Because my human family understands the special love I feel for my crow family (I refer to them as my cousins), I was gifted Crow Planet: Essential Wisdom from the Urban Wilderness by Lyanda Lynn Haupt.
These are some of my garden “cousins” who greet me in the morning.
“Grandma, I know you love crows so much, but do you think they’re a little scary?”
Angel Boy asked that question because the crows in their neighborhood seem to know when they’re eating outside in the garden, and perch in the trees and on the garage to patiently wait for fallen morsels.
“I’m not afraid of them because I don’t believe they would ever cause me harm. The crows who visit me at home leave shiny little gifts. These guys simply want to share your dinner.”
I didn’t think it was the right time to tell him that if he tried – he could get them to eat out of his hand — but one day I might.
Crows are considered to be among the most intelligent animals in the world with brains that are similar in size to humans and make up almost two percent of their body mass. They’re known for their ability to solve complex problems, and some say they have the intelligence of a two to seven-year-old child.
Haupt is a Seattle-based author, naturalist, and speaker. “My work explores the beautiful, complicated connections between humans and the wild, natural world.” She has created and directed educational programs for Seattle Audubon, worked in raptor rehabilitation in Vermont, and as a seabird researcher for the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service in the remote tropical Pacific. (Curated from https://www.lyandalynnhaupt.com/)
If you love crows like I do, you will LOVE Crow Planet.
The Flower Moon reminds us that the most beautiful blossoms have deep roots — as this lunation is receiving a motivating push from subterranean planet Pluto, which could catalyze some deep emotional excavation.
To honor this beautiful full moon, which the Lakota call “Moon Of The Green Leaves”, here are some of my favorite flower photos…
“Come spring, in the shaded forests near my home Blooms the elegant and lovely dogwood tree…” — Shakespeare
“In another world and another day. Moonlight turns the purple lilacs blue...” — Conrad Aiken
These are two of my favorite flowers. I really wish they thrived in Southern California, but sadly, they don’t. I have to see them in photos from the Pacific Northwest and try to recollect the alluring fragrance.
“If everything around seems dark, look again, you may be the light.” Rumi
Credit Enchanted Seashells
Sometimes all we need is the perfectly petite flower of a fragrant geranium to change darkness to light; sadness to joy — and sometimes WE are the light.
Let’s go To where the magic waits for us Where our hopes, our dreams Our wishes. Come true. Athey Thompson
Yesterday was a magical day full of miracles.
In the garden, I looked up in a tree and saw two hawks mating! (I didn’t take any photos to protect their privacy.) Last night one of the wild baby bunnies was on the deck and scratched at the screen door like it wanted to come in the house (I didn’t open the door, but I was tempted), and the third miracle is that my adorable little vireos are once again nesting in a brand new bird house!
Vireo
“And as to me, I know nothing else but miracles” — Walt Whitman
A new walking trail opened up in the city of San Marcos.
It’s inland and a bit of a drive, so it’s best to get there in the early morning or late afternoon because the temps are going up.
The trail is only a mile or so, not at all strenuous, but the views are magnificent with California lilacs and mature ceanothus surrounding the South Lake Reservoir — built in 1959, although it hasn’t been used as a source of drinking water since 1984.
I doubled back instead of completing the easier loop and that added an extra mile to the hike.
There’s a lot of coastal scrub, coots, ducks, redwing blackbirds, deer, bobcats, and coyotes. I wish I had seen deer; maybe next time! South Lake is also home to a rare native turtle; the Western Pond Turtle, and I’m sorry to say that I didn’t see them, either.
Definitely remember to bring water and a wide-brimmed hat as it gets super toasty in the sun!
This isn’t the greatest photo; the sun kind of distorted the sharp lines and colors, but I was lucky enough to capture my lizard friend sunning himself on an orange tennis ball
This other guy visits every day; I can always tell who it is by his sort of mutilated tail. He seems to know when I’m in the garden and runs over to greet me.
Hello, handsome! They might be referred to as cold-blooded, but still have their own distinctive personalities.
Lizards like to snack on mealworms, but I never seem to remember to buy them at the pet store. I know they have enough to eat because they’re doing a great job cleaning the garden of unwanted grasshoppers, crickets, and beetles.
Up at dawn, the dewy freshness of the hour, the morning rapture of the birds, the daily miracle of sunrise, set her heart in tune, and gave her Nature’s most healing balm. ~ Louisa May Alcott
Because of all the rain we’ve had, spring blossoms in the garden are exceptionally lush. My Cup of Gold vine (Solandra guttata/Solandra maxima) is bursting with flowers and this gigantic dinner-plate sized golden chalice looked right at me as if to say “good morning.”
This is NOT about that giving tree, Shel Silverstein’s sad apple tree who was abused and abandoned after she gave all that she had for years in her attempts to please a narcissistic little boy.
Taking a bit of a detour and as an aside to that, Angel Girl read The Giving Tree to me — well, not really READ it, but she had memorized every single word and wanted to “read” to me, just like her big brother reads to me. Too adorable, right?
Angel Boy, sitting on my other side, was quick to report in a loud whisper, “She’s not really reading like ME, Grandma, you know that, don’t you?”
I replied, “I know, T, but she wants you and I to be proud of her, so we’re just going to go along with it and praise her efforts, aren’t we?”
After she finished “reading”, we chatted a bit about what the story was all about and Angel Boy said how much he didn’t like it because it was too sad for him to think about the poor tree and Angel Girl chimed in with the same sort of commentary, “He took it all, Grandma, and all she had left was a trunk for him to sleep on when he was old. That wasn’t very nice.”
I was impressed by their empathy and compassion.
And then, because these children NEVER miss an opportunity to point things out to me, she said, “And the man in the book is WAY OLDER than you are, Grandma.”
Ha Ha Ha. Thanks for that, my angel.
Back to my rant, but before I begin, I need to make sure everyone is completely aware about how much I love trees. I don’t even hate eucalyptus trees, but they’re a menace and never should have been planted as a residential street tree, especially so close to houses. I mean, it’s not like I have a colony of koalas in my backyard that need a regular source of food, don’t you agree?
What I’m going on a tirade about is a gigantic eucalyptus tree lives in the space between my house and my next door neighbor’s driveway. It’s a city-owned tree so we can’t do anything about it. No birds nest here; even THEY don’t like it.
The California Invasive Plant Council (CAL-IPC) classifies certain eucalyptus as a “moderate” invasive.
They’re a real fire hazard and can disrupt ecological relationships among species that co-evolved over millennia, which is why many groups work to remove eucalyptus and restore coast live oaks. If that’s not bad enough, limbs fall during storms, and the euc’s shallow root system contributes to the whole tree falling, both of which have killed people.
Volatile oils in eucalyptus trees fuel more intense fires which is enough of a reason to permanently remove this tree.
They are a hazard in every sense of the word. Back in the 1900s, these trees were imported from Australia and planted with the hope that they could be harvested and sold as railroad ties. Unfortunately, eucalyptus is a brittle wood and cracks easily, therefore was unsuitable.
Eucalyptus limbs, branches, and trees regularly fall with potential catastrophic injuries. Recently, one eucalyptus as large as mine fell near our elementary school and was removed.
Last January in San Diego at Balboa Park, a eucalyptus tree was uprooted and fell on top of a woman, obviously causing injuries.
In 2017, A man in his seventies was killed by a branch that fell from a eucalyptus tree at Holiday Park in Carlsbad.
This tree continually drops leaves and other litter on the street, our yards, the sidewalk, and rain gutters. Roots are invasive. The leaves and other tree litter can damage vehicle paint.
I’m really sick and tired of cleaning up this kind of tree debris every week or so.
A few neighbors and I wrote letters to the city expressing all of that and requested the tree be removed. That request was denied. This isn’t the first time we’ve made an effort to get the city to do something about it, and you would think they would be intelligent enough to remove a potentially dangerous hazard, but all they suggested was that If we wanted to spend more than one hundred dollars, we could appeal the decision, but so far, we have not done that.
I met with our councilmember and to no one’s surprise, received no help at all. I’m working on a little show-and-tell with exhibits for a future city council meeting to prove my point and will update you to share all the details about well my plan was or was NOT received. Heehee.
This tree doesn’t give apples; it gives me angst and frustration.
Enchanted Seashells | Princess Rosebud 