Things I overhead

Photo taken by Casi with her cell phone. 

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Tanner: "Mom do you know where the computer charger is? The computer just downloaded on me."

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Tanner: "Mom do you know what the fastest Dinosaur is?"

Mom: "What?"

Tanner: "A Cheetahitchisaur."

Mom: "Did you just make that up?"

Tanner: "No!"

Mom: "Thats too bad its pretty funny."

Tanner: "Oh yeah, I did."

A day in the life-Casi

Photo taken with by Casi with her cell phone. She commented on the lighting... but I don't remember exactly what she said. 

Please pass the Karma

I was on my way to Grandma Angie's home for a day of shopping and grandmother hugs; Italian style. She needed a new rug and wanted a second opinion. On my way to pick her up, I stopped to get a cup of coffee. There were three cars in line at the drive up window. I joined them and waited. 

When it was finally my turn. The girl in the window handed me my order. Then with a smile on her face informed me that the cup of coffee was free. "The Lady already paid for it".

 I accepted the coffee in confusion. "Really? Thank you! What lady?

The girl pointed to the blue F150 pulling away from the coffee shop.  "Oh!? Wow! Ahh, thank you!"

I was elated and left the coffee shop on a high that lasted all day.

It cracks me up that something as small as a $3 cup of coffee had such an effect, but it did. I plan to pass it on to someone else. 

Fourty-4

Have you ever thought that all the great moments in history have already happened?

I did an interview, of my Grandma Verdie in elementary school. Learning about her life gave a presence to her time and opened the doors to the possibilities of my own. After writing my report I sat and wondered about how things will change over my life. Perhaps, due to a lack of imagination, I could not think of anything. Everything seemed as it would always be.

Time went on. I am 20. My Grandpa Dan is sick; living the last few years of his life. Nate and I would spent a few hours visiting with him one Sunday a month. I loved these visits. With only Nate and I there he would get chatty and tell us his life stories. The stories that made him into who he was. Stories about what he loved and what made him laugh. Stories about times almost forgotten. During one of these visits I wondered what I would remember; what I would want to tell my grand kids when the time came to tell my stories. Before we left Grandpa, sitting in his recliner would reach up and give me a hug. I always smelled foldgers in his hugs. I smell it right now while I write this.

Today, an African-American was inaugurated as the 44th President of the United States. I have heard the statement "we are witnesses to history". Its true! We are witness to this historical moment but I can not help but feel that this moment is greater than the color of this mans skin. Based on today's experience, if I was speaking to my Grand kids, I would tell them about the man who aspires to be a president of the people and how this was reflected by the hundreds of thousands of people standing in freezing temperatures to see his inauguration; clothed in cotton hats and gloves, coats and scarfs instead of furs and fancy shoes. I would tell them of how he spoke of diplomacy and respect of other nations and how he plans to bring peace. And I would tell them how he gave hope to the people of America "amidst gathering clouds and raging storms".
For we are in a difficult times. "we are in the midst of crisis is now well understood. Our nation is at war, ... Our economy is badly weakened,...Homes have been lost; jobs shed; businesses shuttered. Our health care is too costly; our schools fail too many; and each day brings further evidence that the ways we use energy strengthen our adversaries and threaten our planet." He warned us during his inauguration speech of these issues. There is still more to be done.

Yes, he made history by becoming the first black US president and we were all witness to that but there is further history to be made. I heard someone say the worst times in American History brings out the greatest presidents. I believe, we are having one of those times and that he has the potential to be one of those presidents. It is my hope that we will be witness to that as well.

Me and my sis

Sometimes you do something for someone else and it turns out you need it too.

Different sections of three pictures taken with my cell phone (a Nokia Crazer) during a girls night out.  

(We were trying on "ugly clothes"- we did not wear the same outfit)

Rusty Blackbird!

After working Sunday, so I could take Monday off, driving  3 hours to Fish Springs NWR and back, and weathering a blistering 40F, sunny and cloudless day (OK this part was good) I saw the Rusty Black bird. The above picture was taken by Pat. 

As expected, I received quite a few comments for going to see this bird. "Mom you go to strange places with strange people" from Cassidy to a co-worker sending me an email with only the word "freak" in it (his preferred nick name for me). My favorite comment though, was a question. “What kind of bird and why is it special?” I thought I would answer it here... 

The Rusty Blackbird (Euphagus Carolinus) is a widespread North American species that breeds in the boreal wetlands. Dring the winter months, however, it migrates to the wooded wetlands of the southeast United States. Occasionally during theses migrations a bird will get lost and appear outside of its normal range. Making it special, in that it shows up where it is not expected and allowing myself and others to see the bird without flying to Mississippi.

Currely, this birds population is in decline. "An analysis of the literature on the distribution of North America birds from the late-18th to the late-19th century shows a consistent long-term decline in the qualitative assessment of this species' abundance. More alarmingly is that both national indicators of songbird abundance, the Breeding Bird Survey (BBS) and the CBC, show sharp declines over the past three decades (see graph).BBS data indicate a population trend that averages a decline of more than ten percent per year for the last 30 years." This decline accounts for more than 95 percent of the population that existed when the Breeding Bird Survey was initiated. Since the Rusty Blackbird is dependant on wood wetlands to survive, both in summer and wintering habitats, its decline could be an indicator of the general health of the wooded wetlands of North America and perhaps give incite to why other species, of that same habitat, are also in decline.

You can join the search for Rusty Blackbirds and learn more about it and it's decline here.

Pat and Painted Buntings

A Rusty Blackbird has been seen at Fish Springs NWR. It was first observed during Fish Springs CBC last weekend. It was seen again and photographed today. I saw a post on the Utah birds website and was immediately excited to see it was from my buddy Pat.  Pat wanted to get a group together to see the Rusty Blackbird. The idea of birding again with Pat made me think of the first time, and only time, I have birded with him...

Written 8/14/2007 in a letter to two of my best friends.

I wanted to see a Painted Bunting being seen at Fish Springs,Utah! If approved, it will be the first documented sighting of the Painted Bunting in Utah! A very exciting species but Fish Springs is a bit off the "main road". You guys know the place. Two and a half hours of driving on poorly maintained  desert dirt roads. Out in the middle of nowhere. Remember to bring extra gas and water. OK, you get the idea. But,  I have no more birding friends  in Utah (Miss you guys!). So I did what any birder would do. I planned to go alone. In my car. Without  4 wheel drive. Seems rational.  Doesn't it? 

I didn't end up going alone. I went with Pat and some  guy with a Utah name I cant remember. I met Pat on the Internet (probably the only time I will get to say I meet a guy on the Internet). Nate insisted that going alone with a man I didn't know was NOT a good idea. I said, " Hes a birder"and left it at that.  When I finally met pat and his friend I laughed. They were wonderful! Birders are a great group of people.

Pat, a talker,  spent the trip to Fish Springs telling stories.  He reminded me of my Grandpa Dan;  barrel chested, with laughing eyes, and an appreciation for a good story.  Of course, Pats stories were all clean;  my grandfather had an appreciation for the other. Pat spoke of listening to Louise L'Amour speak, caves and rock collecting, and going to Indian ruins before they were protected as National Parks, and like my Grandfather all of Pats stories were centered around Utah.  I loved hearing the history he was witness to. 

Pat drove the dirt road, to Fish Springs, like a bat would fly out of hell (I only peed my pants a little bit!). It was predawn; dark and poring raining. I was concerned that the rain would make the fine dirt of Utah's west desert into slippery goo. I wasn't wrong to be concerned. I sat next to him in the passengers seat of his white and slightly rusty Jeep Cherokee. A calm expression on my face. Absently  commenting here and there regarding his story. The whole time secretly wondering about Pats mental capacity. How coherent was he?  How were his reflexes? Did he take any major prescriptions? Did he take them this morning?  The sound of pounding rain, the water splashing against the sides of the car, mud flinging from the tires,  his cheerful chatter and my occasional response pounding in my head.  I somehow kept my composure as we flew down the dirt road. I only  squeaked a little bit when we slipped off the road into a small ditch going 70 miles an hour; somehow getting back on the road before hitting a dirt berm. 

Once at fish springs the rain stopped. We drove the where the Painted Bunting was last seen; one of the only tree'd areas in the region; the landscape mostly composed of sage brush. This area, loosely known as the picnic area, contained four cottonwood trees.

We were in the middle of a pressure change and were concerned that the Bunting had left. We desperately  searched the four trees but nothing was active. No little warblers. No finches. Nothing! Pat saw a pair of Great Horned Owls roosting in two of the four trees and I felt certain that the Bunting was now the main product in a great horned owl pellet.

We sat for hours. Observing any activity we imagined.  Looking at one tree and then the next. Until we looped back and did it again. Finally one of us suggested leaving to another area of the reserve to look for a Cackling Goose. No one had a spotting scope.  It felt hopeless. It was. 

We  continued around the reserve observing any species identifiable without a spotting scope. Snowy Egrets, Mallards, unidentifiable gull species, and White Faced Ibis. It was pretty dead and we were fairly sedated due to the lack of sleep and excitement. We came around a corner of a large pond. In the pool of water by the side of the road was a Reddish Egret! The second sighting ever  seen at Fish springs. We did an emotional flip and were ecstatic! 

We still had not seen our target bird and went back to the picnic area to look again. It was noon and hot but we were still determined and made plans to stay till it cooled off. I sprawled on a picnic table underneath one of the owls and watched it watch me while I ate a cliff bar that expired a year ago. A  peanut butter cliff bar that old does NOT taste like peanut butter. It tastes like dirt. To make matters worse the texture of the cliff bar supported my taste buds.  I was hungry and ate the whole thing. 

It was past noon. We had watched every movement the four trees had to offer for two hours. The weather began to cool. A soft wind blew high  in the trees canopy. The bird activity began to pickup; Yellow Warblers, House Finches, Great tailed Grackles, a Grey Flycatcher, and the Painted Bunting returned. 

On a side note: Pat drives slower in dirt roads, during dry weather, in the light. I made it home safely. 

Things I overhead

On the way home from grocery shopping today; after I bought an embarrassingly huge box of Eggo waffles and 1/2 dozen box of donuts. I saw the black truck in front of me had purposely hung an item from its underparts to identify the sex of the truck and the low neuron count of the driver.

Me: " I don't get why people have to hang things like that on their vehicles."

Casi: "Yuck! I don't get it either.... What is it?"

Me: *silence*

Say what Mr (not so green) president?

"President Bush will create three new marine national monuments in the Pacific Ocean today, according to his top aides, a move that will help preserve sprawling sea and island ecosystems and cement the one aspect of his legacy that has won praise...from environmentalist."

 see article here.

Shifting Whispering Sands

Yes, it always whispers to me of the days of long ago. When the settlers and the miners fought the crafty Navaho. How the cattle roamed the valley. Happy people worked the land. And now everything is covered by the shifting whispering sands.    Shifting Whispering Sands, as sung by Jim Reeves

I went to Mona, Utah to visit my Grandma Verdie and Grandpa Jim today (The last Christmas visit/party this year). My Grandpa was sitting in his chair by the fire. Spending the visit drifting in and out of sleep.  A coiled rope draped his left knee and a cowboy hat sat, to the right, on the chair post besides him. 

Nate asked him about the rope draped on his knee. 

Nate: "Hey what is that rope for?"

Grandpa J: "I've been out branding cattle."

Nate: "How did it go?"

Grandpa J: "Well!"

My Grandfather has altimers and now lives in the past. At times I miss the man who sang to me in greeting; as if  in conversation.  The man who played harmonica before bed. The man who could work leather into reins and bridle; a work of art. And the man who spoke of horses as friends and remembers what it meant to be a cowboy. 

All that is left is the shell of the man I know and love but while he sleeps in his chair he remembers and relives. Adrift in time. Like a microscope, he is focused on one point. One plane. While everything else stays out of focus. Drifting from present to past to present like the Shifting Whispering Sands.  If I listen, I can hear him and his stories.

Sledding in Suburbia

I wanted to clean my house today. Nate wanted to celebrate the new year with the kids. Nate won. We decided to go sledding. Grandma A cleaned out her garage and gave us a sled. A sled she loved from her childhood; the flexible flyer III.  It was time we gave it a run.

"Ok. I guess I will go." I said. 

The picture is a bit blurry but it shows the famous sledding hill  of Taylorsville; a water containment area/park. 

I helped Tanner down the first ride. Our camera was not doing well with the low light conditions combined with the super fast sledding we were doing. 

Casi and Tanner testing out the flexible flyer III. We decided this sled rocked. Definitely the fastest sled on the icy slops.

Cassidy and Meggie (our cute neighbor) resting after making it to the bottom of the hill.