Another day, another walk...

Survivor

Most folks in the East Bay remember the earthquake of 1989. What they usually forget is a cold snap we had in early December that year that lasted over a week, with below freezing temperatures each night, and highs during the day in the high 30s and very low 40s. At that time my office was in an old mansion that had been renovated for offices; it was under-insulated and not well heated. I went to work in jeans over long underwear, and two sets of warm-up leggings over that. I used polypro gloves with the fingers cut off that I had for cold weather sailing, and wore two or three sweaters at a time. Each night we would make sure that our outside faucets were dripping slowly so the pipes would not freeze, and that all of our plants and tender trees had been sprayed with water to protect them from freezing. We moved as many outdoor potted plants indoors as we could. Despite all of that, we lost three mature Meyer lemon trees and a huge number of plants.

Among the plants we lost were almost a hundred succulents and cactus that I had collected. Most were from nurseries, but many were from cuttings or buds from plants I had seen here or there, even brought back from Hawaii. After throwing away the mushy dead plants I lost my enthusiasm for collecting and growing them, and only three remain.

This is one of them. It has not bloomed for a few years, but this year.... The bloom lasted about three days then wilted. But it was nice while it lasted.

So what did you do on Sunday?

We chased deer around the backyard. Doesn't everyone?

Mid-afternoon Tom noticed from his upstairs office window that there was a fawn in the backyard. Which would not be a problem except the yard is fenced. So how did he get in? So Tom went out to investigate, and was back almost to the house when he saw another fawn. Twins. Trapped in the yard. And Mom was outside. So -- what to do?

At first, no big deal. The fawns were calm and munching this and that, and Mom was nearby. But then one of the fawns wanted to join her, and could not remember how he had gotten in. We couldn't see any likely route of entry. Or exit. Sigh.

So I went outside and up the path next to our yard, and propped open a gate. By the time I got to the gate, Mom was cautiously waiting, eying me suspiciously, so we hoped the little ones would go towards her. No such luck. In fact, the fawns tried to get out through the gate, but walked behind the gate door instead of in front of it, trapping themselves between the fence and the back of the gate. Fawns are not smart.

Then Tom opened the two gates to the yard at either side of the house. They couldn't find them. So he tried walking slowly up into the yard to herd them gently toward the open gates, which simply caused them to panic and leap at the wire mesh of the fence, bashing their little heads on the fence. Then they tried sproinging all over the yard in general panic. Not helpful. So since we were out of bright ideas, we decided to leave them alone. A while later one found his way out the upper gate, probably by accident, and joined Mom. Then about 20 minutes after that Tom saw something brownish streak across the lot above ours toward Mom, and surmised that it was Twin #2. A tour of the yard a while later showed no deer.


Crisis averted. Although it leaves us with the feeling that this happens all the time and everyone survives quite nicely without our interference. Before the yard was fenced does would leave their fawns in it like a daycare center, and trot off to greener pastures for the day. Sometimes we would have four or five fawns nestled in the weeds (or, as we refer to them, native grasses). Maybe they are still doing it, and we smart humans have just not figure out how.

A different sort of flora

St. John's Wort from the front yard;
California poppies;

a baby pear;

tiny apples;

an almost-blackberry.

Current reads....

White Tiger, Adiga

The Great Man, Christensen

Jericho Point, Gardiner