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Finally, a Snowy Owl

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The problem with taking so much time off from writing is that I now have way too many stories to tell. I can talk about my new interest in birding. I can talk about my trip to visit friends in South Africa. I can talk about the stroke I had way too young. I can talk about the beautiful sunrise this morning, or the recent snowstorm that left us with a deep cover of white. So how to start back up again? 

One thing I find irritating is blogging about blogging so I won’t do that. Why have I not entered anything here in such a long time? Do you really care? If a story has power it is in the telling of the story. We get little from learning why the telling was delayed. So let’s just lay that to rest right now, shall we?

How about I start with the snowy owl? There has been an irruption of snowy owls this year. You may have heard of this, of course. Snowy owls have made the news all over the United States. They are white and showy and downright beautiful. Heck, if snowy owls can hang with Harry Potter they must be magical, right? I think they are.

I have been hearing about them for months now. We live next to a set of open fields which, I would imagine, would be just what a traveling snowy owl would look for. There are trees and barns to perch on, fields full of mice and voles, and open space to fly. Why wouldn’t they come here? I have been fooled more than once by the white of a pale red-tailed hawk but so far there have been no snowy owls around here. So this morning I decided to go find one.

These birds have been reported in Addison County multiple times and, since that is only one county over, I figured it was worth a drive. I listened to a great episode of Snap Judgment on the way down but still, it seemed like it took forever to get there. “There” was the viewing spot on Route 17 at Dead Creek Wildlife Management Area. I had heard that just yesterday snowy owls had been spotted from right there. Awesome, I thought. That spot is easy to find, a quick pull-in and if the birds are there, it is a good spot to park while I watch. But the birds were not there.

Birders were there. A handful of cars were parked with a few binocular-toting bundled-up folks looking around. The sign of a great bird nearby, if there is a group of birders on hand, is a cluster of arms and a passel of optical devices pointed in one direction. That I did not see. I did see a couple people next to their Subaru with a spotting scope so I thought maybe they had something. Turns out it was a red-tailed hawk, out to fool me again. They said they might have seen a snowy owl down the road, but they were not sure. Another couple stopped and said they saw one for sure, farther south, this morning. I looked around for a few more minutes and headed south. 

The problem with looking for owls while driving is that it is less safe than it might be. It is hard to try to focus on finding something white in fields of snow while looking at a road covered in patches of drifting snow at fifty miles per hour. When no one was behind me I slowed down, but still, I needed to stop. After several miles I did stop. I saw another red-tailed hawk but also a rough-legged hawk–a visitor for the winter from farther north. That was a score. Unfortunately, I was pretty distracted by this point. After a couple cups of coffee and a bottle of water I was feeling ready to bust.

Now this is a rural area, so a rest room was not going to be found close by. I knew I could drive a while to get back to one, but I still had an owl to find. There are not many houses around, but the sight lines are far. I didn’t want anyone seeing some creep stopping on the side of the road to take a leak. So I turned around, my goal now to find an isolated and hidden spot to take care of things. I saw a side road with a clump of trees far down it. I was desperate at this point so took a right. Not far down the road I saw a white lump on a fence post. I got closer and could hardly believe it. Here was my owl. 

There was a car pulled over and I stopped well before I got to it. I looked through my binoculars. I looked through my scope. I didn’t leave the car. I was in too much pain by now. The owl was very cool. The other car left. I took my chances and got out of the car, relieving my pain with a clear view down the road. 

Now I was ready to look at my owl. It was regal and bright and just what I was hoping for. It was close to the road enough to see it clearly. After a while it flew off, tired perhaps of being watched. Wow, I thought, that was a snowy owl. Awesome. But I wasn’t done yet. There were other birds nearby, including a bald eagle soaring overhead. And there was a flock of snow buntings–more winter visitors. There were so many it was hard to count, but there were at least fifty, flying together over the fields and landing as a group on a semi-clear patch. These little guys are white and brown, like little cousins of the snowy owl. They were quite a sight. I stopped and looked at them for a while and I noticed some were not snow buntings after all. They were horned larks.

Since I had never seen these birds before I watched them for a while. Two new life birds for me in one Vermont winter day. Plus a couple birds that won’t be around when spring arrives. Not bad. I headed back satisfied and happy, and got home in time for lunch. Lesson for the day? Too much coffee means finding an awesome bird. I’ll have to see if that lesson proves true again another day.

Bus in the Rain

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Soggy Walk

Soggy Walk

It was wet this morning when it was time to meet the school bus.  We went anyway.  That’s the rule apparently.

How about we just not walk down to meet the bus this morning?  Stay at home where it is cozy and dry?

Can’t.  Gotta go to school.  That’s the rule.

Umbrellas helped.  The big fat black one and the little green frog one. The wind blew. Pants were moistened. My daughter got on the bus with her arms wrapped about her.  Smart kid.

Walking back to the house with her brother was wetter.  We walked into the wind.  He hardly noticed.  He wanted to stay out, in fact.  At another time I would have encouraged it. Get wet!  Romp in the rain!  Play in the puddles! But we had to go.  The clock is a cruel master.

The rain had stopped by the end of the school day.  The sun brightened the tops of the clouds.  My daughter and I walked back, dry. We laughed at her water bottle; it seems the bottom came unglued.  “We’ll have to glue gun it,” she tells me. Indeed. We also laughed at her description of playing Twister with her classmates.  She was the first one out.  She didn’t mind.

It rains and your pants get wet.  You fall down first in the game.  Don’t mind that.  There is laughing and playing to be done.

New Color

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I have used green as a background color on this blog for almost a year.  It’s time for a change, hence the blue you now see.  Small change–I may look to make bigger changes at some point.  For now, however, a little switch up is good for me.

Flags Along the Way

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As I was driving through Milton this morning I noticed a United States flag.   It stood out because it was faded and tangled in the cross post on the pole.  It looked like it had been there a long time.  Someone had cared to put it up but then what happened?  Had it been forgotten?  Did they just leave it up all the time?  How long had it been tangled there?

Then I noticed other U.S. flags.  There was a flag on a pole part way up a utility pole, and another on the next pole.  I wondered if there would be many on many poles, but the next few utility poles were bare of flags.  Then, around the bend, there was flag after flag, all of them hanging toward the road, red, white and blue stretching down Route 7.  It was a lot of flagness there in Milton.

I realized that I just don’t notice U.S. flags anymore.  They are everywhere.  Had these flags been there a long time?  Or had they been hung recently, for Memorial Day?  They might have been there for months and I hadn’t noticed them on my many travels through town.  Or maybe they had only been there a few days.  I certainly hadn’t noticed them yesterday, or last week.

I then noticed the flag at the post office.  You can count on that one.  And there was a flag at the bank.  And others scattered about.  I thought that maybe I would count them on the way home, but I forgot.

I remember as a kid hanging a flag.  I don’t know how long we did that but I do remember raising it the morning and lowering it at night.  We weren’t always good about it.  Sometimes we left it up all night, or for several days straight.  According to the U.S. Code on such matters, one should not fly the flag at night unless it is fully lit.  We blew it on that one.  We always folded it properly and stored it well but the lighting thing didn’t happen.  Moreover, one shouldn’t fly the flag in inclement weather.  Oops.

I recently read an article in Grist about whether one can ignore the flag codes and fly the flag at night without lighting it, to save energy.  Wouldn’t that be patriotic?  Use less energy but still fly the flag?  The article suggested simply not flying the flag at night, or using a motion sensor light so if someone passes by they flag would be lit and thus be visible.  Sounded good to me.

I heard a story on NPR recently about a pastor who is flying his flag upside down in Chicago.  That usually, according to flag codes, should be reserved strictly as a signal of distress.  His point is that so many youth are being killed by firearms every year that his city faces an crisis.  He noted that within 48 hours we mobilized to inform and protect people from swine flu, a threat that was unclear at best, yet we can’t stop youth gun violence that has been happening for years?  I have no quibble with his approach, despite local veterans who might find it unpatriotic.  One does what one must.

I imagine I will be noticing flags a lot now.  Richmond used to post them on utility poles for July 4th.  I sometimes didn’t notice them at first but then saw them everywhere.  I imagine that will happen again.  I can’t imagine flying one myself any time soon, but I know that I will manage to see them, even when I am not looking.

Waiting for Speed

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I am in the office of Waitsfield and Champlain Valley Telecom, the folks who provide my internet service.  I was passing by and figured I would stop in and ask a question.  Our internet service is slow or intermittent.  Why not just ask?  They are busy so I thought I might squeak this in while I wait.  If they don’t get to me in a minute I am, as my brother used to say, outee.

I spent most of the day at Champlain Valley Union High School.  I was a community panelist for Grad Challenge.  All seniors have to do a Grad Challenge project and this is the day when they all present to faculty, students, family, friends and a community panel.  It give me a chance to learn about some new things.  Today I learned about the following:

  • Cosmetology, including the dangers of dying one’s own hair from a box kit
  • Child care at a home day care
  • Building a coffee table
  • Yoga positions and why one might practice
  • Green Mountain Habitat for Humanity
  • Working with kids at the King Street Youth Center
  • Making a film about Civil War reenactments

The idea is that seniors get to choose what to study and get a chance to speak publicly about it.  I think it is great preparation for what they may need to do after high school.  I saw a few people I know and got to contribute a little to my community.  Everyone passed just fine, even the students who were really nervous.  The presenters have the tough job.  For me it was easy.  Sit and listen, learn some new stuff, give some feedback.  Not a bad day’s work if you ask me.

And so I wait to get some more speed when I get home.  I’m not sure how long that will take.  I still have to pop into the hardware store to buy a new rake.  Ours fell apart, broke, sits in pieces with no hope of repair.  I’ll need it to do some planting tomorrow.  I won’t need much speed for that task.  In fact, I hope it takes some time.  I could use a little reflection on the week, and I haven’t taken up yoga yet.  Maybe this summer…

Flowers for May Day

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Last Friday was May 1st.  For 15 years, with two minor exceptions, I have given my spouse flowers on that day.  One exception was last year.  I am not sure what happened but I forgot, so I pushed it out one month.  June 1st is as random a day as May 1st.  The other exception was when I waited until the last minute and it was Sunday.  I had to wait a day that year.

We met at the end of April, 15 years ago.  That is a fair chunk of time.  I get her flowers both to suggest that I have been thinking of her and that I love her, as well as to, at least for me, commemorate when we met.  We did not meet on May 1st.  That was just the day I picked that was close enough.  Plus, if I don’t remember, no big deal.  It isn’t a specific day, just a time to remember and celebrate.

The thing is this:  I think my wife is amazing.  I love her like crazy.  I think she is one of the most beautiful women I have ever met.  If it didn’t sound like I was exaggerating, I would say that she is the most beautiful woman I have ever met.  She is a terrific mom and a great friend.  I am truly lucky to have met her, and I am fortunate that she is willing to keep things going.

I used to get her one red rose.  That felt pretty romantic to me.  I have expanded since then.  I got her a whole passel of roses after ten years.  Now I get a mix.  This year it was pink roses and gerber daisies.  They brighten the place up.  A couple of years ago I decided to make flowers a part of life.  So one rose seemed too insignificant.  A bouquet had more punch.

And so we stay at it.  My parents have been married for over 40 years.  My wife’s grandparents have passed 60 years.  I am hoping, if the cheesecake doesn’t do me in too soon, that she can bear me for that long.  I am hoping that flowers (at least) once every year makes a difference.

Packaging

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I recently ordered some syrup. I’m talking flavored syrups to jazz up my espresso drinks. I like to add some flavors here and there, mix it up a little, go for something different. I know some folks are purists and just don’t like to add flavors. I can go with straight up but I also like to add some zing. I was out–I had been for a while–so I ordered some more from Amazon.

When you order from Amazon, as you may know if you have ordered from Amazon, you often have the choice of getting things from outside vendors. I had lots of options, and I went with the two syrups I wanted from two different sellers. I received them on the same day.

I received a bottle of Monin hazelnut syrup from CoffeeAM. It was just what I ordered and was shipped intact. It was packaged well, in fact. I can’t imagine it would have broken. The packaging was pretty cool, actually. It was a self-inflating tube of plastic. The problem is that it was all plastic. Plus it was packed in polystyrene peanuts–more plastic.  Here is what it looked like:

Glass in Plastic in Cardboard

Glass in Plastic in Cardboard

I received a bottle of Monin coconut syrup from Boba Tea Direct. It also was packed well enough that it would have taken a lot to have broken. Again, I was impressed by the packaging–even more so than the other shipment. This was all paper packaging. There was no plastic except the tape on the box. It looked like this:

Glass in Paper

Glass in Paper

The prices on the two bottles were about the same. I only ordered from two sellers because they were not both available from CoffeeAM and the hazelnut syrup at Boba Tea Direct was a lot more pricey (not sure what that was about). But because of the paper packaging, rather than plastic, I will order from Boba Tea Direct in the future. The bubble tube was cool, but I can’t toss that in the compost bin, or even recycle it. The world could use a little less plastic. It isn’t huge, but at least I can take one small action.  You?

Clap Clap Clap

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I am still thinking about this conference I attended earlier in the week.  As I often do when I attend a conference, I come home with some new knowledge and some inspiration.  I also, however, typically come home with lots of other thoughts and ideas.  This time one of the things I have been pondering is applause.  There were many speakers and many awards.  I did hear some inspiring stories.  But it seemed to me there was too much clapping.

I have, for a while now, felt a little odd about applauding every little thing where a crowd happens to gather.  Someone is introduced who will in turn introduce a speaker–that person gets applause.  They are not the speaker, so why should they get applause, especially before they even speak?  I guess I an appreciate that applause may be just a way to say thank you, but it seems we offer it too readily.  Applause to me means thank you for doing a good job at entertaining or informing or inspiring.  Otherwise, why clap?

This crowd not only liked to applaud every person who had any kind of public role, but it was standing ovation dizzy.  There were more standing ovations at that conference than I have seen anywhere else.  Maybe they are just sensitive enough to truly be moved that often.  I guess I couldn’t speak to that, but I think a standing ovation should be reserved for a speech or a performance that one will remember for a long time.  If someone has a moving story but they do a poor job telling it, they shouldn’t get a standing ovation.  If someone has a story of personal tragedy, they shouldn’t get a standing ovation just because of their circumstances.  I want to recognize those who offer something to me, but I only want to stand up and clap when the experience is to powerful to keep me in my seat.

Am I cynical?  Or emotionally numb?  I don’t think so.  I just feel that we offer out praise too readily.  It is not easy to be the one to stay seated when everyone else stands and applauds, but there were simply not that many speakers who moved me to stand.  At one point a colleague even said to me, “This is where we get our exercise, all this standing and sitting.”  That told me that she was in the game, like many others I am sure, because it was the thing everyone else was doing.  I stayed put.

I don’t mean to be a spoiler but what if every play got a standing ovation?  It would not take long before it meant nothing and only the really really bad plays did not get a standing ovation.  A standing ovation should be for something is special, not just for any old perfomance, but that is what I saw–too much standing and clapping.  I have felt happy to be one to stand and clap, but if a speaker doesn’t merit it, I will stay seated.  It is easy to follow the crowd.  It is difficult to be the one who disagrees.  Sorry, speakers, but you need to give me something good to get me on my feet.

GPS in the Dark

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For Christmas my parents gave me a GPS unit. It is almost the same one that they have, maybe one version newer. My dad has been pretty into it since he got it and I guess he thought it might come in handy for me as well. I used it this afternoon and evening to drive down to the New Hampshire coast. It served me well.

Typically, if I drive somewhere I have never been, I get directions. I like to figure out where I am headed, to the last turn, before I start the car. But this time I did not do that. I had meant to, but just never got around to it. I was planning to rent a car to head down to save some cash for my organization (cheaper to pay the rental company than to reimburse me for mileage on my own car) so I used the new toy to get me there as I wasn’t sure where it was. That worked great.

Once I had the rental car I sat in the parking lot waiting for satellite connection. It took me a bit to find the location I was headed on the little black box, but once I did I was off down the interstate. Then it told me to just go on that road for 144 miles. Not much action there.

The thing has a lovely woman’s voice. She tells me where to turn right when I need to know. She is just so friendly, that GPS lass. Of course, her confidence can be deceptive. Once, when the family was headed out on an adventure together, the unit seemed to think we were a little off from where we actually were. According to that thing we were driving through rivers and buildings, but she just kept telling us to turn left or right.

It got dark as I headed down, on my own except for the lass, and I dutifully followed her directions. I turned where she told me to turn and ended up at a darkened building. It turns out that was the country club, not the hotel, so I rejiggered and turned about and after half a mile found the right spot.

I am not a huge fan of driving in the dark, especially in unknown locales, but I did manage to find my way, even without getting directions first. I was a little hesitant, and I don’t know that I’d go without a backup plan every time, but it worked. As I walked from my car to the main entrance to the hotel, I ran into a friend who is also attending the conference for which I drove all those hours. She said this: “I don’t know how I got here; I just kept on going and managed to find the place.”

Sounds about right to me.