Mt. Madonna

Today I finally visited Mt. Madonna County Park for the first time. I loved it! It has the majesty of Big Basin, but it's not as crowded and is a little closer to home. I will definitely be returning to camp there in the near future!

I found the park with relative ease, though Dino had some trouble climbing up the steep hill once I entered the park. I could practically hear him wheezing as the SUV behind me glided effortlessly up the incline. I'm almost ashamed to ask, but if anyone has a recommendation for an SUV that isn't a huge gas-guzzler, I'd like to hear about it. I feel like I really need a vehicle that I won't have to worry about in remote areas. Are there any "green" SUVs in existence?

I had a lovely hike in the redwoods and did not encounter another human being for over an hour. I got scolded by squirrels and I talked back to crows. (My cawing shut them up right away. I think they didn't know what to make of me.)

And I never get tired of banana slugs! I couldn't resist taking the above photo. They're just so... yellow. And slimy. And BIG. Banana slugs rock!

Here's some fungi for good measure:


I think Mt. Madonna may be the quietest park I've ever hiked in. As I walked, I realized that I was the one making most of the noise with my Gatorade sloshing, my feet crunching on old leaves, and the muted "thud" of my camera bouncing against my hip. When I'd pause for a moment, there was... nothing. But when I stood still for several moments, I started to notice the sounds of branches cracking under the weight of some creature, and the scurrying of tiny feet in the brush. Occasionally a plane would fly overhead. The sound seemed almost out of place there. It seems trite to say this, but in the silence and absence of fellow humans, I did not feel alone. I felt more surrounded by life than ever, knowing that the forest was teeming with all sorts of creatures I couldn't see. Who knows who may have been watching my noisy walk, perched high in a redwood tree?

And there I am, gazing up into the canopy of trees. I liked what the light did in this picture.

I think I haven't enjoyed such a peaceful walk since my days at Bennington, when I used to forego homework in favor of hiking on the Blue Trail. For some reason, today's experience reminded me very much of those magical days at Bennington. I feel that there is some holy presence in those tall old trees.

When I got back to the car, I found a "courtesy reminder" to pay my $6 park entrance fee on the windshield. I had counted out exactly $6 and put it in my pocket before I left home, but when I arrived at the park there was no one at the booth collecting money. Turns out you're supposed to put the money in one of the boxes around the park. That $6 fee is one thing I don't mind paying- to me, it feels like a privilege to use our beautiful parks and I feel good about contributing towards their upkeep (assuming that's where the money goes). And since California parks were threatened with closure a few months ago, I surely don't mind coughing up $6 if it means the parks will be kept open.

The drive back to San Jose at sunset was beautiful. I'm consistently amazed by how much variety in landscape you can find in California (and even in the Bay Area alone). The hills of Gilroy were awash in golden sunlight and looked like something out of a postcard. I saw horses, cows, and sheep grazing. So different from the "silicon valley" where I live, yet so close! I feel lucky to live in such a diverse area.

Dino Rides Again

My car is old. I recently swore that I would not invest a single penny more into fixing it, since I plan to buy a new car before long. However, a car with a dead battery is pretty much useless, and replacing the dead battery is pretty much unavoidable if you ever hope to drive the car again.

And so it happened that around midday on Sunday, I set off for Rancho San Antonio in ye olde Sable, hoping to squeeze in a short hike before going to watch a friend's dance performance. Really, I don't know what I was thinking- you need to arrive at Rancho practically before the crack of dawn to get parking, and I was one of many circling the parking lots waiting for someone to leave. After nearly half an hour of this I finally got fed up and left.

As I was getting onto the freeway, I felt the engine shudder and struggle to get up to 45 MPH. The engine felt "weak," if an engine can be said to feel like anything at all. The battery light was on. Oh, goody.

Luckily I was near the De Anza College exit and I am familiar with the area, so I got off there and dragged my lame butt into the parking garage near the Flint Center. I parked and proceeded to turn the engine off and on several times, hoping it might "clear" the problem (that's worked sometimes before when the "check engine" light came on). It didn't help.

I really didn't want to call roadside assistance because I was afraid they'd send a tow truck and I wasn't sure how much that would cost. But I also didn't want to break down on my way home, so I finally decided to stay put and give them a call. Initially they were going to send a tow truck, but I asked them to send someone to jump me instead. They said it would be about a 45-minute wait.

Being stuck in the De Anza parking garage alone on a Sunday afternoon is really not very interesting. I bided my time watching pigeons and squirrels ambling about. I probably imagined it, but I thought I saw a pigeon walk up to my car, stop, eye my car for a moment and then turn around and walk away with a look of annoyance on its birdy face. Maybe I was in its way.

Finally I got a call from Bay Area Roadrunner, saying they were on the way. To my surprise it was a woman's voice on the phone! When I hung up I thought maybe she was the secretary at their office, but a few minutes later a white car pulled up and two older women got out. How cool is that? I always assume anyone working with cars would be male, but here were two awesome ladies sent to my rescue. The driver of the car, who had beautiful long, grey hair, hooked up a battery to mine and found that my battery would not hold a charge. She said the alternator was not the problem, which apparently was a good thing because they cost more than a new battery. She advised me not to get back on the freeway and to take it to the nearest auto parts store.

So I slowly puttered down Stevens Creek and came upon a Jiffy Lube. I asked if they did batteries, and the guy replied no, but would I like an oil change? I guess oil changes are just about all Jiffy Lube does. They directed me to Pep Boys down the street. The guys in there were super friendly and helpful (cute, too). It was a long wait because there were so many cars being serviced, but finally they did run a test, determined that the battery was no longer capable of holding a charge, and installed a new one. I decided to get my oil changed too while I was at it.

Sitting in the waiting area at Pep Boys is also not very interesting. I read my way through all the "women's" magazines in about fifteen minutes. They were far outnumbered by the number of automotive magazines. Then I wandered around the store and looked at GPS units, floor mats, and iPod chargers. Whee. All in all, I was there at least two hours, way longer than it would have taken if I'd gone to Tom (the mechanic I usually go to who sold me the car). Tom probably would've charged less, too, but he doesn't work on Sundays. I felt slightly guilty about getting an oil change from someone else, but I didn't want to make a separate trip to get that done. All in all, I had a good experience at Pep Boys and I would go back there in a pinch, but only if Tom wasn't available.

The new battery is awesome. I hadn't realized it, but I guess the old one was getting ready to give up the ghost for a while. Dino rides much more smoothly now, without hesitation. I think the heat feels warmer than it used to be, too, although I'm not sure if the battery has anything to do with that. I'm not happy about putting more money into the car, but it kind of had to be done. And I am pleased with the results.

I can't believe how attached to this car I've become. I can't believe I gave him a name. I know I'm going to need a new car before long, but it will be really hard to part with Dino.

Close Encounters with Creatures of Air

A few weeks ago I decided to spruce up my old, dilapidated deck. (I heard a rumor that I'll be getting a new deck soon. It would be awesome to not worry about falling through rotting old wood all the time.) I bought some plants- purple and white petunias, pinkish-purple foxglove, and some kind of "mixed foliage" (Target's garden center didn't seem to have any more info than that). I have a history of bad luck with plants, but so far they are doing quite well and add a lot of color and life to the old deck.

I also hung up a couple of bird feeders- a mesh "sock" full of seeds for finches and nuthatches, and a small 2.5-ounce butterfly-shaped feeder for hummingbirds. It sticks to the window with a suction cup. I thought the feeders might attract more birds to my deck and provide entertainment for me and the cats.

A couple of weeks went by and no birds. Or at least, none that I saw. (If only the cats could talk.) The sock was still full of seed, and I faithfully changed the nectar in the hummingbird feeder every few days although no hummers were in sight. I began to think that maybe hummingbirds wouldn't know how to use a feeder; after all, it doesn't look much like a flower. It was a little disappointing, but I still enjoyed sitting outside on my deck, especially on these long evenings. The trees have grown tall and very leafy, arching up over the deck and almost brushing my door and windows. It's very nice to sit up there under all that green and look for mockingbirds, mourning doves, robins and whoever else might be flitting about in the branches.

Last week I decided to create a small outdoor altar for the deck, something I've always wanted to do. I used a wooden TV tray and covered it with a tie-dyed and beaded cloth. I then went around the apartment looking for various items I could use to represent the elements- rocks for Earth, a mermaid figurine for Water, a battery-powered candle for Fire. I got stuck on trying to find something for Air, and finally grabbed a butterfly-shaped hair clip off my dresser.

I set the items on the altar and stood before it, feeling slightly guilty about my haphazard offering to Air and wishing I could come up with something better. I stood there thinking for a moment, but no other ideas came to me. I sat down on my chair and picked up the book I've had my nose stuck in for the last few weeks, Watchable Birds of California. Several minutes went by and I forgot about Air.

And suddenly there was the sound of a tiny helicopter hovering near my left ear! I looked up, and there was a female Anna's hummingbird eying the feeder on the window! She flew up to the feeder, inserted her long, strawlike beak into the tube, and sipped the red nectar.

I was absolutely enthralled to be so close to a hummingbird, and to see that she really did know how to use the feeder after all (I guess they make them for a reason). I sat transfixed for a few seconds, feeling that perhaps the element of Air had accepted my gift after all, and this beautiful, magical creature of Air was the confirmation. I gazed upon her in wonder, and then--

BANG! and MEOW! Sibyl leaped at the glass on the other side of the window, trying to bat at the hummingbird. The bird hovered backwards for a moment, taking in the sight of the hungry cat, and then buzzed off into the trees and perched on a branch. She sat there looking back at me (okay, she was actually probably looking at her interrupted meal of red nectar, but I like to think it was me) for several minutes, then flew away. Sibyl stayed in the window, meowing longingly. Oh, well. Can't blame a cat for being a cat.

This past weekend I spied three more Anna's hummingbirds darting around together near the feeder, though Sibyl was standing guard in the window so they didn't come close enough to feed. All three birds looked like females (I assume this because I didn't notice red heads on any of them). I plan to get a different hummingbird feeder soon, one that won't attach to the window so the birds can eat in relative peace. It is truly a blessing to be surrounded by these beautiful creatures of Air!

Going from Green to Gas-Guzzling and Trying to Stay Sane...

It's a very strange thing, owning a car. At 29 years old, I have finally conquered my phobia of driving and got my drivers license and my first car. While I certainly feel that I have acquired a newfound sense of freedom, I also feel an unwelcome sense of obligation, a burden of sorts.

I can't deny that it's very nice to have the ease of quick transport, not having to stand at the bus stop or train station stamping my feet impatiently as I wait for my journey to get underway. Now, I can leave whenever I want and go pretty much wherever I want (although I haven't explored all the freeways enough yet to be completely comfortable venturing into unknown territory). At a moment's notice I can hop in the car and be on my way in my own space, not having to share a seat and conversation with other passengers or put up with their body odor. In some ways, it's a great relief.

And in some ways, owning a car makes my heart ache. I have this terrible feeling that I've "sold out" somehow, that I've joined the mainstream and done exactly what everyone expected of me: I've joined the fuel-guzzling throng just like everyone else. It's ironic to me. Now that everyone's talking about hybrid cars and gas prices are becoming unwieldy, I've finally gone and bought a big old boat of a sedan. It cost me over $50 to fill it up. Ouch.

Don't get me wrong; I like my big old sedan. It's in good shape and gets me where I need to go. But with the acquiescence of this car and the freedom it brings, I feel like I've lost another kind of freedom. I've lost the freedom of not having to worry about things like gas prices and car insurance and oil changes. And I took a certain amount of pride in not owning a car, even though most people I know thought it was odd. I was proud of myself for making this sacrifice to contribute to the well-being of our planet. Now every time I start my engine, I'm riding a wave of guilt.

In the last week since I've forfeited my morning walk to work for a ridiculously short drive, I've also forfeited a certain connection I felt with my neighborhood. Walking to work grounded me in a way that driving can't. There's something to be said for stepping out your front door in the morning and walking down your street, getting a visceral feel for the day's weather and stopping to watch and hear birds and squirrels in the trees above you or to pause for a moment to gaze upon your neighbor's flowers. There simply isn't time to do this while driving. It all speeds by in a blur.

They say that "less is more." It's true. Whenever we acquire something, be it a car, a home, or even a relationship, there is a sense of loss. Taking on these responsibilities steals from us a certain freedom and innocence. I find myself looking back now to the time before I owned a car, when I spent less money and had fewer worries. But I wouldn't go back. Having a car makes life much easier in many ways; harder, too, but overall I feel the convenience of driving makes it worth it.

Now I need to find a way to make sure I'm responsible about driving. I don't want to drive everywhere just because I can. If a place is close enough to walk to, I want to remember to walk. I don't want to become just another gas-guzzling American. I am still searching for a way to temper convenience with responsibility.

Birth Control for Deer?

Recently I visited my hometown of Babylon, New York, located on the south shore of Long Island. While walking to the Fire Island Lighthouse with my mother, I spotted the sign pictured above. My reaction was a mixture of amusement, horror, and relief.

On one hand, I'm glad efforts are being made to control the deer population without killing them. (This article from Audobon details the method of birth control given.) On the other hand, I can't help feeling that it doesn't quite seem fair to shoot these unknowing does with darts of deer Depo-Provera. Who are we to think we have the right to tell another species not to reproduce? Of course, most of us, myself included, find it perfectly humane to neuter our pet cats and dogs. The shelters are already overrun with stray animals, and Fire Island is overrun with deer who are, in a sense, almost as domesticated as pets. Years of being fed by well-meaning humans have made the deer unafraid of us. What disturbs me, I suppose, is how few remaining wild things are truly allowed to be wild anymore. We humans have exerted our control over creatures great and small, from the wolves some farmers fear will eat our livestock to domestic housecats, obligate carnivores who are sometimes fed vegan cat food by well-meaning animal rights activists.

As a general rule, I am not opposed to hunting. In fact, I'm more in favor of hunting wild animals than factory farming and raising animals specifically for our own consumption. I don't believe there is anything morally wrong with eating meat as long as the animals are raised and slaughtered as humanely as possible. I think hunting is fine as long as we use as much of the animal's body is used as possible for food, hide, etc. I do have a problem with hunters who shoot animals simply for sport, for the thrill of the chase and to prove yet again that humans are stronger, smarter, and more important than any other animal on Earth. We have forgotten that we are no more than animals ourselves. We forget that we are part of the food chain, too.

Would it be wrong to hunt the deer on Fire Island to help bring the population down? I don't think so, as long as the hunters had a taste for venison and an appreciation of deerskin. Would I like to see deer killed? Of course not. But once upon a time, humans were among the predators who kept the deer population in check. Now that most of us are too busy eating cows, most of us have forgotten about that.

Being human carries with it a great responsibility. We have a responsibility to care for and protect other creatures, while at the same time keeping our own place in the food chain. There is no easy solution, it seems.

(Incidentally, San Jose, California planned to cull its deer population using bows and arrows last year, according to NBC11. I can't say I like that plan, either, unless someone actually ate all that venison.)

Save California State Parks!

This is an issue that is close to my heart. The Governor proposes to close 48 California state parks and reduce the number of lifeguards on 16 state beaches in order to save money for the State. This is an outrage. The parks belong to the people. Take action and tell your government what you think!

http://www.calparks.org/act-now/2008-budget-proposal.html