Vermilion flycatcher

I can't believe I forgot to mention the vermillion flycatcher, the most throat-catchingly beautiful bird of the weekend. I have no idea if it's common as flies down there, but I'd never seen one.

I was in the visitor's center at the Nature Conservancy's Patagonia-Sonoita Creek Preserve, trying to figure out what reptile I'd seen sulking on a tree branch, when the young girl holding the fort for her father, out on a tractor somewhere, looked out the window and casually mentioned the bird. I looked, I exclaimed, I fluttered. It sat there, in the midst of a golden field of recently cut coarse stalks of something, perched on a little post, just being its staggeringly beautiful, blazing scarlet-and-black ordinary self.  Wow.

Another exciting development, my poem was a hit. Now I'm so excited I want to be a poet when I grow up instead of a molecular geneticist.

Patagonia

Yesterday I went bird-watching in Patagonia!  I'd been seeing these trips announced in the Audubon e-mails and longing to go for several months. Finally I did it. (Yes, that's Patagonia, Arizona, not somewhere in South America.)

The I-10 to Tucson is such a giant bore, nevermind the miles and miles of having to drive 55 due to construction all through the Tucson part of the freeway. But once past Tucson, taking 83 south, it is so pretty. I can't imagine why I never went down this way before. It's kind of a transition zone between the Sonoran and Chiracahuan deserts, so there are species familiar to me but no saguaros and a number of unfamiliar shrubs. There's also quite a bit of grassland (lovely with mountains, the Santa Ritas, in the background). The most startling thing is how green it was. It's been unusually wet this year, so I guess it's not always quite so pretty.

Patagonia has a lake, made from damming up Sonoita Creek in the 60's. A state park surrounds the lake, which is popular with the usual sorts of water recreationists, but there is also a large natural area, Sonoita Creek State Natural Area, with trails. That's where we walked. The trip was almost cancelled because everyone but me backed out. The leader, however, was willing to take me out and thought he could find a couple of locals to join us. We were a group of four, all happy that I'd begged for the trip to go forward.

I only had to pant up one small hill, and the view of creek and small waterfall made it well worth the exertion. We saw lots of things that were new to me, including gray hawks, four kinds of hummingbirds, a ground dove, and four kinds of flycatchers including a northern beardless tyrranulet that was way too plain for such a pretentious name. I accused the leader of making that one up.

Then two new gal-friends and I ate lunch at the Velvet Elvis, which turned out to be a positively gourmet little restaurant whose name is totally obscured by trees, making it easy to miss. They seem to specialize in gourmet salads and gourmet pizzas. I opted for a salad since the night before I had gorged myself to insensibility at another crypto-gourmet place across the street, disguised as a coffee shop/bakery/ice cream parlor. At night they bring out the dinner menu and pages of wine list. I had planned an evening walk but ended up horizontal, powerless, and thoroughly sated with food, wine, and dessert.

I thought I was going to a bitty town in the middle of nowhere. Little did I know that there is culture in them there hills of southern Arizona!

After lunch I followed a curious road sign consisting of a diagram of binoculars and an arrow. I ended up at a Nature Conservancy riparian preserve, and despite the prospect of few birds and heat at that hour of the day, I had to check out their 2-mile loop trail along Sonoita Creek. I met a deer and a tree-climbing lizard that I finally decided, back at the visitor's center with its handy little library, was a mountain-something lizard (genus Sceloperus) climbing a tree and just lying there on a branch looking weird & ugly, black flecked with white, and I was so happy to be able to identify it, and then I didn't write it down and now I can't remember what it was and googling doesn't help and I am so frustrated I could die! (I'll be back!)

Acclimation

I am getting used to walking around campus in the hot sun, even with a pack of books on my back! I did not think this was possible. Once more I had to drag around my big fat French/English dictionary so I could spend five hours between classes finishing my homework. No problem at all.

This week has been a breeze, even though it has so far been hotter than last week. I haven't used the shuttle bus from the parking lot to campus, even though it's free and easy. I don't even want to. I'd rather walk. I still walk from shade spot to shade spot, but heck, I'm at least as smart as a cow. I am even going up and down stairs with ease, shunning elevators. (I make an exception for the late-afternoon French class on the third floor. By then I'm ready to give in a little.)

Now this stairs thing is a biggie. Two years ago I had to not only hold on to the handrail but actually pull myself a bit with my arms. Up until this week, I was still using the handrail, but without the arm assist. My leg muscles are stronger, but I still needed the rail for balance. This week I'm going right up (or down) the center of the stairs. What this means is that I've found the little muscles I needed to use to keep my balance and keep my knees in line. Hallelujah! I am born again!

The courses are feeding me. Every lecture in molecular genetics gives me several "wow" moments. I leave the class smiling. Even in the undergraduate (300-level) evolution course, I am learning new things about modern phylogenetic analysis this week. I'm finally taking notes.

The surprising and gratifying thing is that the poetry class is more exciting than anything else. It is totally new to me. Even though I wrote a bunch of poems thirty years ago, I had no idea what a poem is meant to do or how to make it do that. I just wrote off the top of my head and then worked at it until it felt right. When I read them now, I see good stuff in them but glaring deficiencies as well. I have to turn in an original (new) poem Sunday evening, and I am thinking about it as I walk around campus or sit at an outdoor table enjoying the shade. It has to start by using a male or female character and the character's location.

And here's another twist: French composition is intersecting with the poetry workshop. To improve our short compositions, we are asked to find more interesting verbs and adjectives, to include color and movement in our descriptions, to notice poetic things like rhythm and alliteration, and to use metaphors. The landscape I described in my first French paragraph will be the location for my poem, and the woman looking at it has already cropped up in French class. Our third revision has to introduce a character, which I created yesterday afternoon.

I gave a little oral report based on part of an essay by Ezra Pound in poetry class, and I got so excited I was bouncing in my chair and turning red. That was fun. I ended up bringing in scientific method and Chinese ideograms, and asking the instructor if Pound would approve of our using only free verse in class instead of learning all the forms and seeing if our poems would bull their way out of symmetry and into vers libre. 

The introduction in the poetry text goes on about how poetic language is a more primary, authentic original language... and now I can begin to feel that.

Back to school!

This week has wrought a radical change in my lifestyle. Now, by the time I flop down somewhere, I've earned it. I have Grumpy to thank for the pre-dawn walk routine, without which there is no way in hell I'd have been able to survive the week.

As it is, I am thriving and loving it. There is nothing more fun than going to university and taking whatever courses I want. Still, it will be a lot more fun when the temperature is about 20 degrees lower. Thanks to disorganized professors, one has to visit one or more of the on- and off-campus bookstores just about every day to corral one's textbooks, and then add trips to return those that aren't needed after all. I've been to all three. The official one has a Starbucks, cooling misters out front, and free lockers to stash your suspicious bags and backpack. When returning books, it is best to first look at the receipt and recall from which store one purchased the book in the first place. 'Nuf said.

One day midweek I borrowed Grumpy's pedometer and was shocked to learn I'd walked over five miles. I wear shorts, a hat, and sunglasses and carry lots of water. I walk like a cow, from one spot of shade to another. I pull out my map and calculate the shortest or shadiest route. I've learned to walk in straight lines so as to avoid surprise collisions with bicycles and skateboards. I glance behind me before making turns.

Molecular genetics class is delicious. The prof is middle-aged, relaxed, good-natured, and he has love in his voice when he talks about DNA. It's a small class, graduate level, and the students aren't afraid to ask questions. I'm stretching myself to keep up already. The exams are all essay.

French composition is going to be a bitch. The young prof has a high, thin, super-feminine voice that I can barely hear, and of course she rattles along at the speed of light. The first day she gave a load of homework that nobody finished on time, so maybe she's new and will figure it out. I'm floundering, having avoided French since last summer's stressful two-week intensive at La Cardere in France. I still have flashbacks. But I don't want to lose my French, so I'm gritting my teeth and sticking it out.

Evolution class is entertaining. We watched a clip from Monty Python's "Holy Grail" to illustrate the weakness of inductive reasoning. The prof is young, brilliant, intense, and happy. He's at the peak of his career.  All the exams are multiple choice, the lowest one dropped. Piece of cake!

The big surprise was the poetry class (workshop, actually). I had no idea what to expect. The assigned classroom was in the basement of the Life Sciences building, the same room as my molecular genetics class. Rows of wooden chairs are crammed together on a stepped raised platform, like a miniature stadium (maybe 25 seats at most). The room is old and bleak. When the prof walked in, she grimaced and shuddered, calling it "the cellar." She immediately left to find another room. We ended up meeting around a huge round wooden table in a house set aside for writers.

After the usual syllabus stuff, we started looking at poems. She gave us a few tips on speed & pauses, then started us reading aloud. She would stop each student after three or four lines, reminding them to slow down, to hear and feel the words. She called on me to read "Kissing" by Dorianne Laux(?). I lost myself in the poem, had goose-bumps by the end. She didn't interrupt. She said I'd done a wonderful job. I was thrilled. I felt like maybe this is something I can do.

I went to the trees and shrubs of Arizona class for the first time today, as it meets only on Friday for about six hours. The class schedule said 9:40-11:40 am and 12:40-4:40 pm, but in fact alternate Fridays are all-day field trips, 8am-5pm! The only way I could do this is if I drop molecular genetics, which meets 8:35-9:25 MWF. Damn! This was not an easy decision. I love to follow a fuzzy-headed naturalist around in the woods all day, soaking up what he knows! But I'm trying to decide whether to seriously pursue molecular genetics, maybe enter another PhD program if I can. The course is my decider. So, I dropped trees & shrubs... for now.

I thank the stars in the sky for a three-day weekend!

Getting excited

All of a sudden I am full of energy and bouncing to do things. I have registered for fifteen credit hours of classes at ASU, starting Monday.  Perhaps I've gone overboard? It's hard to resist when anything over seven is free. I want to get my money's worth. It's likely there will be a class or two I'll want to drop if I don't like the instructor or something.

Here's the list:  organic evolution, molecular genetics, trees & shrubs of arizona, French composition, and beginning poetry writing.

Then, after filling my schedule I discovered that there is a School of Human Evolution and Social Change at ASU! I didn't know about that! Now I suddenly want to get a PhD in physical anthropology and start by enrolling in a course called "Bones, Stones, and Human Evolution." However my schedule is too full. Well, if I drop the plant course, which takes up all day Friday, I could do it.

No, I swear I'm not bipolar. Taking a deep breath...

Then, unable to sleep, I just now requested to reserve a place in three upcoming Audubon Society bird walks. I've been postponing this for months after joining the local chapter. There go my weekends. Grumpy will start grumping about not getting enough sex.

Speaking of Grumpy, today he roasted a chicken in the backyard in a solar oven improvised from a cardboard box and one of those reflective auto windshield sunscreens (photo above). He put the bird in one of those roasting bags that I long ago decided were just too weird for my kitchen. I was skeptical, but I helped turn the thing toward the sun while he fussed over tire issues this afternoon. It took most of the day, and the darned thing was delicious!

Homie appreciated the abundance of juice (greenish, for some reason) that collected in a pocket of the roasting bag. I had also boiled the giblets for him, but Grumpy needed a sudden ride for his tire issues, and I forgot to turn off the burner. Darn, I didn't take a picture of the black mess.

Odds and ends

This is a waterfall Grumpy and I visited in Hawaii (the big island) in 2005. I just stumbled upon it and fixed it up a bit. There are so many cool, green places to be.

This morning we took off about 5 am for one of our five-mile canal walks. Nights have been cool again due to monsoon season and its little stormy dust-ups that occasionally drop some rain. Grumpy set a fast pace. He's been keeping up with exercise better than I because he doesn't mind mall-walking. When I go off with Homie, on our own, we walk in a more leisurely fashion. I discovered today that I have lost a notch or two in the fitness department.

It was a good walk, but it did me in. I showered, fell naked into bed, and didn't stir until 2 pm. I guess I must have needed that, because now I feel absolutely great (and wide awake at midnight). What's to do on a hot Sunday afternoon? Why, movies of course!

Grumpy will almost never go to a movie with me. He's not much impressed by movies. Nothing compares to "Howard the Duck" in his opinion. But today for some reason he was willing. First we saw the latest Woody Allen film, "Vicky Cristina Barcelona." I had read Ebert's review, so I was prepared. It's always tough when a celebrity tries to change a bit after boring himself almost to death. This film must have been fun to make. I've never been to Spain, and now I want to go. Javier Bardem is so sexy. I would run off with him in a second. A furious Penelope Cruz is a sight to behold. I'll bet she absolutely loved letting go like a toxic fury. Those lips were made for curses.

Grumpy was bored. He left in the middle to get more popcorn and missed the threesome part.

The ticket price was outrageous. AMC has set themselves up to rip off the public on the weekends. "Evening" prices start at 4 pm! So, we decided we were justified in our quest to get our money's worth by sneaking into a second movie. "Hellboy II" was starting at just the right time. Now, I am a Hellboy virgin, never heard of him, didn't see "Hellboy I" if there was one. This was over-the-top weird. I have to admit I was deeply impressed with the variety and creativity of critters they came up with for this film. Otherwise it was a garden-variety tale of good vs evil and unlikely romance (bad-ass guy with a heart of gold).

Wonderful walking weather returns!

Homie and I had a 4-mile walk today! This hasn't been possible for at least a month. We set out about 5:30 am, temp 82, thick cloud cover, humidity in the 60's. I checked the temperature again when we got home about 7:30 and it was still the same. Wow.

Sometimes this "monsoon" season brings a treat. Last night we got wind and lightning but no rain. This morning the clouds were so thick the sunlight was weak, still tolerable even at 7:30 am. Of course I was sweating streams, could feel it running down my neck, face, and back. But it was so cool I didn't mind the sweat. Homie did some fast running in big circles, a sure sign of change. I was planning to drive to Flagstaff for a hike today, but there was no need.

I am in iPhone heaven. This gizmo makes me gush with adolescent raves (awesome! cool! wow!). Last night I downloaded an app called "Distance" which tells how far you have walked or run or skipped using the phone's GPS. It works great! That's how I know we walked 4 (actually 3.93) miles this morning.

Of course the iPhone has some limitations. Yesterday I applied for admission to ASU so I could take a couple of courses fall semester. I went to the admissions office and was told that one could only apply online. Damn, here I'd driven over here, was standing in the office, and had to go back home and do it online? I made unhappy noises, then "Wait! I can use my iPhone!" I flopped down in the lounge area outside the admissions office and went to work.

Well, I tried, but the small screen and clumsy thumb-typing were just too much for such a challenge (three pages of application). I kept getting thrown back to the starting screen. Sad, I returned to the admissions office to ask why it wasn't working (probably because I couldn't manage to type my password twice without errors). At this point the surly, unhelpful, unfriendly young lady decided to tell me about the four computers I had failed to notice in the admissions office which were sitting there for prospective students to use for their online applications for admission. (She was probably one of my former unsuccessful students at the community college getting her revenge!)

I also had trouble getting my email synched between iPhone and iMac. The main problem was my stubbornness. Instead of immediately switching to a google mail account like the brilliant person I belatedly morphed into, I spent an entire day trying to synch my cox mail account. In my defense, the iPhone support website did have instructions for doing so. They didn't work.

But there is one thing I can blame on Apple. The cleaning cloth that came with it left so much lint on the face of the iPhone that it was impossible to install the plastic shield that came with the Belkin carry-case I selected. Plain air bubbles were easy to push out, but the air bubble surrounding each bit of lint was impossible to move. Again, much time spent trying to do the impossible was followed by surrender.

Everything else about the iPhone is a joy. The other day I rushed off to meet friends at a movie across town. I wasn't going to make it in time, so I asked the iPhone to show me the nearest Starbucks. I got 5 pins on the map and went to the nearest, where I ordered a fruity scone and ate it while looking for other movie theatres and showtimes on the iPhone so my trip would not be in vain. I found one, enjoyed it, and went home happy.

Bye-bye Lone Star steakhouse

Gone are the days when we could indulge in the irresistible Cajun ribeye at Lone Star! Something awful has happened.

Last night we went to our regular Lone Star near Metro Center in Phoenix. A glass of pinot noir, Cajun ribeye, baked potato... yumm!? Not this time. The steak was unrecognizable -- small, thin, and overcooked. The kitchen made two tries at medium-rare, then I gave up and ate the second one (with its now cold baked potato) with resolve to never set foot in the place again. The dog got most of it.

A chat with the manager revealed that they have changed to less expensive meat (grade prime to regular perhaps?) to cut costs. It seems people aren't eating out that much any more in today's economic downturn. The waitress confided that she had heard lots of complaints and that the kitchen staff was new. Too bad. It used to be superb; now I wouldn't recommend it to anyone. Personally, I think people are still eating out but not at Lone Star.

Crater Lake

This jewel, this precious jewel, sits and gleams in south central Oregon surrounded by dry scrubby landscape. Hence the shock when, after driving for hours, slowly higher up the side of an ordinary-looking mountain, one stops at the first viewpoint. Nothing is visible from the car. You trudge up to the railing, peer over the lip of a dropoff, and SMACK! In the midst of dry beige and gray-green you are instantly blinded with blue -- serene, glassy, magical.

No rivers enter or leave this peculiar lake. It's fed by snow and rain alone. The rim is so steep, the water is largely inaccessible. No water skiers, no fishermen, no swimmers, no scuba divers, no picnickers, no frolicking children or dogs. A solitary motorboat was visible this day; must be a park employee who has access to a rough track through a locked gate. I wonder what s/he does? Water samples?

The eruption took about 4,000 feet off the top, leaving a dormant volcano only 8,000+ feet tall. Other smaller eruptions formed cones here and there inside the crater. One, Wizard Island, is visible in my photo; another left craggy remnants on the slope just outside the crater rim; more are invisible below the water surface. Lava flows blocked the core, enabling the crater to form this astonishing lake.

The lake is about 2,000 feet deep. That's a lot of water. I tried to imagine the inevitable drainage (flood?) when the rim eventually erodes. Will it be gradual, or will a piece fall away suddenly and release tons of water to wreak havoc below?

Parts of the drive along the rim are terrifying. There is absolutely no shoulder, not even a narrow but reassuring strip. Where the pavement ends there is an abrupt abyss. There I was, driving down the middle of the road hoping nobody would come the other way, grateful to the point of almost thanking nobody that I had not chosen to go around the long way. How many tourists have been lost here?