I have been punked by WordPress, the very website that hosts my blog! I run a modest little blog here. I have a faithful group of followers. I’m not breaking any records in readership, but we laugh together here.
A little backstory – WordPress puts out statistics so I can see how I’m doing (at least by viewer numbers. They don’t ask any personal questions about my general wellbeing.) On October 28, my stats were surprisingly good considering I had not put out any content in a couple weeks. By November 1, WordPress was telling me that my stats were booming, and I was getting more traffic than usual with 69 hourly views. I had my largest “readership” ever on that day, but something seemed off. I wasn’t getting any comments. Also, when somebody new finds me, they usually look at a few different posts. These were one different post view per visitor.
Initially I was excited that my blog was booming, but we all know that if something seems too good to be true, it’s probably not true. That was the case here. AI was “reading” my blog posts. I guess they have a lot of time on their non-hands, so why not.
I asked my faithful blogging friend at www.theromanticvineyard.com if she was having any unusual activity on her blog. She was and she looked into it. (I love friends who will dig around and get an answer.) WordPress allowed AI to read its blogs and try to learn from them. I can’t imagine what they learned from my blog, but I guess even AI needs a sense of humor.
Six days later, and I’m back to my normal level of activity, so I guess I’ve been mined for all the gems that AI could find. If you find anyone out there that sounds a lot like me, ask for some identification please.
On a side note, my ever supportive and optimistic husband said that he thought I was getting bleed-over from when I posted on Facebook a poorly lit video of a bear eating from my camera/feeder in the backyard. It has 595 views so far, more than I ever have received from any blog post. So, to wrap up my story and for your viewing pleasure, I’m including the clip here for you. This happened at 4:30 one morning last week. The bear ripped the feeder off its post and then munched on bird seed for a while. You can hear him chewing. Also, I think he may be upside down in the video because some friends thought he was a pig. Nope. A pig could not have reached that high, and Mr. Bear ate a modest amount of birdseed, so nope in that vein as well. This must have been a dainty bear, because he didn’t even touch the other near-by feeders.
Speaking of big things happening around here, I am getting ready to release a new book! This one is for grown-ups! It will be out before Thanksgiving, and you know what that means! It means my Christmas shopping is done! Tune in to my next blog post for more about it and how you can get some of your Christmas shopping done, too.
Valentine’s Day. These are words that challenge me. Bob and I don’t make a big deal over the day, but we do recognize it. You don’t stay happily married for almost 50 years by ignoring the day designated especially for romantic love.
Most years we try to pull away to have time for ourselves. That’s challenging. A lot of married folks our age can simply stay home and celebrate together, but we do not live alone, so that can be awkward. I don’t like to go to crowded restaurants on that day either. We go out to dinner frequently, so it’s not that unique, though I love to go out to dinner, so it’s not a bad choice. Any excuse not to cook it great by me.
This year we decided to go to one of our favorite places – the Lake Apopka Wildlife Drive. This is my birding happy place. The views are expanses of blue and shades of green, which are enhanced by the lovely sounds of birdsong. The drive can take as little as two hours, but it usually takes us closer to three as we stop and take a walk along Lake Apopka and pull over at multiple places to pause and bird watch. It’s relaxing. At least it usually is.
For Valentine’s Day we packed a picnic lunch before we headed to the drive. We had never done that before, so we thought it would be special. We also made reservations for a movie later that night. Captain America: Brave New World would not qualify as a rom/com, but we enjoy the franchise, so why not! Because we didn’t know how long we’d be on the drive, we decided to wing it when it came to dinner. We knew restaurants would be packed, so we’d just let it play out.
The opening road on the drive this time of year is always packed with alligators, ducks, coots, and gallinules. Lake Apopka is a prime migratory spot, so we knew we’d have lots to see. I have a trusty bird guide to help identify the ducks. There are so many species! Every year I say I’m going to brush up on my duck knowledge, but by the end of migration season, I’m still weak as a duckling in my identification skills. It was a good thing I have a birding guide. It would have been an even better thing if I had taken it off the dining room table and put it in the car.
The drive in was lovely. We even spotted a couple of Wilson’s Snipes with their extremely long bill, so if you want to trick someone into going on a snipe hunt, this is not the place.
At the end of the road, we walked along the lake trying to spot alligators. We hadn’t seen a single one all the way in and that is strange. I reminded myself that they don’t take them in at night as I pictured Florida cowboys herding them into pens. Nope, that isn’t the way it works. Finally, I spotted a big daddy lurking by the shore with another gator swimming in the current passing him by.
We returned to our car and encountered a road closure that forced all the vehicles to take the same road – the road along the lakeshore, our least favorite way to go. That is when the tides turned. You don’t see as much on that part of the drive, and there is only one pull-out to bird watch. We were out for a relaxing day, so we figured this was a mere bump in the dirt road. We didn’t care. Until we did.
The speed limit along the drive is about 10 mph. It’s a bumpy, dirt road, and it’s made for watching wildlife from your vehicle, so that’s about right. The car leading the pack along the lakeshore that day must have been new or totally self-absorbed or possibly fascinated by the lack of wildlife that day (it was the worst day for bird watching we have ever experienced there) or maybe cruel and sadistic. I don’t know, but I do know that he drove 2-3 mph the entire way. By halfway down this long, boring road, there were at least 25 vehicles behind him, each with a driver ready to strangle somebody. When we approached the pull-out, I was hopeful that he would do just that and let us pass. Nope.
I should point out that there is no passing. On one side of the road is a drop-off to a canal and swamp area. The other side is Lake Apopka. It was brutal, and I think at one point a turtle passed us by. As we approached the sharp right turn of the road, there was another opportunity for this driver to pull over and let our growing line of cars pass. Nope again.
By now the car behind us was getting antsy. He pulled up close to our rear bumper on the driver’s side, signaling that he wanted to pass. He kept on us like a heron after a snake. Then he decided to honk his horn. I know he was desperate. We all were! But seriously! We were at least ten cars from the beginning of the line. Perhaps he wanted to start a procession of honking to alert the driver at the start.
At long last we reached the picnic area. Once again there were few birds to be seen, but we could tell they had been there by the splattering of bird poop on the tables. Ambiance at its best for a bird watcher? Uh, no, but we made do. From our perch on the poopified picnic table, we had the opportunity to people watch as another long parade of cars was inching along the road towards us at a snail’s pace. One oblivious driver got out of his truck, not 15 feet from the parking area, to view a baby gator. This blocked the entire road full of unhappy birders. As another man got out of his truck to approach the clueless gator gawker, Bob and I decided to skedaddle and get ahead of whatever wildlife was about to be on display. (Reminder: It’s illegal to feed alligators, especially to feed them people.)
At the end of the drive, we discovered that we would have plenty of time to go to a relaxing dinner before the movie, except we didn’t have reservations. We got in the car around 5:00 to get a jump on the Valentine crowd, but we made the mistake of choosing Longhorn Steak House, which is a favorite of the over sixty crowd, so they were packed. Five in the evening is regular dinnertime for them, so down the road we went.
I called Miller’s Ale House and they said it was only a ten minute wait and we should come ahead, no need to leave our name. When we got there, it was a twenty minute wait and the receptionist said we should have called ahead and left our name. We looked at each other and shrugged it off. Twenty minutes wasn’t going to be a problem. That is until it turned into 45 minutes, and we still had names ahead of us. Captain American was getting closer and closer, but we really needed Doctor Who or some other time traveler to help us achieve our plan.
Well, Chipotle had no line at all. Go figure! We weren’t too disappointed because we do eat out often, but it was kind of amusing that the place where we could enjoy a meal alone together was fast food. The rest of the world was waiting at Miller’s Ale House and Longhorn.
Buying tickets to go to the movies is so great now. You don’t have to wait in line or worry about your seat selection. You can get that empty seat buffer between you and the next group. It’s easily done on your smartphone. We settled in with plenty of time.
Minutes before the show started, a young man with a big tray full of food plopped down right beside me in our buffer zone. I should mention that the theater was only about a third full. I thought maybe he was joining the group to his right, but no, he was there to watch the movie with me.
It didn’t take but a minute to surmise that this young man with the welcoming smile and friendly manner had some special needs and that he was a huge Marvel fan. He was so excited that when the movie began, he clapped and informed me that Captain America is not Steve Rogers anymore, but it’s now Sam Wilson who was the Falcon. He didn’t want me to miss a thing. He chatted right up to the start of the movie, and I wondered if he was going to disturb anyone, but he kept his voice low while informing me of who was who each time a new character appeared. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I was familiar with the storylines. It was a privilege to watch the movie with this fellow, and I have to say a highlight of a very weird Valentine’s Day. Of course, Bob was there, but my new friend kept his voice low enough that even Bob was unaware of his comments. I’m glad he chose the buffer seat next to me.
Traveling on a train is the epitome of why digital photos are better than that old 35mm film. I will spare you the entire contents of my album “Bad Pictures Through Train Windows.” It is an extensive collection that reminds me to be in the moment rather than try to capture the moment. Life is a blur, especially on a train.
There are a few shots that are worthy of sharing, for instance my friend, Debi (with Tom), also attempting to capture the moment through her train window as we left Italy and entered Switzerland. It’s a compulsion when surrounded by beauty; but especially when winter invades your springtime trip and when you’re from Florida where winter would be a warm day compared to what we were currently experiencing.
I loved every minute of the trip. The trains were very comfortable, perhaps that had something to do with riding first class. (Thanks, Bob.) After driving the roads of Tuscany for five days, we all enjoyed leaving the driving to somebody else.
Lucerne, our first destination in Switzerland, was adorable. Our hotel especially typified what I thought a Swiss hotel should look like.
Wilden Mann translates to wild husband, so we found the right place. There’s nothing quite as wild as four retired husbands traveling through Europe with their wives. You can decide if that is sarcasm or a hidden truth.
Cozy, warm hotel lobby
After settling in, food was the first order of business. This is traditional Swiss food – macaroni and cheese with a side of applesauce. I ordered it as it was easy. I didn’t need Google Translate to figure that one out. In this part of Switzerland, German is widely spoken. The applesauce was a weird accompaniment.
Despite the cold and rainy weather, we hit the streets. When our group first considered Lucerne as a destination, Ann, one of the primary planners of the trip, had shared that there was an old, covered wooden footbridge worth seeing in Lucerne. She had to endure the teasing that followed her suggestion that we go see an old footbridge. Initially we did not think that an old bridge would be a main attraction, but we were wrong.
The Kapellbrucke (chapel bridge) crosses the Reuss River and if we had wanted to avoid crossing it, that would have been difficult. I had wondered if it would be hard to find, but we rounded a corner and there it was in all its old glory (not to be confused with Old Glory).
The bridge has triangular-shaped paintings set under the trusses along the ceiling of the bridge. These date back to the 17th century. This is the oldest wooden covered bridge in Europe and the world’s oldest truss bridge. It also is the symbol of the city of Lucerne, so it’s a big deal.
There are also lovely views along the way. It’s worth noting that the bridge on which we stood had been crossed by more generations of people than my math skills could calculate. Like I’ve said before, they know how to do old in Europe.
This is my favorite view of the river.
Lucerne offers great breakfasts. This is traditional Swiss breakfast. The bread was soft and fresh. The fruit and cheese were yummy, but the meats reminded me of the lunch meat I grew up on – a little fatty. I was surprised to get fresh orange juice – just like home!
The pharmacy near our hotel felt like stepping back in time.
We walked through the city to visit the Lion Monument. The Monument, which is in a lovely English garden, was unveiled in 1821. It was designed in Rome and carved in the rock face at its present location. It stands in commemoration of the events in Paris in August 1792 where an angry throng stormed the Tuileries and killed hundreds of Swiss guardsmen who were serving King Louis XVI.
Regardless of political views, the artwork is to be admired. The way it’s situated in the garden drew Bob and I to slow down, sit, and enjoy this beautiful spot. A bonus was listening to the local birds and identifying them on our Merlin Bird ID app. (A little bird watching is always in order.) It took 23 months to carve the lion. The expression on his face reflected the anguish of the Swiss people.
Lucerne is one of the most beautiful cities I’ve ever visited. Look at these pictures and see if you don’t agree.
Five out of six people really like fondue and it’s a must in Switzerland.
Debi was pretty excited.
I enjoyed potato and leek soup.
The view from the restaurant. Also, a birding opportunity. (The one that got away.)
Side-stepping to Zurich for a moment – Bob and I ventured up many steps for a view from the old town. While there I made friends with some ducks. (This is an updated post because the next 3 photos are actually in Zurich, and while you readers may not care, I’m fixing it for my future sanity.)
Zurich
Zurich
He quacked me up, also in Zurich.
Since I ate a light lunch (in Lucerne – sorry for bouncing around), it was time to eat again. Oh, boy! Ravioli all kinds of ways with a light buttery sauce.
These were my choices.
Ravioli’s reputation has skyrocketed for me since discovering how it should be done.
At the end of the day, I started missing some of the comforts of home – like being able to wash my feet in the shower.
We’ll go home soon enough. Next time I’ll take you on a side trip up the Swiss mountains.
Our last day in Siena was a day of rest (and laundry). It was also a day to try out a different restaurant for lunch. We googled pizza places nearby, and I was thrilled to find one with a sense of humor. You don’t always see that on a website. This ristorante was so proud of their pizza crust that they claimed you would “go to Hell” if you didn’t eat it. Even though this challenged my theology, I was intrigued, but unfortunately the ristorante was not open – a problem I have mentioned here in the past. They keep different eating hours over there.
We did find a super cute place with a great view. I deviated from pasta and Italian meats and went straight for a steak. The word on the streets of Tuscany was you need to get a steak while you’re there. Also, when ordering, don’t attempt to tell them how you want it cooked. Apparently, they don’t like that. Leave that to the chef! It was delicious and the presentation was molto attraente (very appealing).
Other than lunchtime, we spent the entire day at our VRBO, Capanna di Elfo, which even though it translates to Elf Hut in English, we did not see any elves. We did see birds. Our friends and fellow travelers, Jim and Ann, are birders; and Jim pointed out purple martins as they flew overhead. That was new on my lifetime list, which is always exciting to me. However, the birding prize of the trip was a unique guy called a Eurasian Hoopoe. I had never heard of these, so I was thrilled.
One morning while getting ready for the day in my typical spot in our bathroom, which was by an open window which allowed for better lighting and overlooked the hill town, I heard a funny sound – like “who, who, who.” From Jim’s description, I knew this had to be him – the hoopoe, not Jim. Although Jim has a pretty fun sense of humor, so I could not be sure. When I finally went outside, I was able to spot the hoopoe. To add to that, Debi had been chasing him around the property and she took this amazing video. Thanks, Debi, for letting me post it.
We ended the day by gathering in the living room for a few moments of thankfulness to God for our trip and for our friendships. The next morning (Friday), we would say a sad goodbye to this chapter. Of the places we visited, I think Tuscany was my favorite of this trip; perhaps largely due to the accommodations we booked there. The Elf Hut was the beautiful launching pad to this exquisite region.
Bob and I woke up nervous the next morning. We had to return our rental cars in Florence and our trip two days prior was kind of a nightmare. We thought Friday traffic might be worse. Thankfully, this was not the case. There was still the getting-there part, but it was uneventful other than trying to gas up the cars, which proved complicated. We could easily gas up one, which took diesel so technically we fueled the car, but the car which Bob drove could not be filled in the same station, and there was no attendant – something we were getting accustomed to. After a short trip down the road, we filled our tank. We turned in our cars (hooray!) and walked the short distance to the train station. It was time to add trains to the planes and automobiles transportation modes of our trip.
But first, we eat. Another great Italian meal to fuel us for our trip to Como via Milan.
They’ve got the meats!
Just another cork project
Inside the Florence train station. Note the artwork above. It shows the clothing and hair movement as a result of a train passing.
I love traveling by train, but getting on the train can be stressful. We were thankful that we had traveled light. Wheeling a carry-on suitcase with a backpack strapped to the top is the way to go. We all made it safely on our first train. Addio, Firenze!
Connecting in Milan was exciting (translate stressful). We watched the boards for which platform we would board our train. It told us the train was on time, but the particular platform remained a mystery until the very last minute. We had, of course, used the restrooms while waiting, but we hadn’t thought to make our way to the center of the large Milan train station to ease our boarding process. Thus, we were very far from our indicated platform when they finally told us the one to which we needed to proceed. Right away. It was time to board.
The Milan train station was huge.
Canine traveler all gussied up. She was trembling with excitement.
Keeping eight of us together is challenging in these circumstances. As usual, Bob was in the front of our pack of travelers. I was close behind and heard him inquire as to which cars we should board to use our purchased first-class tickets. These cars were marked with a prominent #1, she told him. The first car was already packed, she informed us. We should go several cars down and get on any with the #1 on it.
At this point it was every man for himself. Six of us climbed on board about four cars back, but where were Danny and Melodye? We settled into our nice leather seats and looked around. The doors were closing. We texted and discovered our friends were slowed by rushing travelers who almost knocked them to the ground. In the kerfuffle, they lost sight of us but saw the #1 on the first car and wedged themselves in just in time. Sadly, they could not pull a Red Sea maneuver and join us in comfort. They rode the entire leg of the trip standing up like cows in a cattle car. At least we knew we would end up in Como together. It was a very mooving experience for them.
Como was touted as a favorite by everyone we knew who had visited there. We were looking forward to a boat ride on the beautiful lake and possibly visiting the much-ballyhooed Bellagio, the lovely village on the other side of the lake from where we stayed that overlooks Lake Como and was the inspiration for the Bellagio Hotel in Vegas. The cold front that came through two days earlier had us rethink our plans.
We got off the train in Como to find it breezy and chilly. We knew we had an 11-minute walk ahead of us to our hotel, but the conversion of minutes from English to Italian must have not been counted correctly as it took us approximately forever to schlep our bags along the cobblestone streets, including down a long set of stairs, mostly going in the correct direction, and finally arriving at our hotel, the Barchetta Excelsior. It was time to check in, recover a little, and find food.
We ate at a close-by pizza place, right next to McDonalds. We enjoyed a slice, some wine, and finished with limoncello.
We also found room for gelato, which we ate in the shadow of the Como Cathedral, or as is more fun to say, the Como Duomo. Officially it is (in Italian) Cattedrale di Santa Maria Assunta, or Duomo di Como).
Oh, the hours that I have spent contemplating my lack of whistling ability! Oh, the lamenting!
I have literally spent no time grieving over this. Why bother? I have resolved that I missed the whistle gene, and that’s okay. Except for birding…
I would love to whistle like the songbirds that visit my feeder, but long ago I ditched that thought. I can do a decent barred owl, but that doesn’t involve whistling. My red-shouldered hawk is not too shabby, but that’s only because it’s more like a shriek – that I can do.
That is the backstory to help you understand the challenges a recent gift has afforded me. For my birthday last month, my son, Joe, gave me a book and asked if I would like to read it together. Joe likes birds like I do, so he thought of me when he discovered Conversations with Birds – The Metaphysics of Bird and Human Communication by Alan Powers.
It may be helpful for you to know that Joe is a philosophy professor. I told Joe that I loved the idea. The title had something for me – conversations with birds, and something for him – metaphysics.
It is a running joke with me, myself, and I that I cannot understand the true meaning of the word metaphysics. I asked Joe if, after finishing this book, would that change. He was confident that it would not. He gets me.
We plunged in. Our first goal was to go through chapters one and two. Chapter One is Basic Bird, with a minor emphasis on the mourning dove. Chapter Two gets down to business – The Year of the Oriole. That is ironic since the baseball team of the same name, which is my team, is having their best year in recent history, a fact that I mentioned to Joe and one of the ways that I seem to stray off topic.
Joe is good at stretching me, so I was prepared to look up words as I read. I was not prepared for the number of musical terms the author uses. And I was taken aback on Page One when he stated, “Now we advance to whistling. Start with the minor third, usually descending, like the first two notes of our national anthem…”
I texted Joe with a reminder that I can’t whistle. This is something that hasn’t held me back in life and I wondered if it would hold me back as we read this book. As I said, I’m reconciled to the fact that I’m a non-whistler. He assured me that I would be fine.
Just in case, I googled “why can’t I whistle?”
Google excels at responding to simplicity in their searches. I was immediately linked to vox.com where on 8/13/15, Joseph Stromberg wrote an in-depth article including techniques to practice. In no time flat, I began to whistle. I won’t be entering any competitions. But, there is hope for this 67-year-old. Evidently you can teach an old older person a new trick.
You might be expecting me to share a video of me whistling. Well, don’t hold your breath. I’m pretty transparent with my writing, but at this point, I’m just a baby whistler!
I will share this video of a high-achieving whistler instead. Enjoy!
Each February, for four specific days, people from around the globe take time to go outside and count birds – hence the name, The Great Backyard Bird Count. GBBC helps scientists better understand and protect birds around the world. I have to say, it’s pretty cool to be part of an online citizen project.
This type of thing is referred to as community science. For me, it’s just a lot of fun doing what I love to do on a higher level.
The GBBC is sponsored by the Cornell Lab of Ornithology and the National Audubon Society. This project began nationally in the USA in 1998 and went global in 2013. I participated several years ago, before it was so techy. The counting, of course, is the same. It’s the reporting that is different. And, the best part, the tools for counting are amazing.
If you have any interest at all in birds, you need to download The Cornell Lab Merlin app, but be warned that it will turn you into a birding nerd. It’s free and will look like this on your phone:
This magnificent app is the perfect tool for identifying birds. I’m not too shabby at it as far as our local birds go, but the sound ID is a game changer. It listens for the birds and creates a wave file. As soon as it hears a bird, it comes up on a list. My list grew and grew on Monday morning as I did my bird count. My backyard is a cacophony of beautiful bird music anyway, so I wondered how it would track so many at once.
No problem! It highlights the ones singing, sometimes more than one at a time. It’s so addictive that even Bob has put it on his phone. This morning he turned on the sound ID when he was taking the recycling to the curb and reported his findings of a red-bellied woodpecker, northern cardinal, and brown-headed cowbirds. It’s a beautiful combination of technology and nature!
Speaking of Bob. He’s been retired for a year now and has a new hobby that involves nature. Since we feed the birds, we also feed the squirrels, but not by choice. We have invested in a feeding station that won’t allow our huge squirrel population to climb the pole and empty the feeders. There is plenty for them on the ground and they feast and bury nuts constantly. Plus, right now during winter migration, we are going through 40 pounds of seed a week. Thank goodness for Costco’s reasonably priced seed!
The squirrels are plenty entertaining as they chase each other around and try to climb our birdfeeder pole. I can tell when there’s a new one in town as the regulars know this is futile. I do love watching them experience the frustration of trying to jump from the tree that is just out of reach. But, in my humble opinion, they are rats with a fluffy tale – though not as disgusting. They’re destructive and occasionally like to chew our screen or the corner of the house. They also love to eat the blossoms of my camellia bushes. They make me crazy when they do that!
Our friend, Al, told Bob he had been trapping squirrels and relocating them. Thus began Bob’s Great Squirrel Relocation Program (GSRP). So far, after 24 hours, he has captured two and released them by the neighborhood lake. That only leaves about 50 more, though I’m not into counting them like I do birds.
Meanwhile, regarding the GBBC, I came to the counting game on the last day and almost missed it. Thanks to my sis-in-law, Beta, who made sure I was informed, or I would have missed out. That was a close one!
At 8:30 on Monday morning, I sat outside on my pool deck and started my count. The GBBC folks ask that you commit to at least a 15-minute period. I had to tear myself away after an hour. You count what you see and what you hear, just like on The Big Year (a favorite birder movie starring Steve Martin, Jack Black, and Owen Wilson).
Here’s a list of my morning findings in case you are into that sort of thing:
Birds seen:
21 brown-headed cowbirds
4 red-winged blackbirds
5 northern cardinals
2 common grackles
3 tufted titmouse
1 mourning dove
1 palm warbler
1 mockingbird
Birds heard:
Carolina wren
Blue-gray gnatcatcher
European starling
American robin
Carolina chickadee
Cedar waxwing
One time counting was not enough for me, so I went back out at 5:30 pm for half an hour.
Birds seen:
4 tufted titmouse
1 red-shouldered hawk
4 northern cardinals
2 mourning doves
2 red-winged black birds
3 common grackles
2 American crows
1 mockingbird
48 brown-headed cowbirds – Yes, it’s tough to count so I gave a conservative estimate, but that lets you know why I’m going through so much seed. These guys are not the prettiest in the group, but they have a lovely song which fills the air.
Birds Heard:
Downy woodpecker
European starling
Cedar waxwing
Carolina wren
Red-bellied woodpecker
So there were 14 species in the morning and 14, slightly varied, in the pre-evening.
It’s definitely spring in Florida, and we still have lots of migrating birds here who are avoiding winter up north. It’s a wonder I can get anything done with all of these beautiful distractions!
Have you ever thought about the things you have intentionally or even inadvertently done that influence people in your life, especially your children? I attribute my fascination with Hawaii and my love of national parks to my dad. When I was about nine years old, our family of six camped across the country in our modified VW microbus. We stopped at some of the biggies – Grand Canyon, Yellowstone, Sequoia, and Rocky Mountain National Park. I loved being in the parks and still consider them high up on my list of happy places.
Bob and I have made this trip with our four children, so we now understand what an undertaking it was and how we probably had more fun than our parents did, though they appreciated it more.
My dad and little sister Linda posing in front of one of the iconic signs. My nine-year-old self took this with my brand new camera.
I think my love and fascination of Hawaii came about a bit more subliminally. Dad made several business trips there and took lots of pictures, which were viewed as slides. That was the choice medium of the day – I don’t know why! Believe it or not, sometimes we kids would ask our parents if we could watch home movies and slides. If you can remember a time before the internet and cable TV, that makes more sense.
The problem was, every time we’d ask him to set up the projectors so we could see how cute we all were when we were younger, the first thing he would show us was Hawaii. He loved Hawaii and communicated that well and often, but when you’re a kid you can only sit through so many landscapes and beach scenes before you mentally check out. Something must have stuck in my brain though, because as an adult, Hawaii was on the top of my list of places to visit.
Fast forward to the year 2000. Bob and I celebrated our 25th anniversary with a trip to Hawaii. My dad was very excited to help with the planning. He had saved every brochure from his trips there in the 1960s. He presented them to us, I’m sure, with joyful memories hula-dancing through his head. We stared at them in only slight disbelief that he saved these black and white relics from over three decades ago. “Thanks, Dad!”
Fast forward another 22 years and Hawaii was calling us again. We had two major things in Maui that were unfinished from the year 2000 trip – both involved the spectacular Haleakala National Park, which we visited then. It’s a big park, and it is famous for its sunrises. People make reservations to be transported to the summit for coveted glimpses of the sun rising and then a bike ride down the mountain. On our 25th anniversary trip, we opted out of this because we would have had to leave our resort at 3:00 in the morning to get to the top on time. Sunrises are not dependable, as clouds and rain can quite literally put a damper on them, so you go with that in mind as well. In that season of our lives, we had four kids at home, and there wasn’t much to entice me out of bed at that time of day – not even Haleakala. We have regretted this decision, so when we booked this trip back in January, we determined to embrace that adventure.
That was before I broke my shoulder in February. Would we embrace the biking adventure? Could I embrace the biking adventure? Could I even keep a good hold on the handlebars? Can we wake up at 2:30 in the morning? We decided to hold it loosely – kind of like I would have to hold handlebars on a bike.
My shoulder was doing pretty well, definitely well enough to ride a bike, but my stamina was another thing. Plus, we would be riding along the side of the mountain road for a few hours and my entire body, much less my shoulder, was untested in this arena. Add to that I was beginning to suspect that Hawaii was trying to kill me as everything was just so hard compared to 22 years earlier. I was beginning to lose my drive.
Could 22 years make that much difference? YES! Throw in the broken shoulder and lack of movement for so much of this calendar year, mix it with altitude and elevation changes, and that could be a recipe for a last meal. Even Bob, who continues to mock me by playing pickleball three times a week, was hesitant on this one. We talked about it for a few days and then opted out. It was the mix of getting up early and riding down the mountain all the while remembering that our main goal of this trip was not to injure ourselves. And, we were tired. We were managing to keep up the pace of this trip only by fueling with coffee and diet coke. So, unlike our anniversary trip, we have no regrets.
Where there are sunrises on a mountain top, there must also be sunsets. We’d simply have to look the opposite way. Yep, we’re sunset people, so we headed to the park late morning to do some hiking and would arrive at the summit in time to get a good spot to relax and watch the show.
Our first stop in the park was Hosmer Grove, which was advised for birdwatching.
There is something special about feeling small in the forest.
After hiking through the forest we came to a clearing looking down on a tree covered valley. The birding here is mainly small song birds so I didn’t get any good pictures, but this place was a real treat. We did see several beautiful, red I’iwi and a few yellow ‘Amakihi flitting from tree to tree. This was a most relaxing hike. Bird watching takes my mind off of what my feet are doing.
Photos are from Hawaii.gov online guide to Hawaii’s birds. These beauties were too fast and small to capture with my iPhone.
Thankfully, driving up Haleakala is relatively easy. It’s a slow drive but the landscape is fantastic. We got out periodically and did little off the road hikes and were afforded breathtaking views along the way to its 10,023 foot summit.
This cliff at Kalahaku Overlook had interesting vegetation popping up from the rugged terrain. I loved how the blue sky gave way to the clouds. Literally one minute later we saw this:
Fogbow – I had never heard of them. Fascinating!
Not only are there lots of paths up mountains, Hawaii likes to throw in stairs, too. I guess they like to mix it up.
We made it to the summit and took in the views while walking slowly as the air was a little thin. Also, this was our moment of truth. Would we stay for the sunset? We arrived here at 4:30, over five hours since this journey began, and people were setting up chairs and blankets. We got one of the last parking places.
Japanese Quail
I think this looks like something out of a science fiction movie. It’s the Haleakala Observatories on the summit.
This picture was taken from the top of Haleakala at 4:50 PM. Doesn’t it look like we’re in an airplane? There was still more than an hour until official sunset time not including the beauty that would follow until dark. But, as had become the norm for us in Hawaii, by this time of day we were very tired. Our resort restaurant was having prime rib night. Hummmmm
The trip down the mountain would be over three hours if we waited until the sunset was over. We would be driving in the dark on roads without guardrails in traffic. We would miss prime rib and probably grab fast food. What should we do?
Prime rib? Beautiful sunset? Prime rib? Sunset?
Well, the prime rib was delicious.
The drive down the mountain was lovely. There was no traffic as everyone was heading up. We stopped and took in some great views. And, like I said the prime rib was delicious.
We drove down to this area and were blessed with more beauty and fog bows.
I was enjoying some final views near the top of the mountain when Bob started heading back to our rental jeep. It’s not exactly walking into the sunset, but it’ll do!
I’ve been meaning to tell you that I’m an athlete now.
When Bob “retired” back in July he started playing pickleball three times a week. He’d probably play more but it might interfere with his golf game or his going back to the office as a contract employee (kind of like retirement light). Bob has a lot of energy and the heat down here in Florida doesn’t keep him from playing these outdoor games.
Then there’s me. The summer sun beating down on me can almost keep me from going to the mailbox. That may be a slight exaggeration, but after sweating that 15-yard walk (x2 since I have to return) six days a week, May through October, I’m ready to take a dip in the pool. I garden on the shady side of the house only in the late afternoon or after dinner. Once when I parked far away from a store just to park in the shade, my daughter told me she thought shade was my idol. She’s not completely wrong.
But Bob wanted me to play pickleball with him, and I love that. It was so sweet of him, especially since he knows darn well that there is not an athletic bone in my body. I am competitive, so I guess he thought that might see me through. I agreed to play but insisted I’d start in November or December after the blistering heat had subsided. That would up the chance that I might like it (from 10 percent to about 30 percent). Then we all got COVID in November, so that gave me a pickleball reprieve until December.
December arrived and I couldn’t come up with more excuses, so finally Bob got me to go with him to the neighborhood courts, which was great as I didn’t have an audience. We had a couple practice sessions and then joined the regular Wednesday night group, which he had already become a part of.
Pickleball, despite its ridiculous name, has a few things going for it. It’s played with a wiffle ball, so it doesn’t hurt too much if you get hit. The court is slightly smaller than a tennis court, so less running. To me it felt like ping pong, only with large paddles and strange scoring and rules. The part of the court close to the net is called the kitchen, and you are not supposed to go in there. That was endearing.
The most surprising part of the game was that I liked it. Right away. Even though I was just learning and wasn’t good at it yet. I’ve only been playing for about six weeks, so I’m still not “good,” but I am improving. I set the bar for enjoyment pretty low, and I have leap-frogged over it. I now even suggest playing pickleball, much to Bob’s delight. We are teaching friends to play. It’s practically a miracle!
But that was before the injury. Last week I sustained a hamstring pull. Yep, I pulled a hammie! I must be an athlete! In validation of my athleticism, I would have high-fived my friend who was with me, but I could barely walk, so that will have to wait.
The irony is that I sustained this injury while bird watching. I am still in disbelief that my hobby has so cruelly turned on me. We were walking along the shores of Lake Apopka, enjoying the beautiful, cool January day, spotting alligators and birds, and wham – I nearly did a face-plant after tripping on a partially buried rock. I guess I should have stretched before doing such rigorous exercise.
It might be a couple weeks before I’m back on the court. I sure hope this doesn’t hurt my game!
American Alligator posing at Lake Apopka Wildlife DriveVarious ducks and water fowl on Lake Apopka
I have a new obsession, I mean hobby. I stumbled upon it at the Lake Apopka Wildlife Drive, my favorite local birding area, with over 367 species noted. In addition, it is chocked full of alligators. Otters, raccoons, and the occasional bobcat family reside in the area. And, rocks can be found there!
This may be surprising to you as by now you likely know that I live in Central Florida. We are not known for our rocks down here. Sand, rain, hurricanes, mosquitoes, construction on I-4 – yes. Rocks – not so much. Be that as it may, there is no denying that I collect rocks, and my favorite place to find them is the North Shore of Lake Apopka.
I’m not talking about your everyday, run-of-the-mill rocks. I also don’t care if they are igneous, sedimentary, or metamorphic, which are the three rock classifications that I may or may not have had to verify on google. I have two classifications for my rocks. Painted and not painted. For me to collect one, it must have something pretty or fun painted on it. I will also accept the occasional chunk of concrete, seashell, or wood if it’s painted.
I’m not sure exactly when the rock hiding craze started, but I know it’s in full swing. Over a year ago, as I was scrolling the Lake Apopka Wildlife Drive Facebook page, I learned of a few generous painters who would leave “Easter eggs” out there for people to find. This was going to be better than my childhood collection of bottle caps. Plus, I wouldn’t have to hide it under my bed to avoid ridicule from my siblings.
I love going to the drive and looking at the birds, especially in the winter during migration times and in the spring during nesting season. I’ve also seen river otters and marsh rabbits. Bobcats are there, too; but you couldn’t prove it by me. Summer is full of alligators (my highest one-day count is 113) and what I believe should be the Florida state bird – the Common Gallinule. They are everywhere – much more common than the Northern Mockingbird.
So even though I told myself and anyone who might ask me that I was finished going to the drive until it cools down, I was compelled to go. Because there are rocks, and they are pretty. Plus, it gives me a rush to find them, which is probably because I have no talent in that arena. I can’t draw a straight line with a ruler.
It took me a long time to find my first. I was lamenting about my lack of success to my friend, Debi. Debi is one of those people who wins contests. She offered that I could have one of hers – a magnanimous gesture which would take the fun out of it for someone as competitive as I am. And, of course, Debi had found several. Her keen eye did not surprise me, but I declined her generous offer. I must find one all by myself – like a big girl.
Last February, I found one. It was beautiful, even though it was not a depiction of nature. It was a taco. Still, I like tacos and I was thrilled to find a rock of my very own. I put my taco rock on the shelf for all to see. What an accomplishment! I was happy.
Happiness sure is fleeting. It didn’t take long for me to realize that having one lone taco rock was a lot like eating one taco, or worse yet, Chinese food; you get hungry again fast. You must have more.
Since Facebook has a page designated to the Drive, I learned about a lady named Liz who paints the coolest rocks. I marveled that people would use their talents to bless people they likely would never meet, so my fascination grew and grew. Soon rock painters/hiders were springing up on the Facebook page displaying the rocks they would be hiding. I started trying to figure out the best times to go to the drive and add to my taco rock. But my goal was to find a Liz rock.
Over the summer weeks, not every time I went but often, I found a rock or two while on the drive. (In case you’re wondering, you can get out of your car. There are pull-outs and other trails and areas to observe nature and there is signage to identify the local flora and fauna.) I have rock art by several local birding/painting enthusiasts.
I wished I could paint a rock and leave it for someone to find. My friend, Peggy, even suggested that I could. I thought Peggy knew me better! But I did want to leave something for someone – to give back a little. The only thing I have created besides my four children, who clearly wouldn’t stand for being left out on the shores of Lake Apopka, is my children’s book, ALWAYS LOOK FOR THE MAGIC. Florida is more than a little humid with chances of extreme downpours, so it was foolish to leave a book out there. I had to create a plan.
I carried a couple of my books in the car with me, but in the summer months, I barely encountered any other people much less children. Then one day I saw on Facebook that my favorite artist, Liz, was meeting another artist, Lee, at a particular time and spot on the drive. Game on!
Bob and I, along with my sister, headed out to hopefully intercept that meeting. I had three of my books with me. Everything seemed against us getting to that meeting on time. The drive-through at McDonald’s was particularly slow and I’ll admit it – I complained. I was anxious. I was ridiculous. My sweet sister mentioned that maybe the delay would work for us in God’s timing. She was right.
We pulled in just in time to find Liz and Lee. Bob slowed the car down to about 8 mph and I jumped out before Lee could leave. I was so excited to meet him and when I gave him a book, he gave me and my sister magnets that he had made from his extraordinary photographs. How fun!
Meanwhile, Bob and my sister were talking to Liz. I was so happy to meet her; and I gave her a book as well, thanking her for how giving she is and for the fun that she and others have added to an already wonderful drive. She was so sweet and then she did the unimaginable – she gave my sister and me a rock each. Well, mine was a bluebird painted on a wooden egg. I love it. My goal of having a Liz creation was met and then some!
“The bluebird carries the sky on his back.” Henry David Thoreau
Farther down the road, we met a lady named Patty, who, you guessed it, also paints rocks. I was glad I brought three books.
These two are among my favorites which were found by people who were doing the drive with me. The alligator is the rock Liz gave to my sister.
This is a sample of my collection.
I have rehidden a few and might do a few more. I hear of people re-hiding them to spread out the blessing. I told Bob that I was so happy to have a Liz rock. If I find another one, well then, I’ll have two! Sharing only goes so far!
We haven’t had rain in six weeks, so I shouldn’t have been surprised when the black racer which I was trying to chase off my pool deck with a gentle spray from my hose seemed to welcome the shower. This is the second snake in a week we’ve had stop in for a visit.
I’ve been wanting to lead a more active lifestyle, but snake wrangling was not what I had in mind. More along my speed is my offer of assistance to a momma cardinal who is nesting just outside of our pool deck. I have chased snakes away from the area, and water and stocked birdfeeders are always in our yard. This is the first time in my life I have been up close and personal with a nest; and I am rather protective, which is why I propped open the rear door of the screen enclosure to usher the aforementioned black racer to an area away from the “nursery.”
I started out referring to the snake as “he” (probably because our last four pets were males), but I’m beginning to have my doubts. She seemed reluctant to leave, so I was forced to get the broom and gently offer two incentives for departure. It was ridiculous how much resistance I got from her! It was an effort to get her past each panel of screening. Several times she coiled up and did her best impression of a cobra.
I was not deterred. I was also full-on aerobic by the time the thoughts crept into my head as to why on earth wouldn’t she want to be out of the pool screen area as much as I wanted her out! I guessed she was stubborn or stupid.
Fifteen long minutes later, she finally exited. I watched her slither along the edge of the outside of the pool screen as I reached out and closed the door behind her. She stayed right up against it all the way to the corner, made a quick right turn, continued along the screen to the back of the house, and reentered the pool enclosure.
What the what! I was sweaty and tired. She just seemed to be getting started. There was no way that I was going to play this game! And that was the point when it hit me that I might be dealing with a female. Maybe even a mama. That was also the point where I decided that Bob should meet her.
The good news here is that we had discovered the entry point. Even better, it was on the opposite side of the house from my precious cardinal nest. But of concern was the fact that she had almost disappeared in our bed of river rocks. At first, I could barely see her; then she disappeared altogether. I knew she was there though, but why was she there? Why wouldn’t she want to be outside? Was she protecting something? Should I keep her in the pool deck to protect the cardinal eggs?
The answers to these questions are:
I don’t know.
I don’t know.
I don’t know.
Bob will think I lost my mind.
Of course, by the time Bob returned from work she was nowhere to be seen. There are lots of awesome hiding places for a snake on our pool deck. Bob checked them all and then he blocked the entry point that she used to get back in. Hopefully, she’s not trapped inside now. If she is just good at hiding, she has to come out sometime! Worst case scenario, I’ll know in 43-65 days if what she’s hiding is a nest of snake eggs.
Living in Florida has changed me. There was a time when I would have moved rather than defend my home against a snake or kill a palmetto bug or get close to a frog. Well, I still have to grow into that frog thing. I know it seems unlikely, but they really do act like they are out to get me.
As far as that snake goes, I don’t think she’s out there. Really, I don’t. Nope, she’s not there. I’m sure of it.
Life on the Lighter Side 