Outside Observer

My Caladium bloomed!!!  Now, I'm under no pretenses that this matters to anyone but me, but I'm damn excited about it.  Caladiums usually live in very humid, very warm places (tropical forest).  Trying to keep them happy, no less alive, in the very dry climate of Calgary is a challenge.  The fact that this one is blooming (which I have never seen before, even in the wild), must mean I'm doing something right and it is relatively happy.  On the other hand, I have read that some plants bloom only when they are stressed: i.e. "Must.  Reproduce. Before. I.  uuuuuggghhh..." 

I hope it's the first scenario.

I kinda feel sorry for it.  It took all that energy to send up this flower, hoping to find a little love (via an intermediary insect), but it is destined to remain single.  I don't have another one (even if I did, I doubt I could get it to flower!) nor any of its necessary tropical insect pollinators living in my apartment.  (I do have another Caladium specimen at the university, but that one is destined to be sacrificed to the gods of the Modern Starch Comparative Collection very soon). I hope it knows it's attempt is appreciated by the human, who can now admire the flower.

I live about half way up a large apartment building.  Balconies are set into the building (i.e. they don't stick out), but that doesn't stop the occasional bit of trash thrown from near the top of the building from drifting and landing on my balcony, depending on wind direction.  An unfortunate but normal part of living in an apartment.  I get the usual stuff...cigarette butts, sometimes an empty cigarette pack, string, leaves and dead flowers, bottle caps, etc.  Today I stepped out to do a bit of cleaning, since it is finally getting nice, and I wanted to hang up my hammock.  Picked up the butts, the bottle caps, and EWWWWWWW!!!!!!.........

A huge toe-nail clipping sitting in the middle of the balcony floor.*

Now, cigarette butts are pretty icky, but that's just disgusting.  People, if you live in an apartment building, please refrain from performing personal hygiene on your balcony and throwing the unwanted bits of your person off into the wide blue horizon...they fall and drift, and can end up in someone else's space - someone who would rather NOT have to see that, let alone sweep it up and put it in the trash where it should have gone in the first place.

Ugh.

* by the size, obviously from a guy.

Nature is beautiful, even at the microscopic level.  This is a double starch grain I encountered today in one of my samples.  The twin grains are mirror images of each other, and fused together.  Under x-polarized light*, their symmetry is poetry.  Or an alien head.

* For more details on starch and its birefringent properties, see this earlier post.

I went birding this morning with some people from the Naturalist's group, out to the Sibbald Creek area.  It was a great trip.  Highlights included some mountain bluebirds, varied thrush, numerous red tail hawks, Clark's nutcracker, many other birds, and a young moose (!!!).  Unfortunately the moose slipped into the brush before I could grab my camera.

But perhaps the biggest treat was seeing trumpeter swans up close and personal.  The warm weather yesterday and today melted the ice and opened a couple of ponds near the Jumpingpound Creek turn-off, just off the Tran-Canada Highway west of Calgary.  These ponds are small, but famous as a stop-over for migrating trumpeter swans on their way up to their Arctic breeding grounds.  There is something that grows down in the muck of the pond that they just love.  Most of them were busy feeding, butts bobbing in the water and legs flailing around trying to get some leverage.  When they tipped back up, their heads and necks were all brown tinged with mud.  A few of them landed and their "trumpeting" was great to hear.  Trumpeters are much less common than tundra swans; the next couple weeks are about the only chance to see them around Calgary.

It was a stunningly beautiful day...sun, warm, with snow shining off the mountain peaks.  The clouds did interesting things.  It may not be completely clear in the second picture below, but the cloud front dipped and curved like a giant ribbon across the sky.  The white dots in the water below are the swans again.

Arrrrgggghhhh!

I'm really getting pissed off about automatic software updates.  I'm sure this rant has been done before, or variations thereof, numerous times.  But I just gotta let it out.

More and more it seems that as soon as I turn on my computer in the morning, ready to check numerous emails, download important documents that someone has sent me to look at, open other documents, and more or less prioritize my day, the CPU is suddenly completely preoccupied with downloading some gargantuan automatic update for some program or another.  Microsoft is usually the worst culprit.  Some super-duper important critical high alert security patch or another.  For a full 10 minutes this morning, my computer was virtually seized up as the hard-drive ground away, filing megs of info pouring in off my high-speed university LAN connection (I can't begin to imagine what it would be like for anyone with a slightly slower connection).

My gripes:

1.  First and foremost, what is it with all the damn updates?  Why can't these companies create good, secure software to begin with?  Somehow, we are being conditioned more and more to just accept frequent updates and patches as a normal part of life.  I understand that occasionally, a security issue is exposed that simply couldn't be anticipated.  But every other week?  Everyone knows this is just sloppy code writing, and rushing "new and improved" version 10-point-whatever into the market, before working out the bugs.  (Don't even get me started about Vista...).  The problem is, no one seems to care.  It has simply become an accepted business practice.

2.  Even when an update is NOT super-high-alert-critical, it is launched immediately.  Usually followed by another update a week later for the same program.  Can't these be lumped together so I only have to get an update - oh, say - once every two months or less?

3.  It used to be only one or two programs that did the automatic update thing (anti-virus programs, which is totally understandable and acceptable, and Windows, which is just a mess of a program to begin with).  Now, there are about 14 different processes or programs constantly running in the background, probably downloading updates more often than I actually ever use them...different media players, web-browsers, toolbars and widgets, etc.  I'm not technically savvy enough to know how to stop these little memory vampires.  Together, these add up to an update downloading every day.

4.  Everything has to download as soon as you turn your computer on (or connect to the internet), despite the fact that this is when you are the busiest checking email correspondence, what's shaking in your vox neighbourhood, last night's NHL scores, etc.  Can't they write a little sub-routine that makes the download wait until at least 5 minutes of inactivity have passed on the computer?  You know, when people get up to go get coffee or something?

5.  Finally, after the downloading updates have seized up your CPU and internet access for at least 10 minutes, you get the dreaded pop-up window:
"Your computer needs to restart in order to install critical updates.  Your computer will restart in 5:00 minutes, 4:59 minutes, 4:58 mintues..." 
"But I'm busy working on a document!!!  Feck off!!" 
You click cancel.  Fifteen minutes later, the same thing pops up.  Cancel.   Pop!  Cancel.  Pop! 
"FECK OFF!!!"
Finally you give in, save and close everything, and go get a coffee while the damn thing reboots, and you return to a cheerful little message that "New updates have been installed.  Click here to see these updates." Bully for you, Windows.  (Yes, I do know that you can change the settings so that it only reminds you every 4 hours instead of 15 mintues.  But you can't truly turn it off, as far as I know.)

I really, really need to learn how to use Linux.

There.  End rant.  I feel better.

Just some pictures from a quiet walk on Nose Hill after a snowfall last night.

I usually have a policy of not buying anything too heavy (well, except books) or potentially breakable when traveling.  But these were just too cute to resist...I love frogs.

I got them at the Vancouver Aquarium where there was a frog exhibit going on.  They just make me grin like an idiot.

The conference in Vancouver went extremely well.  I saw several good sessions, caught up with numerous old friends, did my presentation, bought a few books, and generally hung out with about 2500 other archaeologists for several days.  I also ate some fantastic food (albeit a bit expensive...Vancouver is NOT a cheap city!) including the requisite (but oh-so-tasty) Pacific salmon.  I did manage to take a couple afternoons off.  One I spent with friends I hadn't seen for several years and went to the Vancouver aquarium.  Out front is a sculpture by the famous Native artist Bill Reid of an orca.

I also took the opportunity to hike around Stanley Park with another friend.  I managed to get us lost (sort of), and we ended up getting soaked in a sleet shower.  But it was still fun.  I kept wondering why so many trees were down - I knew that parts of the park had been logged a long time ago, but many of the downed trees were fresh, and still just sitting there.  It wasn't until I saw a sign that I remembered the terrible wind storm that had blown through the area in December 2006.  Such huge, beautiful trees.  But that's nature, and life keeps on.

We walked around Beaver Lake, full of ducks, herons, and all sorts of other smaller song birds.  Several graciously posed for me.

I love wood ducks.  The male in all his splendor and suave hair-do.

The female is not as showy, but I think she is just as pretty, with her face markings and subtle iridescent coppery back feathers.  This female was obviously intrigued by the humanz.

A gentle moment between the pair.

Spring here wasn't quite as far along as it had been in Portland, but some things were still blooming, despite the periodic snow flurries.

The flight home was spectacular.  It left very early in the morning, so just after take-off, I had a beautiful view of sunrise on Mt. Baker, across the border in Washington state. 

I know flying is bad for the environment, but I love the opportunity to see the landscape from way up there.  I'm like a little kid with my face pressed up to the window on every flight.  (My third career choice, after archaeology and biology, probably would have been geology or geomorphology.)  Flying over the Rockie Mountains was a awe inspiring, humbling experience.  The mountains seemed close enough to touch, yet massive, monolithic, and unmovable.  This is right near the continental divide, the boundary between BC and Alberta.

On the Alberta side, the cloud ceiling thickened with the peaks of the front ranges poking through.  Like islands in a cloud sea.

A beautiful end to a fantastic trip.

Ahhh.   I needed that.  I just returned from a one week trip to the west coast, somewhere I’ve never been before.  I think I’m in love....what an amazing landscape!!  The big professional archaeology conference was in Vancouver, BC this past weekend, but before going to that, I took a detour to Portland, Oregon, to visit some friends.  I had a blast, and the weather gods smiled on me and even provided some sunny breaks (in a forecast that called for rain during my entire visit).

Flying into Portland was really neat.  As we flew down the coast (my connection had been through Vancouver), the towering pinnacles of each of the major volcanic peaks were visible jutting through the lower level clouds.  Sorry, no pictures, but it was spectacular.  Bright sun glinting off Mt. Rainier, Mt. Adams, Mt. Hood; and we flew right over the remnants of Mt. St. Helen’s which was just barely poking above the clouds.  As we banked left up the Columbia River, the clouds cleared somewhat, and I was delighted to see the green flush of spring on the fields, with splashes of pink and yellow from the cherry trees and forsythia bushes in bloom.  SPRING!

The next few days were absolutely wonderful, hanging out with my friends and going all sorts of wonderful places.  We got up bright and early (before sunrise) Saturday morning to go birding.  Crazy we may be, but it was worth it.  The mist was rising off the Columbia river, and on the opposite bank a bald eagle called to her mate near their giant nest.

We saw a river otter (my first!!) and a blue heron colony (also my first, and very, very cool).  Afterwards we went to Sauvie Island.  We drove around for a while, but were thinking about going back home because the mist was so heavy on the island.  Suddenly the mist lifted to reveal a bunch of Sandhill cranes right beside the road!  Talk about a highlight!  We watched the cranes, and also went to a wetland with hundreds of ducks, geese, swans, and even a few eagles.

When we got back to the house, the sun was still out, so we went downtown to the open-air Portland “Saturday Market” for lunch, and leisurely walked around.  I also got some tourist shots in of the cherry trees along the Willamette River – a memorial to the Japanese who were interned during WWII.

Later we drove out to the Columbia River canyon, and stopped at some great viewpoints (including the Vista House where we almost got blown away by the strong winds), and Multnomah Falls.

Sunday was a wonderful lazy day, sleeping late, watching the rain outside, colouring Easter eggs, and later in the afternoon, going to Powell’s bookstore.   An entire city block and three stories of books:  I was in heaven.   I managed to escape with only 7-8 books (mostly hard-to-find archaeology books, which helped me justify it all to myself) and my pocket a little lighter.

Monday, we drove out to the coast.  Wow.   What else is there to say?

The gray whales were migrating off the shore, and with binoculars we watched them surface and blow out mist into the cool air.  Occasionally we caught a glimpse of a back, but no one breached or showed any flukes.  Again the weather was surprisingly cooperative, and we went for a walk on the beach, and then had yummy clam chowder and fish for lunch.  We drove down the coast a bit more, watch a few more whales, and then headed back.

The next day we went the opposite direction, and went hiking in Eagle Creek canyon.  It was unbelievable.   Every few steps I would stop and do a 360 degree turn.   Stunning waterfalls crashed down the canyon walls at every bend of the path, giant cedars covered the slopes and valley bottom, moss and lichen grew on everything, tiny, fragile wildflowers bloomed on some of the steep grassy hills, and under the larger trees in the shade, ferns and mosses covered the ground, absorbing sounding and making you feel like you were walking through a hushed cathedral of nature.  As my friend commented, this was her church – I have to agree with her. Walking through that landscape was like entering the sacred and profound.  Everything was covered in life.

It was like walking through Lothlorien or Fangorn, but with evergreens instead of giant oaks.  I’m pretty sure I saw Treebeard.

Down a side trail into the canyon was this enclosed sanctuary, with a fine spray of water down the moss covered wall, sparkling in the morning sunlight, a tree covered in moss backlit, growing out of the side of the canyon, the rush of the creek, and the song of little birds everywhere.

An American dipper hunting in the water (they actually walk along the bottom of fast flowing mountain streams, hunting for insects).

Farther up the canyon narrowed and the trail was literally cut into the side of the rock.  You can just make out my friend in a blue coat standing on the trail to the left.  Not for the faint of heart, or acrophobic!! 

After a very good hike we were tired, but happy.

The next day I had to leave, reluctantly.  I hope I have the opportunity to visit Portland again!!  But my next stop was Vancouver for the conference there...  That will be in Part 2!

The mind works in mysterious ways.  I'm busy trying to write a paper for a conference on some of my results from my lab analysis of old plant bits.  One of the things I've identified are seeds from a type of Annona fruit, also called guanabana in Panama.  Guanabana is one of my favorite words of all time (in addition to being a absolutely yummy tropical fruit).  I say the word, and then usually start singing it to the tune of the Mahna Mahna song.  You know the one.

"Mahna Mahna" was one of my favorite bits that I remember from the Muppets (others include Beaker, and the Swedish Chef, of course).  Apart from being an amazing earworm (I know you are already humming it), the song is just fun, catchy, and who DOESN'T like pink, fuzzy singing cows going "do-dooo-di-do-do"?

So I was pretty amazed the other day when I googled it and found out that it was originally written by a guy named Piero Umiliani as part of a soundtrack for a Swedish softcore porn movie in 1968.

Huh.

It has been covered many, many times since.  Of course the Muppet version is still the best...

For your viewing and listening pleasure:

Now this will be stuck in your head for the next three days.  I'm just evil that way...

Off to Portland to visit a friend, and then to Vancouver for a big archaeology conference.   Stories and pictures are sure to follow.