Nearly a month has gone by without any new posts, despite my recent statements about blogging in earnest. I'm finding that teaching writing classes not only involves lots of time grading papers but also focuses my interest on writing. I'm actually writing a lot in various journals and notebooks, but not focusing in the short run on material I want to post here. We'll see what develops. Let's just say, my cessation of blogging is not due to deterioration of my health. I might be back soon. It probably depends on how spring unfolds - wildflowers, lizards, interesting insects, etc., usually fire me up and prompt me to keep my camera batteries charged.
I have been teaching since 1965 and have recently joined the English Department as an Associate Faculty member at Feather River College. Recently taught Nature Literature in America and am currently teaching Interpersonal Communication and Basic Reading and Writing.
I've been enjoying the Oak Treehoppers in September and October for the past several years. They've always been on twigs of California Black Oak, and there are now three places I visit regularly to view them. One such place is the oaks that line my driveway. Another is an oak that hangs over the paved pathway that connects the FRC parking lot to the main classroom buildings. These cute little bugs arrive around the same time every year. Until this morning, I had never seen one in June. And the one I saw was on a blade of grass around 50 feet from the nearest oak tree. I didn't have my camera with me this morning, so I've retrieved the above photo from my files of October 4, 2014.
My second "miss" happened just a few minutes ago. I walked by the birch tree in my front yard and heard the cahttering of a Red-breasted Sapsucker. I approached slowly, and it continued to chatter and peck at bugs in the bark as I got to within 10 feet. It seemed unafraid, so I went back into the house to get my camera. When I walked out the front door, it was still there. As I raised the camera to my eye, it disappeared. As I scanned the whole trunk of the tree through my crappy 200mm lens, I couldn't see it anywhere. Then I heard a sound above me from around 100 feet away. Rat-a-tat-tat from the top of a telephone pole across the street. So, is a blurry photo better than no photo at all? Maybe not, but for me it serves as a record of an enjoyable moment. The Sapsucker probably needed a dose of creosote to wash down the bugs he got off my tree.