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.
Of the photos I took last week around Quincy, I picked the most colorful, or dramatic in other ways, for the first couple of posts. As I go through the photos this morning, deleting some, editing others, I come to ones that represent less noticeable but equally beautiful aspects of our natural environment - or, I should say, relatively natural. The above example is Gilson Creek, crossing the dirt road just before joining Spanish Creek. This is a rich biological area around a half mile beyond the northern end of Oakland Camp. I don't think there's any snow remaining on the south-facing slopes of Mt. Hough, the source of this creek, so the flow should decrease rapidly in the next couple of weeks and the wildflower display should increase. I'm going to check on the area again this afternoon.
Here's an overview (above) of the place off Chandler Road where I got all those close-ups of Stream Orchid that I posted during the past week. As you can see from this shot, the stem and leaves of the orchid blend in well with the surrounding grasses, rushes, and sedges, so the orchids are easy to miss. Perhaps a key to their survival.
I was lucky to spot this shed Dragonfly skin. Still clinging to the grass as if alive, it reminds me of a time several years ago when I was with a group of my students, and we got to see the whole process of the Dragonfly nymph slowly crawling out of the water, waiting a few moments to begin to dry out and crack, and the adult Dragonfly emerge with its wings tightly crumpled blobs that were hardly flight-worthy. We then watched for at least 10 minutes as each heartbeat pumped a little blood into the wings and they gradually reached full extension. The insect then stayed still another five or more minutes until the sun dried the wings and the Dragonfly took of on its maiden voyage. What a thrill, not only to watch nature in action, but to see my students sit still in wonderment for all of a half hour, with not a cell phone in sight.