Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!

Remember these from 1974?  First, Shenandoah Caverns in Virginia:

My two brothers and sister and me with Mom in the Shenandoah Caverns in 1974 (74_Shenandoah_Caverns)

Then later that same day, the Hogle home in New York:

My parents, paternal grandparents, brothers, sister and me visiting family in New York in 1974 (74_grandparents_NY)

34 years ago.  Just one of many memories from these past decades.

Thank you for that and so much more.

Happy Mother’s Day!

I love you!

[details for photo 1 – l to r: my sister Roni, my brother Fred, my brother Wade, me and Mom; details for photo 2 – l to r top row: my uncle Roger, my paternal grandmother (who passed away a few weeks ago), Mom, Dad and my paternal grandfather, then l to r bottom row: me, my sister Roni, my brother Wade and my brother Fred]

Turtle power

As I’ve been unable to walk at the lake these past two weekends due to a horrible backache, there’s been little opportunity for new photographs.  Nevertheless, I spent a few minutes digging through the large number of images I already have and discovered some fun items captured the morning of April 26.

Along the northeast shore of White Rock Lake runs a tiny stream that meanders through limestone and soil, amongst trees and grass, and finally dives headlong into the lake itself.  I followed that stream for some time enjoying its diverse offerings.

One thing that surprised me was the number of turtles hiding out in the various pools along the way.  They offered few opportunities for photography, however, as the banks are generally high and whatever surprise I thought I had quickly vanished each time I leaned over the edge or rounded the bend.  What I usually saw was something like this:

An unidentified turtle running away through a small stream (20080426_04792)

That rather large turtle had been sunbathing in a shallow part of the stream quite near the Bathhous Cultural Center.  The moment I popped into view, it took off at high speed.  I jogged along trying to catch up with it.  The big reptile proved elusive as it slid downhill into a deep pool of muddy water.

Even from quite a distance away and seeing nothing except this view, I recognized this large common snapping turtle (Chelydra serpentina).  It was all but a memory by the time I reached its hiding place.

On my the way back toward Sunset Bay there exists a marsh formed by one of the creeks.  I often find a variety of wildlife and plants in the area.

As I peered between the reeds and grasses and trees, I spied this red-eared slider (Trachemys scripta elegans) doing some morning stretches on a log.

A red-eared slider (Trachemys scripta elegans) sunning while stretching its back leg (20080426_04848)

That one back leg out and propped on a plant made for quite an entertaining view despite me being at a disadvantage with the sun directly in my face.

One photograph was all it took for that turtle to prove its namesake: with barely a gesture it slid off the log and vanished.  I rushed to the water’s edge and looked for it—the clear water and bright sunshine made seeing the bottom no more difficult than looking through a window.  Unfortunately, this is one that got away.

I backed up and scanned the area for more life.  Another log a bit nearer the lake held yet another surprise.

Because I had to move into a different position for a clear view, I was forced to stand in the path of the sun’s reflection and direct light.  And by reflection, I mean from the water and from the turtle’s shell.

A small red-eared slider (Trachemys scripta elegans) sunningn while resting against a much larger unidentified turtle (20080426_04836)

That’s a small red-eared slider resting on the back of one large unidentified turtle.  I’ve seen this species before, so I’m scouring my pictures to find some that will make identification easier.

Note again that morning stretches are underway.  That one leg out to its fullest extent amuses me to no end.

As I slowly approached for a better shot, the slider took its leave with an almost silent dive into the water.  I’ll point out that it did in fact slide right down off the larger turtle and down the side of the log in one swift maneuver.

That left the much darker and much larger reptile all alone, leg outstretched to catch some rays, head held up to watch me closely.

A large unidentified turtle sunning while stretching its back leg (20080426_04840)

[note that I’ve manipulated the lighting in the last two images to reduce the glare from the reflections coming from the turtles and the water]

The last summer

I intended to be gone from Dallas by now, to be relocated to the Piney Woods nearer the family farm and away from the unending stress of city life.  But things do not always work according to plan.

And I’m glad, at least for now and not for reasons kin to why I decided to move in the first place.  Those remain, still stand, continue beckoning me away.

Other motives justify this newfound contentment with being here in this place at this time.

Summer rests just around the bend.  As temperatures heat up and life bursts forth with spring’s provisions, I realize this will be my last chance to enjoy some of the marvelous beauty this area has to offer.

I noticed this very afternoon my potter wasps are back.  Between this morning and this evening, one of their kind has spent her day building a new pot on the same window screen that provided for them last year.  No trace of that creation existed in the dim rays of sunrise today, yet there it is now, whole and complete and nestled in the safety of my patio where nothing will bother it.

Seeing her hope for future generations constructed so quickly gave me pause to consider what else I will see in the coming months.

What of the cicada-killer wasps I know and love, my favorite insect whose massive colony encircles the entire southern end of my home from front door to patio?  Soon they will begin emerging from their nests, a new generation of giants thriving in short lives spent flitting about with the business of building next year’s brood.  I know of no other colony as large, and I certainly know of no such colony in East Texas where I intend to live.

What of the green anoles and Mediterranean geckos who share my home?  One predators of the light and the other hunters in the night, these creatures have enthralled and entertained me—and some have even brought me to tears.  What of their last hurrah in my presence?  Certainly I would regret leaving them behind without sharing summer’s embrace one last time.

What of the litany of life at White Rock Lake with which I commune so regularly, from birds to bushes, from insects to snakes, from trees to terrapins?  This undoubtedly represents the final season of our shared existence.  How can I not take advantage of this opportunity?

Even as today’s heat settled around me and made me realize how much I loathe this weather and the heat island effect of so much concrete, let alone the misery of so much pushing and shoving coupled with so little of the world’s true self, seeing the potter wasp’s handiwork and smelling the tropical discomfort settling in to stifle the world helped me see this as one last opportunity.  I need to take advantage of every moment offered me by this season.

To be adopted

al-Zill looking through the patio fence (20080426_05040)

After tending to the dreadful wound on his head, al-Zill showed great improvement.  The severity of his neurological damage grew less with time.

But not entirely.

Still, when he shakes his head, he becomes a marionette under the control of hands plagued with seizures; when he stretches, his body caves in to demands of the mind that make little sense in the physical world; and when he leaps and runs, flailing limbs oft times leave him a bag of bones ripe for attack.

To make matters worse, he already has adopted me.  He all but lives on my patio, taking refuge each night in the cat carrier I placed there for his protection, awaiting my arrival each afternoon and my awakening each morning so that we might visit together, leaping into my lap at every opportunity, rubbing against my face with his head, kissing me, playing with me, and otherwise being family to me.

As Mom asked the other day, how could I leave him here, leave him to life at the lake, leave him to the whims of others who might not be as caring, as loving, as understanding, as kind?

The answer: I can’t.

al-Zill making a u-turn outside the patio fence (20080426_05043)

No doubt remains in my mind as to his ultimate disposition.  He will join The Kids in due time.  Soon.

Few would take on such a responsibility.  Few would tolerate such a needful life.  Few would give to one who requires so much.

But I would.

Unbelievable luck

Yesterday evening around 8:30 PM, after deciding I was too worn out to last any longer, I decided it was time to go to bed.

So I stepped outside to retrieve the cat food on the patio.  The sun already had fallen below the horizon and dark had settled over the world.

I picked up the dish, came back inside, locked the door, walked slowly to the kitchen (for slowly is the only way I can walk at the moment), set the bowl down on the counter and immediately realized it was full of ants.

Dozens of them.  Swarming all over the cat food and the bowl, both inside and out.

Dealing with that situation is not the point.

Holding that bowl in my hand for almost a minute without a single ant climbing on me is the point.

Only one sting would have sent me to the hospital, for my allergy to ants and wasps is critically acute (and slightly less so to bees).  With dozens of ants all over the bowl, imagine what might have happened if several of them decided to attack.

Yet amazingly not one of them chose to do that.  They all stayed in and on the bowl, milling about in panic and trying to decide on the best course of action.

As soon as I put the bowl on the counter, they swarmed out of the dish like a flood.

I dealt with that and ensured none remained inside.  I dealt with the contaminated food.  I cleaned the bowl.

Then I stood there pondering how damn lucky I had been to have 30-40 ants in my hand without any of them deciding I was worth a sting…or several.

And today?  Well, let’s just say the bowl now rests on a tiny carpet of Sevin dust.  With rain in the forecast and no guarantee it would stick, I can’t yet put up that barrier around the whole patio, but I sure can make sure there’s no way to get in or on the bowl without wading through that deadly defense mechanism.

I’d rather not try my luck again.