White-crowned sparrow

There's a cat under there!

I thought I saw a puddy-tat! I did see a puddy-tat.


The white-crowned sparrow male emitted a sharp call over and over as he perched on the top of a corn stalk.  I couldn’t figure out what was disturbing him, although my neighbor was cutting his grass, so I though that might be it.  These sparrows spend a lot of time on the ground, so I though they might have been disturbed when the mower started.  I crept closer and closer with my camera, taking photo after photo of him.  I finally took one step too close and he flew away.

As I stood their watching him fly into a nearby tree, a tiger-striped neighbor’s cat with a fat face, strolled out from the corn row.  Then I knew what had disturbed my feathered friend!


American goldfinch in Healdsburg backyard.  Copyright Ann Carranza, October 2009

Rain-battered plants, finches, feeders, and other stuff.

Not so happy hummer in the rain. Copyright Ann Carranza, October 2009

Today’s air wafts the softness of the after-rain. The world is washed clean and every parched plant and tree has been replenished with streams of quenching water.  While the tomatillo, tomato, and squash plants are a little worse for wear in their shaggy autumn wardrobes, the Swiss chard has taken on a new life.  Even the corn has perked up and stands proudly at attention.

This afternoon I picked and I planted.  We ate today’s bounty for dinner—a skillet vegetable sauté smothered in cheese—rich and satisfying, and fresh, fresh, fresh.  I planted garlic and tomorrow I will plant onions.  It’s like putting the cloves and seeds down for a winter’s nap, albeit one that includes growth and harvest in June.

The wasps, bees, and butterflies still flit through the garden and dance in the flowers.  I hung the bags of Niger seed for the finches and was rewarded with a dozen tweeting birdies in the neighbor’s tree.  It took them just an hour to come back to feed.  The white-crowned sparrows have been amazingly active since the rain and the towhees are back.  I hadn’t seen the towhees for a long while, but there are four of them in the yard now.  They aren’t very afraid of me and I like it like that.  A week or so ago the titmice came back!  Tiny treasures that make me laugh with their silly antics.  I haven’t seen them this week, though.  I also captured with my lens an unhappy hummer just sitting on a branch in the rain. I got the feeling she likes the sun better.

The blasted scrub jays keep pecking at the house trying to hide acorns.  Although they make me worry about roof damage, they are still funny with their aggressive antics.  I was drying pumpkin seeds on the patio, and one adventuresome scrub jay tried to bend the metal mesh of the drier so he could eat the seeds.  He didn’t succeed but it wasn’t for lack of trying.  From the sound of his calls and fight with the wire, he apparently had a low frustration level.

The Southern California alligator lizard left an intact skin for us in the yard.  Leonel brought it in and I put it in a bowl on the table.  When Conor (7) saw it, he ran screaming through the house, excited with the discovery.  It’s amazing what enthusiasm and excitement nature brings to our lives.

Smell the air. Eat your veggies. Slow down and breathe deeply.

Reaping and sowing

Pumpkin_09.29.09_














We’re, of course because we’re in California, still reaping the vegetable and fruit harvest of the season, as we ready to plant for the fall/winter/spring harvests.  We have tens of pounds of tomatoes still to pick, pasilla and serrano chiles, bountiful bell peppers, copious cucumbers and squash.  We also still have fruitful figs on the tree from the second crop.  We also have one pretty pumpkin.  One.  What’s up with that?

I’ve developed a few new recipes, most notably one with squash, chiles, tomatoes, onions, sautéed and served with corn tortillas and Greek yogurt.  It is such a wonderful dish, a blend of cool and hot flavors that both perk and soothe the taste buds.  Next time I make it, I’ll write down the proportions and post it here.  There cannot be too many summer squash recipes.

We’re getting ready to plant.  Our plans include garlic and onions, to be planted into a raised bed that was a former horse trough that we have repurposed.  It doesn’t make a good summer bed as it gets too hot, but it makes a fabulous winter bed and it nurtured my first garlic crop that I harvested in June.

In the East beds, we are going to plant broccoli, cauliflower, bok choi, recreate another bed of Swiss chard (it stopped growing in the asparagus bed, so I assume they do not make good companions), and cabbage. We will pick our first asparagus early in the spring—we are so excited.  A two-year wait has only whetted our appetites  for this early vegetable. Our tiny lemon tree has four lemons on it, so we will harvest them sometime this winter.  That will be enough variety for us.  We made plans to put another two long raised beds to the south of the house, to raise more winter veggies, but economic woes dispelled that notion for this fall.  We’ll get there—albeit slowly.

We are in the process of making two raised beds to plant two sets of three trees—a mini citrus grove, and an apple, plum, pear grouping.  This will probably come to fruition during the winter months.

Vaya con Dios, Carlotta; Bienvenidos Facundo.

Carlotta's egg sac.  Copyright Ann Carranza, September 2009



Well, Carlotta was (yes, was) female.  She placed her egg sac on the cactus pad and, after attaching it with the fine filaments of her silk, she left.  We haven’t found her body and we haven’t found her.  Further reading indicates that her life’s work is done after reproduction, and that her time here has ended.  I’m sad, though it’s nature’s way and everything has its season.  Now we await spring and the hatching of Carlotta’s progeny.

On a happy note, Facundo Chulo is back.  He’s moving through the garden at this very moment feeding upon the insect visitors.  I tottered through the corn, beans, and squash, and over tomatillos to take photos of his princely self.

He makes me smile, not the least because Leonel was contentedly gathering tomatillos when Facundo Chulo leaped through the plants and made Leonel jump, too.  Leonel smiles when he talks to our resident bullfrog as he works in the garden.

Take time to appreciate the small “stuff”—birds, butterflies, bullfrogs.  You’ll be glad you did.


Portrait of a frog prince.  Copyright Ann Carranza, September 2009