My Monday dare…is not a dare at all. It’s about remembering something in the past. But there must be a PROOF. I browsed through my pictures and I saw this one. This was taken last June when we climbed a mountain to plant trees. It was part of our annual Tree- Growing Festival.
It was so tiring to climb but when I saw this view, I was stunned. I felt like I could jump off the mountain and be caught in the clouds that looked like white cotton candies. I loved this view. And I will totally relive this moment if I can. But since I can’t, I think I will just be joining the next Tree- Growing festival next June.

When I first found out I was going to San Antonio, my friend told me that there are 2 things worth seeing there: the Alamo and the Riverwalk. For sure, she was right about the Riverwalk because it was absolutely beautiful. It’s amazing to think you can be surrounded by so much nature when you’re smack in the middle of a city. It’s even more awesome that all the buildings along the Riverwalk really do utilize that to their advantage and it almost seems that there are two floors/levels to the city.

A beautiful riverwalk photo adventure:

Who has allowed these concrete dangers in our park for kids to play on?? Let me explain why I get so concerned with these playgrounds. I have owned and work in many Preschools, Daycares, and Out of School care facilities. Not one of these places allowed concrete anything, except driveways for riding bicycles. If we had a concrete structure, we would be asked to remove the object or close down our business. That makes sense, concrete falls and head injuries are dangerous. So why, in a public park and beach, can these playgrounds be allowed for any child supervised or not, to play freely on the concrete structures and that’s ok? I have no idea.

I used to be an adventurous young girl, when I was a child. Climbing up the giant red concrete octopus on Gyro beach; in flip flops and almost wiping out, trying to get down the slippery sandy bone -crushing concrete octopus arm! I never knocked out any teeth but I had to hold on tight, like my life depended on it. It was scary and fun for me. I did see someone a few years ago smack hard, their face on the concrete octopus and there was a lot of blood mess everywhere. It was awful to watch. Sad that a structure that is supposed to be fun, is not safe and only encourages injury in children’s play. How can this be allowed?

Gyro beach used to have a massive slide I would say 15 feet high. It wasn’t safe and guess what… It got taken down recently by the city; for the dangerous structure it encouraged others to be daredevils on it. So if the slide goes, why not the concrete outdoor structures too?

I went for my 240th day walk today and I was again surprised that the beach playground is still filled up by concrete sea creatures. Why are they still here, I asked myself?

I walked past all the concrete structures but one was missing. To my surprise, there was a plastic tent housing the massive concrete Cadborosaurous. I ran over to an opening to take a peek at what was going on under the construction tent. I was sad to see, the Cadborosaurous structure was not green anymore. Also it was not in great shape. It’s face and lip cracked from sanding and the whole body looked grey and old. All the paint was blasted off and my emotions were speechless. I once touched that green object and now even my finger prints and my memories were blasted away to dust. Concrete dust on the beach!!

I felt so disappointed that all my memories felt washed away. Perhaps why this giant concrete structure is still here, because it holds History and memories for all of us Victorians and tourists. Perhaps that’s why these dangerous objects are getting facelifts and paint jobs. To restore the fun and excitement in all of us and to make Gyro beach feel like a happy beach, for children to play at forever.

I couldn’t leave the beach till I got one last memory of the grey large cracking Cadborosaurous. I got out my camera and took a photo. Even though I felt this structure is dangerous, I can’t wait to see the final stage of the new paint job. Until then, I’ll look back on the “new” grey Cadborosaurous I once knew, and wonder how much longer, everyone will get to enjoy this concrete art display at Gyro beach.

I thought about how much concrete it would take to build the Gyro Cadborosaurous. I think that the amount would be so expensive that the city must love this Caddy pal soooooooo much; to even think about repairing the long green giant on the beach. If only all the children were allowed to paint some art work on the Cadborosaurous to make it come back to life in colorful patterns, the city would save on painting costs.

Green, grey, whatever color the Gyro Cadborosaurous will be painted, I do know one thing is for sure….. It’ll be fun to play on it again, even if I am an adult now. I’ll have some fun on the beach with my kids and perhaps practice my sliding down concrete tricks again. This time I might wear my helmet and elbow pads!! Or better yet, I’ll just have fun, by snapping some photos of my children, making memories with their new friend, concrete dinosaur. It’s only concrete, not to worry, right? Somehow I, like many other parents; have taught ourselves to believe its ok to play on concrete structures. As long as no one gets hurt, it’s all fun on the beach.

I prefer sand pails and shovels any day to concrete toys. Sometimes at Gyro beach, we make exceptions and live on the wild side of play; just to make memories. Life is all about adventure, and so is the playground. Right?

I will admit, it is fun to have a challenge, even if that means; taking risks and not getting eaten by the concrete Cadborosaurous, while playing!

sun hidden behind the clouds

The day, when I felt like liberated from a cage
And realised my freedom to wander and wince
I was freed to stare at the girls of my age
I have gladly forgotten you, since,
The day when I truly felt like never before
Hovering the autumn nights not less like a prince
Dreamed a princess glitter garland that she wore
I have never remembered you, since.

It’s been so long since I recalled your face
Long hair that shone moonlight like a stream
Your oozing smile that was so full of grace
And the way you soothed when I’d scream

I’ve forgotten your voice that’d light up my phone
As my mind wished it to go with the wind
Only to get staggered at times hearing some tone
Exactly the way you poked me from behind!
Only when your favourite music in the radio is played
Or some Malati’s scent comes floating in the wind
Or a snap of our good old days is flashed
For a second, your face flashes through my mind!

Only when I wake up midnight or lie on some seashore
Or in lone nights feel some dimming hum of bee
I feel like you are humming some song like before
And the voice is fading far, far away from me!

(Email: bhaskarblogs@gmail.com, Twitter: bhaskarjsharma)

This is  just another example of how those who wish to believe that global climate change isn’t happening will keep being proven WRONG. Even the Obama Administration is on board, creating a bold new program to address climate change and its inevitable effects on wildlife. In fact, they’ve been documenting how it’s already happening. Although this article is a few months old, I think it’s still really important to share here.

From the LA Times:

WASHINGTON, March 27, 2013 — The Obama administration Tuesday announced a nationwide plan to help wildlife adapt to threats from climate change.

Developed along with state and tribal authorities, the strategy seeks to preserve species as global warming alters their historical habitats and, in many cases, forces them to migrate across state and tribal borders.

By MICHAEL WINES

Published: May 19, 2013

HASKELL COUNTY, Kan. — Forty-nine years ago, Ashley Yost’s grandfather sank a well deep into a half-mile square of rich Kansas farmland. He struck an artery of water so prodigious that he could pump 1,600 gallons to the surface every minute.

Last year, Mr. Yost was coaxing just 300 gallons from the earth, and pumping up sand in order to do it. By harvest time, the grit had robbed him of $20,000 worth of pumps and any hope of returning to the bumper harvests of years past.

“That’s prime land,” he said not long ago, gesturing from his pickup at the stubby remains of last year’s crop. “I’ve raised 294 bushels of corn an acre there before, with water and the Lord’s help.” Now, he said, “it’s over.”

The land, known as Section 35, sits atop the High Plains Aquifer, a waterlogged jumble of sand, clay and gravel that begins beneath Wyoming and South Dakota and stretches clear to the Texas Panhandle. The aquifer’s northern reaches still hold enough water in many places to last hundreds of years. But as one heads south, it is increasingly tapped out, drained by ever more intensive farming and, lately, by drought.

Vast stretches of Texas farmland lying over the aquifer no longer support irrigation. In west-central Kansas, up to a fifth of the irrigated farmland along a 100-mile swath of the aquifer has already gone dry. In many other places, there no longer is enough water to supply farmers’ peak needs during Kansas’ scorching summers.

And when the groundwater runs out, it is gone for good. Refilling the aquifer would require hundreds, if not thousands, of years of rains.

This is in many ways a slow-motion crisis — decades in the making, imminent for some, years or decades away for others, hitting one farm but leaving an adjacent one untouched. But across the rolling plains and tarmac-flat farmland near the Kansas-Colorado border, the effects of depletion are evident everywhere. Highway bridges span arid stream beds. Most of the creeks and rivers that once veined the land have dried up as 60 years of pumping have pulled groundwater levels down by scores and even hundreds of feet.

On some farms, big center-pivot irrigators — the spindly rigs that create the emerald circles of cropland familiar to anyone flying over the region — now are watering only a half-circle. On others, they sit idle altogether.

Two years of extreme drought, during which farmers relied almost completely on groundwater, have brought the seriousness of the problem home. In 2011 and 2012, the Kansas Geological Survey reports, the average water level in the state’s portion of the aquifer dropped 4.25 feet — nearly a third of the total decline since 1996.

And that is merely the average. “I know my staff went out and re-measured a couple of wells because they couldn’t believe it,” said Lane Letourneau, a manager at the State Agriculture Department’s water resources division. “There was a 30-foot decline.”

Kansas agriculture will survive the slow draining of the aquifer — even now, less than a fifth of the state’s farmland is irrigated in any given year — but the economic impact nevertheless will be outsized. In the last federal agriculture census of Kansas, in 2007, an average acre of irrigated land produced nearly twice as many bushels of corn, two-thirds more soybeans and three-fifths more wheat than did dry land.

Farmers will take a hit as well. Raising crops without irrigation is far cheaper, but yields are far lower. Drought is a constant threat: the last two dry-land harvests were all but wiped out by poor rains.

In the end, most farmers will adapt to farming without water, said Bill Golden, an agriculture economist at Kansas State University. “The revenue losses are there,” he said. “But they’re not as tremendously significant as one might think.”

Some already are. A few miles west of Mr. Yost’s farm, Nathan Kells cut back on irrigation when his wells began faltering in the last decade, and shifted his focus to raising dairy heifers — 9,000 on that farm, and thousands more elsewhere. At about 12 gallons a day for a single cow, Mr. Kells can sustain his herd with less water than it takes to grow a single circle of corn.

“The water’s going to flow to where it’s most valuable, whether it be industry or cities or feed yards,” he said. “We said, ‘What’s the higher use of the water?’ and decided that it was the heifer operation.”

The problem, others say, is that when irrigation ends, so do the jobs and added income that sustain rural communities.

“Looking at areas of Texas where the groundwater has really dropped, those towns are just a shell of what they once were,” said Jim Butler, a hydrogeologist and senior scientist at the Kansas Geological Survey.

The villain in this story is in fact the farmers’ savior: the center-pivot irrigator, a quarter- or half-mile of pipe that traces a watery circle around a point in the middle of a field. The center pivots helped start a revolution that raised farming from hardscrabble work to a profitable business.

Since the pivots’ debut some six decades ago, the amount of irrigated cropland in Kansas has grown to nearly three million acres, from a mere 250,000 in 1950. But the pivot irrigators’ thirst for water — hundreds and sometimes thousands of gallons a minute — has sent much of the aquifer on a relentless decline. And while the big pivots have become much more efficient, a University of California study earlier this year concluded that Kansas farmers were using some of their water savings to expand irrigation or grow thirstier crops, not to reduce consumption.

A shift to growing corn, a much thirstier crop than most, has only worsened matters. Driven by demand, speculation and a government mandate to produce biofuels, the price of corn has tripled since 2002, and Kansas farmers have responded by increasing the acreage of irrigated cornfields by nearly a fifth.

At an average 14 inches per acre in a growing season, a corn crop soaks up groundwater like a sponge — in 2010, the State Agriculture Department said, enough to fill a space a mile square and nearly 2,100 feet high.

Sorghum, or milo, gets by on a third less water, Kansas State University researchers say — and it, too, is in demand by biofuel makers. As Kansas’ wells peter out, more farmers are switching to growing milo on dry land or with a comparative sprinkle of irrigation water.

But as long as there is enough water, most farmers will favor corn. “The issue that often drives this is economics,” said David W. Hyndman, who heads Michigan State University’s geological sciences department. “And as long as you’ve got corn that’s $7, then a lot of choices get made on that.”

Of the 800 acres that Ashley Yost farmed last year in Haskell County, about 70 percent was planted in corn, including roughly 125 acres in Section 35. Haskell County’s feedlots — the county is home to 415,000 head of cattle — and ethanol plants in nearby Liberal and Garden City have driven up the price of corn handsomely, he said.

But this year he will grow milo in that section, and hope that by ratcheting down the speed of his pump, he will draw less sand, even if that means less water, too. The economics of irrigation, he said, almost dictate it.

“You’ve got $20,000 of underground pipe,” he said. “You’ve got a $10,000 gas line. You’ve got a $10,000 irrigation motor. You’ve got an $89,000 pivot. And you’re going to let it sit there and rot?

“If you can pump 150 gallons, that’s 150 gallons Mother Nature is not giving us. And if you can keep a milo crop alive, you’re going to do it.”

Mr. Yost’s neighbors have met the prospect of dwindling water in starkly different ways. A brother is farming on pivot half-circles. A brother-in-law moved most of his operations to Iowa. Another farmer is suing his neighbors, accusing them of poaching water from his slice of the aquifer.

A fourth grows corn with an underground irrigation system that does not match the yields of water-wasting center-pivot rigs, but is far thriftier in terms of water use and operating costs.

For his part, Mr. Yost continues to pump. But he also allowed that the day may come when sustaining what is left of the aquifer is preferable to pumping as much as possible.

Sitting in his Ford pickup next to Section 35, he unfolded a sheet of white paper that tracked the decline of his grandfather’s well: from 1,600 gallons a minute in 1964, to 1,200 in 1975, to 750 in 1976.

When the well slumped to 500 gallons in 1991, the Yosts capped it and drilled another nearby. Its output sank, too, from 1,352 gallons to 300 today.

This year, Mr. Yost spent more than $15,000 to drill four test wells in Section 35. The best of them produced 195 gallons a minute — a warning, he said, that looking further for an isolated pocket of water would be costly and probably futile.

“We’re on the last kick,” he said. “The bulk water is gone.”

Lack of Water Has Lasting Effects in Kansas and Texas 

No importa lo bajo que caigas… siempre hay una escalera para volver a subir.. y una luz al final del tunel

Scenic Lookout Along Arthur’s Pass. Rock Shelter and Waterfall Shute Above The Road.

The last time I ended the blog post  with a dip in the hot springs. I won’t end this post with more pictures though we  did  find more hot springs  about two weeks later.Man did we put some miles on the camper van before then. Here’s a story of some of them  while we ride the ferry back to Wellington.

We got lucky when we managed to pass the Church of the Good Shepherd during the day. We’d thought we’d passed it in the dark on the way to Lake Tekapo. Actually, we passed it on the way out of town. This small church erected in 1935 was intended to show the glory of God and as a memorial to the pioneers of Mackenzie County. Quite beautiful, eh?

Church of the Good Shepherd

This statue, a tribute to the working dog, stands near the church.

Next stop was Christchurch, known by the abbreviation ChCh. We stayed with this lovely women who first really tuned us into how bad the earthquake three years ago really was. She has several people camped in her yard in caravans as it’s really hard for single people to find affordable housing still. As well, the goat Crystal is also a refugee. Maureen adopted the Angora goat as a kid when her original owners had to move after the quake.

Maureen & Crystal

Further exploration of ChCh led us to a new friend I had  originally met in Auckland; and her partner. Unfortunately they were both in various stages of recovery from a respiratory bug. I think that actually works as a metaphor for Christchurch as well. It’s in recovery. Streets have changed or been blocked off, buildings await either demolition or reformation, and the people here endure. We didn’t do much here due to bad weather, difficulties traversing the streets and a sick day. We did manage to drive out to Summit Hill though and took a look at Godly Head Reserve. Beautiful up there, but we needed to move on.

Many Buildings Still Await Repairs

Marc surprised me wanting to do the other two passes but I’m glad he did. We headed towards Arthur’s pass first and stopped at Castle Hill. Part of Narnia was filmed here among these limestone rocks. It was like an amazing adult playground to us. We tramped around and through the stones for a while taking amazing pictures and marveling at the weird shapes. Almost hard to believe this wasn’t made by Hollywood.We loved it.

Can You See Me?

Further up the pass the same day Marc spotted some Keas! They were hanging out by Deaths Corner and as we were quick to discover, skilled at shaking down tourists for treats. As soon as I opened the door I had four of ‘em hop/running towards me. They really liked grapes but didn’t know what to do with the rye crisps. This belies the whole “Polly want a cracker” thing. These alpine parrots want grapes, though pineapple isn’t rejected either as we found out later. They were awesome!

Hey! We got a live one here!

The Otira Viaduct at Arthur’s Pass. Opened in 1999, this was built to replace a stretch of unstable ground. An amazing engineering feat.

We plugged in at the Otira Hotel that night. Marc remembered them from a Google Earth search he had done back in the states and shared with me. We had marveled at how anyone could live here with so little around. It was a wild night, the wind whipping through the pass and the occasional train passing down the tracks. Like so many places we’ve passed, the hotel is for sale, though I think it takes a special breed to run a hotel in the winter when the tourist trade winds down. Lonely there.

We ended up going back to Deaths Corner to try to find the Keas again. They were out doing Kea things so instead Marc risked his life above the viaduct. It was another windy day and he had just bought a new cap at the Otira hotel which the wind whipped away fifteen minutes later. Luckily he managed to retrieve it without becoming a casualty himself.

On a rescue mission.

In all this we  didn’t manage another tramp until the Devils Punchbowl outside of Arthur’s Pass. The tramp itself isn’t too far, but as it’s to a waterfall there are a bunch of steps before you get to the viewing platform. It was great though. Lush greenery, with snow-capped mountain peaks in the distance and hanging moss on the trees. Reminded me of a rainforest. We climbed past the platform and while I stayed a bit further away from the bowl, Marc climbed right down to it for some incredible pictures.

On the track to the falls.

View From The Platform

Can you see Marc?

The same day we tramped a bit of Scotts Track which is across the way from Devils Punchbowl. This track was really cool and if you do it all, it takes you all the way up to Avalanche Peake. After the morning tramp though, we didn’t feel the need for a further four hours of climbing. We were happy  to  climb for another hour or so until we could see the town of Arthur’s Pass below us and across from us Devils Punchbowl falls and a little further distant; Bridal Veil Falls. The track was all exposed rock and gravel and it seemed to almost be almost dry stream bed. Really cool.

Scotts Track. The beginning.

Looking down on the village of Arthur’s Pass.

I’m gonna close this with a few more pictures of the Keas. We did get to see the crew one more time and  in sunlight no less. We’re back on the north island now and waiting on the Indonesian Embassy for our  next visas. It’s supposed to rain most of the rest of this week so hopefully I can catch you up on Lewis Pass to Kaikoura fairly soon. In the meantime…….. Keas!

None of this has worked.

The latest tactic is to add 5 inch nails to the top of the pillar in an attempt to stop him perching. I am not convinced this will be successful as he has shown himself to be agile enough to climb the cipressa to get on top of the pillar from the hillside below.

We think the culprit is a stone marten. At least, we spotted one last summer halfway up our fig tree beside the terrace, and the photo of stone marten poo in our mammals book is similar to our evidence.

Watch this space.

[photo: http://www.lost-in-france.com

The Green Field

Polaroid photography 2012 London, UK

My host father (in beige) and his bird posse.

This bird reunion is an event held by my host father, which attracts a lot of men from my neighborhood to bring their birds and their cages and hang them in this bamboo contraption my host father had built in the front of the house (a few meters from my window.)

These birds literally hang out together.

it’s a strange, but entertaining event to witness. Indonesian bring their birds and their cages, let them get some new air and show them off to their friends, while smoking, drinking coffee and hanging out together. Nicole, a PCV in my area, pointed out that this arisan burung is the equivalent of a dog park in the United States – and she’s right. So perhaps…it’s not that strange after all?

This may not be that weird, when compared to a dog park, but it’s still HILARIOUS to watch. (Yet, I’d enjoy it more if it started later in the morning!)

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The weather seems to be emulating my emotions tonight

The skys tears mirror my own with beams of bursting sorrow

I pray for sunshine to brighten the day and ease my pain tomorrow

The low growls of pain shake the earths foundation

My pain remains in a state of quiet desolation

The tears fall heavy fall from the sky but now my face stays dry

For I am no longer alone in the wake of my tearless eye

You’ve returned but the night still mourns

And to me the thunder continues to warn

That this short lived pleasure is not meant to be mine

What am I looking for?

An elegant bird that is often mistaken for its cousin the Chiffchaff (and vice-versa), the Willow Warbler enjoys family life in open areas of woodland across the British Isles and into Europe, settling down anywhere that has a good population of birch, alder and (unsurprisingly) willow trees in the warmer months of the year.

Photo source: NI Birds

Dress sense?

Beautifully styled in mossy grey-green, the Willow Warbler is a dab hand at applying its own eyeliner (technically called a supercillium) in a soft smudgy line above the eye. Adult Willow Warblers favour a more subtle approach to their clothing, opting for a pale tone whereas the youngsters prefer a louder, brighter, yellow hue.

Photo source: Bill’s Birding

Musical taste?

The Willow Warbler has a very distinctive song: a wonderful tune that descends in pitch with three short stops. It calls out with a two-tone hoo-weet, not to be confused with the more monosyllabic hweet given by the Chiffchaff.

Photo source: RSPB Community Forums

Where do they come from?

Willow Warblers are summer visitors, and can be spotted in the UK any time between April and September, although they also breed across the entirety of Northern Europe, all the way up towards Siberia. Strongly migratory, these birds spend the winter warming themselves under the sub-Saharan African sun.

Photo source: Thames Valley Birds

What about dinner?

Their main food source is spiders and insects. Willow Warblers like to show off by catching their dinner in flight, but they also hop around on the ground under the cover of trees, picking up tasty snacks. They have a particular penchant for aphids. In autumn, they turn their attention towards berries and fruit.

Photo source: Bird Watching Lancashire

Homely habits?

The nest of the Willow Warbler is constructed using wood, moss and grass, and is built on the ground, well-hidden amongst woodland vegetation. To keep things cosy, the inside is lined with soft feathers and spongy roots which also ensures the safety of the eggs. Mrs Willow Warbler incubates by herself.

Once the eggs hatch, Mr Willow Warbler is good at sharing the parenting and helps his lady provide food for the little ones.

Photo source: South Notts Ringing Group

Best place to spot?

Willow Warblers don’t much care for the buffet provided on bird tables, so it would be unusual to see one in the garden. The only exception to this rule is shortly after the birds arrive in the UK at the start of spring or before they leave for Africa in autumn. In between these times, the best bet is to take your binoculars out into open woodland and listen for the Willow Warbler’s unique song.

Photo source: Adventures in Mothland

I write the Birdgeeking for Girls series to encourage support for the RSPB, a charity established to protect both the native bird species of the United Kingdom and those further afield. Founded in 1889 to campaign against the Victorian fashion of bird plumes worn on women’s hats, the charity has since worked tirelessly to give nature a voice and educate people on the plight of some of our best-loved feathered friends.

Other than being a member I am in no way affiliated with the RSPB, but I use this weekly post to remind people to delight in how wonderful our birds are, and to consider desperately sad it would be if they were no longer around for us to look at and enjoy.

A short walk from the entrance, and we reach the gateway to the house, a classic French chateau. Chanticleer means the rooster in French, and this Chanticleer is the first of many  to welcome us. He stands on cock-a-doodle tiptoe! (These magnificent rose-like flowers are tree peonies, which we are lucky to see during their brief blooming.)

Does the chateau seem so formal and elegant that it tell us to “keep off”? Think again:

They knew we were coming, and they’ve prepared these inviting blue chairs for us to sit in and rest a while  —

(Rest up, but quickly: soon we’ll be setting off on our exploration.)