WW: Alien technology

(So the other day I look out my back window and see what appears to be a cloud of stars on the ground beside the highway. A field glass survey establishes it as alien technology, apparently blown down the road for a considerable distance before getting wrapped around a power pole near my house.

Cognisant of my civic duty, if somewhat nervous about radiation, I climbed the bank for a closer look. And that's how I came into possession of a perfectly intact 4X8 sheet of mylar.

I immediately brought this home and smoothed it out on the floor, during which time it sparkled ardently each time it came into contact with starlight. The substance is also ethereally light, sailing around the room on no more than the draught from a partially open window – fully consistent with its interplanetary itinerary. Finally, note that the entire film was once folded to geometrically exact measure, likely to save space in the flying saucer.

I have no idea what its creators use this stuff for, though intuition suggests a possible connection with small princesses. However, in the absence of frosting or other as-yet undetected residue, we must content ourselves with storing this curious if somewhat alarming find in a sterile environment until a use for it can be determined.)

WW: Stabilising Digitalis

(Foxglove [Digitalis purpurea] is a common weed of the North Pacific slope. While non-native, and virulently poisonous if eaten, it's generally escaped the "invasive" label. I'm not entirely sure why, but it probably has much to do with the fact that it has a pronounced tendency to colonise poor, erosion-prone soil snubbed by other plants. This landslide site in the bluffs above the beach is a good example.

That, and its singular beauty, may have earned Digitalis a measure of tacit support here.)

WW: Falling apart

(Nice minus tide today, so I decided to have a good wade. I grabbed my sandals – the ones I took to the mountain, where I wore them all day, every day, under very demanding conditions. They never flinched.

Since then these Tevas have remained my mainstay… until I went to put them on this afternoon and found a sole about to fall off. Eager to catch the tide, I slapped on some duck tape and made off down the steep access to the beach.

Duck tape is a rescue product, enabling temporary fixes but not much more. Among other things, it's not impervious to water. So I didn't push it any further than my first intentions. As you can see, both tape and sandals delivered.

But I'll have to glue that sole back on. Which means it'll eventually come off again, and some time later, my prized sandals will have to be discarded. Sad it's come to this, but I can't complain about the performance. They've given undaunted service for 15 years.

Still poignant. Like the man said, all things made of parts.)

WW: Herald of summer

(Nootka rose [Rosa nutkana] heralds impending summer on the North Pacific Coast.)

WW: Aquarium Buddha

(You find the Buddha in the strangest places here in the West. Exhibit A – this disembodied head. If that's not weird enough, figure this: it's intended to be placed at the bottom of an aquarium.

Indeed. You read that right.

I looked around the pet shop a bit more, but found no heads of Christ or Ganesh or Heile Selassie. In fact, no other religious imagery at all.

Just ours.

I'm not in the least offended; it's a chunk of concrete. But mystified? Yeah. Yet again.)

WW: Catnip

(If you've been there, you know.)

WW: Dogwood signs on

(Here's another icon of North Pacific Coast spring: Cornus nuttallii, or Pacific dogwood. Along with trillium, which blows before the dogwoods do, and native rhododendron, which blooms later, it forms a triumvirate of forest blossoms widely adopted as totems in this region. [In fact, all three of these were until recently protected by law in British Columbia.])

WW: Neat sailing pram

(Encountered this remarkably serviceable dinghy moored to the seawall back under the trees. Sort of boat I grew up in, before about the age of 10. The design is classic: pram-faced, with simple, clean lines, daggerboard trunk, hole-in-the-wall mast step. All in good shape.

I don't know if this boat floated in on a storm and was tied up here so the owners might see it, or belongs to whoever lives on the bluff above, but as you can see it's been pretty neglected for some time. Shame, really; she's a fine little build, with topflight materials. You don't see many hulls equipped for serious rowing these days.)

WW: Explosive find

(This is a concretion I found on the beach after a storm. It's a sort of sedimentary rock that solidifies around a piece of metal on the ocean floor; I mostly find them encasing old hardware, tin cans, fishing equipment, and other refuse.

But here the core is a 3 to 4 inch military cartridge, evidently surplused into the sea by the local US Navy base.

Concretions are fairly soft stones, easily broken by roasting in the woodstove or rapping with a hammer.

Which is why I left this one in place.)

WW: Trillium challenge

(Trillium ovatum. Jungle flower; iconic herald of North Coast spring.)

WW: Desert snapshot

(Photo taken during my outbacking trek through the Columbia Basin last summer. Mt. Rainier in the distance.

Open link in a new tab to see it to better effect.)

WW: Classic Puget Sound house

(Another in my unintended series on endangered Old Settler houses in the district where I grew up. I've loved this one since I first rowed the lake at the age of 8. Its classic Puget Sound lines – detached garage, gable roof, dormers, shed-roofed second story, barn paint and gleaming white trim – I associated with grandparents, partly because my own raised their kids and still lived in one like it.

Lacking a boat these days – embarrassing as that is – I took this shot through the back fence; bit of a shame, really, because the view from the water, while less bucolic than it was those many years ago, is much more evocative of the prewar era in this part of the world. [See photo below, taken by a school chum from his front yard in 1965.]

A popular city park was built beside it in the 70s, and I'm told the city bought this property too when the last elderly resident moved out a few years ago. That explains the nominal effort to make the boarding-up less unsightly, but sadly, almost certainly also signals the end of this fine old example of Green Side architecture.)

WW: Sunbeam chair

WW: Late winter check-in

WW: Winter afternoon

WW: Evening spectacle

(Garlands of old man's beard [Usnea longissima], catching the winter sun at this specific moment of day.)

WW: Abandoned barn

(No stronger proof of disuse in an old barn than a rotten hay hoist. Because this tackle can easily kill people if it fails, farmers tend to obsess over its health.

This classic old red barn is part of the miraculously preserved dairy farm in my old neighbourhood. It still housed the herd, hay, milking machines, and cold storage for the milk when I was a kid. Whole district, including the pastures that used to be attached to this operation, has long since gone suburban.)

WW: Sunset on the Columbia Plateau

(Another shot from my trek through Eastern Washington last summer.)

WW: King boletes

(Boletus edulis. Part of a generous outbreak that burst up not far from my house during the record rains of last month. Some of them were the size of dinner plates. Unfortunately I neglected to get a photo of one of those, but had quite a feast on the lot notwithstanding.)

WW: Neighbourhood pond