The Inevitable Spring

The warbler
wipes its muddy feet
on plum blossoms

–Issa


(Plum Garden, Kamata, by Utagawa Hiroshige, courtesy of Rawpixel.com.)

WW: Turtle boom

(Turtles have always been rare on the North Coast. Unlike the other three reptiles that manage to survive here [this one and this one and this one], they're egg layers, and the rotting wet and lack of spring sunshine makes that problematic. So it was that I, an inveterate turtle lover, had only ever found a single one in the lake I grew up on. On summer days I used row quite a distance to see him, hauled out on his log of choice.

In the intervening years the lake got severely over-developed and the swampy shore where our lone turtle lived turned into lawn. The very log he used to bask on was ripped out of the lake. Since that time, about when I was in college, I've only seen one other turtle here, in a nearby lake just a few years ago.

Then, while walking the dog near some containment ponds last week, I encountered six (!) of them, lined up on a log beneath the first real sun we've had this year. Sadly, they were too far away for a recognisable photograph, but as I rounded the corner, I found a small one, about the size of an adult's hand, close enough for my phone to steal a shot. Still too far for positive species identification, but the Western painted turtle [Chrysemys picta bellii] being functionally our only native, this is probably that.

This must be how it feels to bag a photo of Sasquatch.

Next day, a friend posted photos of a similar line of turtles in my childhood lake, about 6 miles away. Both events have blown my mind.

It's hard not to draw the conclusion that this is yet another symptom of climate disruption. Less rainfall and elevated temperatures have almost certainly raised the turtle fertility here. I'm delighted to see them, but it's one more indication that our unique North Coast environment is rapidly disappearing.)

Appearing also on My Corner of the World.

Understanding Zen Practice

"Open during remodel."



(Photo courtesy of Amy Serin and Wikimedia Commons.)

WW: Café cats

(These are two employees of Neko, Bellingham's cat café. In this establishment, one may enjoy a variety of snacks while petting a truly bewildering array of resident cats. I captured this photo on their day off, which they take in the café's basement, where they enjoy access to sidewalk-level window lounges such as this one.

Some of these cats are professionals, but a significant number are there for the purpose of test-driving, after which the driver takes them home. A large display of photos on the wall documents dozens of former staff who thus found alternative employment as house cats. One wonders if it seems anticlimactic to be petted by just a few unchanging people every day, far from the glamour and adulation of show business.

One also wonders if their human coworkers get tired of cat house jokes.)


Appearing also on My Corner of the World.

The Infinite Monk Theorem

"An infinite number of monks,
with an infinite number of zafus,
and an infinite amount of time,
would eventually get around to meditating."

Wu Ya

(This assertion has never been formally tested, but my suspicions are the results would be similar to those of another famous thought experiment.)




(Nineteenth century Japanese drawing of a monk meditating, or maybe sleeping, courtesy of the US Library of Congress and Wikimedia Commons.)

WW: Signal the uprising!

(Narcissus garden blooms have long become wildflowers here on the North Coast, punching up in lawns and pastures, along roads, and, as here, in open forests. Most years they announce the coming of spring just days before it arrives, their bright yellow blossoms chiming like bells in the cold dark wet of late winter.

Each year I'm sceptical, and each year I'm wrong.)

Bodhisattva Day 2025

So here we are on another Bodhisattva Day. The statement has subtly become more emphatic in the current environment; even a touch confrontational, in a world where any call for steady hands is suddenly fighting words.

Perhaps that's why I chose my father's cardigan this year, though the thought only just now occurred to me.

My best to all who agree that discretion and mindfulness are the essence of morality.

Gasshō.