preparing for bioblitz (bioblitz part 0)

It's been sprinkling and sometimes raining off and on since Thursday. The interesting thing about that is that a lot of people around here think the rainy season ends around March 31st. I know better, because I have been noticing the weather on April 18 since 1979, and I can tell you that it rains on that day more often than not (there was at least a ten-year run where it rained on that day every time, which tells me that the day is quite comfortably within the season). This year it didn't, but it rained the next day.

Anyway, unless it's actually pouring buckets by the time I get myself together, the rain won't stop me. After all, I've sampled water there in the middle of the night in a heavy rainstorm before.

I need to find my camera, and I may actually go buy some write-in-the-rain paper. I think I will.

I'm still having a great deal of trouble with my arm. I think it's actually getting worse overall, and I think it was before I started this job -- I think ever since I started physical therapy, though it's hard to say because some things are getting better (strength, range of motion, plosture) while the pain and burning are getting worse. One thing that's definitely worse is that I can't lie down for more than two hours before I can't ignore the pain. So I guess I have to go back to the doctor and get a referral to someone who deals with necks. Will it be the same doctors Emma had for her lower back?

Phenological observations: my ceanothus has set fruit. It looks like half the foxtails (wild barley) in Lighthouse Field has turned yellow.

I don't know either, but here it comes again (bioblitz part 1)

Well, I did go out to my favorite culvert for two hours and let me tell you, this biology gig is hard. I'll be blogging properly about it later in the week, but first I want to share with you the most amazing thing there:

I really don't know what it is. Do you?


These pictures don't express the enormity of the thing. Each mature leaf is as long as I am tall.





The flower spathes are much bigger than they look here, even in the picture with my hand. They are as long as my arm.





The plant has been there for years, steadily getting bigger. I just don't know what it is or where it came from. I'm tempted to call it alien, but it has terrestrial written all over it: every aspect of the thing, except its size, is quite "normal."