Walking the Dog

Heidi gives Isabel a lot of attention, and since she's been away this week I haven't wanted our poor old dog to feel neglected. Not really the kissy-huggy type, I prefer to show my affection in a different way. Every day, I have taken Isabel for a walk in a new or favorite place. 

Certainly, the weather has been a blessing for late July; yesterday it did not go above 80, and so our jaunts have been most pleasant. On Sunday we visited Green Spring Garden, a place I had never been despite the fact that it's no more than 15 minutes from our home. The former site of a family farm from 1720 to the mid-1900's, it's a lovely property tucked away right off a major road. Oh, I left the historic house for another day, but we happily explored the ponds, wooded path, gardens, and the outdoor classroom. 

On Monday our destination was Great Falls, and in addition to a nice walk, we proved that dogs can participate successfully in selfies. 

Yesterday, we were off to another favorite local spot, Roosevelt Island. Isabel has been enjoying the trails there since she was a puppy. Back then, there was a little sandy beach off the main loop trail where we used to let her swim. It's a park rule that all dogs must be on leash, but we bent it knowing that she wouldn't leave the water until we made her. Even so, we still laugh about the woman who walked by with her own dog, properly leashed. "That would be fun... if it were allowed!" she said loudly as she pulled her pet away from our criminal influence.

And today, my friend Mary was kind enough to show us Kenilworth Aquatic Gardens, another National Park Site, but one I have never visited. The three of us spent a very nice hour meandering across boardwalks and dikes, admiring all the water lilies and lotus. The neighborhood surrounding the park is kind of sketchy, but you know what? 

Isabel didn't seem to notice at all.

Carnivores, Unite!

I will say this: The dog and cat are much more interested than usual in what's going down in the kitchen this week. Coincidence? I think not.

A Walk in the Park

The weather here has been unseasonably fantastic, almost Northern Cali-like, and so I took Isabel for a little walk out at Great Falls NP today. It was more crowded than I expected for a Monday, and most of the plates in the parking lot were local, lots of folks like me taking advantage of the pretty day.

Even so, there were stretches of the River Trail where it felt like we had the place to ourselves, if you don't count all the people right across the river on the Billy Goat Trail in Maryland. Right as we were about to take the carriage road back to the parking lot, the sky darkened, and a little while later I heard fat rain drops hitting the leaves in the canopy fifty feet above my head. Only one made it through before the storm passed, though.

Up ahead on the trail a group of kids from a day camp with their counselors were coming towards us. "What a cute dog!" exclaimed a couple of 8 or 9 year old girls.

"Thanks!" I smiled.

Behind the group two stragglers trudged along complaining to the counselor who was bringing up the rear. "We never do anything at Great Falls," one whined. "It's always just walk, walk, walk!"

When the Vegan's Away...

The carnivore will play! Chicken for dinner tonight, with pork and scallops planned for the coming days. I miss my girl, but it's fun to get back basics and put some old favorites on the menu.

Grand Illusions

It's always kind of thrilling for me when I see a movie that is set in a familiar place; somehow having been in the exact same spot as the characters are makes everything more vivid. Likewise, it's cool to visit a place that I recognize from film or TV. My hometown of Washington, DC is always in a lot of shows, and lately I've seen a few things shot in Atlanta, where my sister lives.

When we were in San Francisco, our plan to visit Lombard Street was actually foiled by a movie production. It turned out to be San Andreas, a disaster film starring Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson, something I probably never would have gone to see, but I might now. On the plane on the way home, I read something about the new Planet of the Apes movie, and it reminded me that not only is it set in San Francisco, but there's a large part of the story that takes place in Muir's Woods, which we also visited.

As a rule, Heidi will not go to see any movie where animals are in danger or distress, so we hadn't seen either of the films in this reboot of the classic series. (As an aside, she doesn't have any trouble with seeing the likes of Charlton Heston mistreated.) Heidi stayed in California for a conference, though, and so one of the things I decided to do on my own this week is to catch up with Caesar and his crew.

I watched Rise of Planet of the Apes this morning, and wow! That was the jackpot for a setting junkie like me. Isn't that the boardwalk at Muir's Woods? Look there's a Bay City Trolley! And I could barely even follow the action of the climactic battle, because it took place right on the section of the Golden Gate Bridge that I had walked on just three short days ago.

Movies can be deceptive, though; it's their nature. A quick search on the internet revealed that most of the movie was actually filmed in Vancouver, and that big scene at the end? Green screens on a sound stage. So, I'm a little deflated, but... I'm definitely in for Dawn of Planet of the Apes! Did you see those previews? They are all over Market Street, and this time? The redwoods are real.

Dear Brutus

Of the "geo" studies, I guess I find geography the more accessible. Once, when I was in college, I caught a ride from upstate New York down to Washington with a couple of geology majors. Oy! You should have heard those guys all the way down I-81 through Pennsylvania where the road has been blasted out of the Appalachian Mountains. It was like they were speaking a different language; they were all Shawgunk this, and orogeny that. I still have no idea what they were saying.

Even so, when I was flying across the country this week, certain geographical features made me curious about the geological forces that formed them. The plains are so flat; the Badlands so sculpted; some rivers are super bendy; some mountains look sheer and stony, but others look folded and crinkly. What makes them that way? If only geologists spoke my language, or I theirs.

I understand how the mountains of Maine were carved by glaciers, but San Francisco and Marin County are hills and mountains that seem to rise directly out of the sea, a phenomena that couldn't be more different than the wide beaches and wetlands we have here on the east coast. After spending a couple of days in northern California, it occurred to me to look it up, and I found that I actually do know how they were formed.

Sometime between 24 and 34 million years ago two tectonic plates collided and pushed those mountains right up. That plate boundary is still there today; we know it as the San Andreas Fault.

Perhaps there's hope for me, yet.

In the Desert

I've written before about what an inveterate window-looker I am on airplanes. Just this week, I've had the chance to spend over 11 hours with my nose smashed up against the double-paned plexiglass as I flew cross country not once, but twice.

On shorter flights, it's relatively easy to figure out where you might be, but that's not always the case once you get over a couple of hours. Throw in some cloud cover and you've got nothing more than educated guess about what that landscape below might be. When I was a kid, the pilot was always very informative, often pointing out landmarks below as we flew past them. I saw the Grand Canyon from the air long before I ever peeked over its rim in person, and I knew it was the Grand Canyon, because the pilot told me, dammit.

In later years, I was fascinated by those flat screens in economy class that traced our route across the Atlantic, but that was in back in the day when everyone had to watch the same movie when you flew, and then only if you rented the headset. These days, many planes have wifi, and with internet access you can track your flight on your phone. That was not the case with either of the 737s that I flew on this time. It was all up to me to reckon our location.

In general, I think I did a pretty good job, using the huge, obvious things to guide me. We didn't fly over the Grand Canyon, but I could see the Rockies and the Great Salt Lake. On the way out there, I also saw something really strange in the Nevada desert.

It was like this giant circle made of concentric rings with an opening in the middle that had some kind of tower or structure in the center. It was so odd that I took a few pictures of it with my phone so that I could identify it later.

Today I was planning to listen to some podcasts I as we flew. I had Wait Wait Don't Tell Me, some Slate Gabfests, and This American Life, and about an hour and a half in, I decided to catch up on the Writer's Almanac for today. Just as Garrison Keillor said, It was on this day in 1847 that the Mormon leader Brigham Young led his people into the Valley of the Great Salt Lake, I looked out my window, and there it was, the Great Salt Lake!

I gasped as Keillor continued, He was leading a group of Mormons from Illinois to find a new settlement in the West where they might not be bothered. Brigham Young had gotten sick during the journey and was being carried prostrate in a wagon. But when they reached the edge of the Valley of the Great Salt Lake, the wagon stopped as it came to a natural lookout point. According to legend, Brigham Young was able to describe the scene below without looking. Then he sat up and looked out at the valley and said, "This is the right place. Drive on."

To be honest, from my point of view, the place did not look that welcoming, but it was really cool to be able to make that judgment in person.

Following that amazing coincidence, I turned to the latest issue of Saveur Magazine that I had also downloaded before my trip. I was swiping through, reading with interest a tale of Swedish midsummer celebration and the story of a woman who lives on an island in the Penobscot Bay during the summer, when the next image I saw was...

concentric circles in the desert!

It was an article about the Burning Man Festival.

According to their website: Once a year, tens of thousands of participants gather in Nevada's Black Rock Desert to create Black Rock City, dedicated to community, art, self-expression, and self-reliance. They depart one week later, having left no trace whatsoever. 

Question? Answered!