Blue Dasher

I spotted this dragonfly among many other blue flashes darting around the pond at work yesterday.  I think it is a male blue dasher, but honestly, there are so many different kinds and colors of dragonflies, I could easily be mistaken.   

Adding to my to-do list: Dragonfly swarms.  Whoa.

P-22

Things are getting wild here in LA.  P-22, or Puma 22 has arrived.

The numerous rumors of a mountain lion living in Griffith Park have now been verified through a critter cam photo.  The 4210 acre park in the middle of the city has long been home to deer and coyotes,  and this most recent beast had to cross freeways and suburbs to arrive at its new home.  The fate of urban mountain lions makes my heart stop briefly, and despite my excitement, I fear for this one now.

"Griffith Park is so tiny, yet we have this young male mountain lion in there," Sikich (National Park Service) said. "We're really interested in how he got there, how long he will stay and, if and when he chooses to leave, how he will cross these freeways."

May I suggest another carmageddon to facilitate his migration?

Found via South Willard.

 

Mags found the attic crawlspace this morning.  Came out a little dusty.  

Dreamin'

I've had cravings lately for very particular things.  Specifically, a truck and a dog.  And a 32 hour work week. 

In this dream, I would drive around LA in my vintage Toyota 22R (1983 and blue, preferably), with my hound sticking its nose out the window.  With my spare day off, I would tool around town planting native gardens at gas stations or lunching on friends' porches while talking about nothing.  Then I'd pick up my husband and we'd go out to dinner, valet parking the truck at a fancy restaurant to the dismayed looks of the other patrons.  I'd stare them down until they backed out of my way because, much like Hush Puppy "I'm the Man!"

Or something like that.

 

Dog snout via MADDIE THE COONHOUND.  

More truck/dog dreams -->

Giant Swallowtail

This elegant creature was slowly fluttering through the yard today, lingering near the water fountain.  The giant swallowtail, or Papilio cresphontes, is the largest butterfly in the US, with a wing span that can reach 5-6 inches.  It's hard to tell just how big this one is from this photo (and please disregard my landlord's affinity for bamboo), but it was a decent size. 

More info from the very interesting Lili Singer here. 

Giant swallowtails only started showing up in southern California 10-15 years ago, and much like myself, are native to the southeastern US.

I often think about what it means to be native to somewhere.  Having grown up in several very different places, I have a hard time feeling native to anywhere.  I began my slow progression to southern California about 15 years ago as well.  In that, the giant swallowtail and I are more kindred than I immediately thought.

Sunday Blues

Some Sundays I wake up with the heavy realization that my workweek begins again tomorrow.  The logic that I still have 24 free hours doesn't seem to make much of a difference -- I feel the weight of impending obligations pile up and up.  Sometimes it hits me half-way through Sunday; sometimes it hits me on Saturday.  

I'm working on becoming more mindful of moments as they occur, and not fretting so much about what's to come.  And my work weeks aren't that bad, to be honest.  They're just... work.  Just like everyone else has.

Today I made french toast with sauteed plums that with a cup of tea and my new magazine, made for a very enjoyable brunch - blues nearly obliterated by the time my plate was empty.  It's still Sunday now as I write this, procrastinating homework and contemplating a glass of wine, and I have managed to keep the present in mind and let tomorrow worry about itself.   We'll see how it goes next weekend.