What Was, What Is

May 10, 2007

Matilijas in bloom as well as Love-In-A-Mist and hundreds of roses. Really a beautiful time to reflect on the garden, if it weren't for the tall grass going to seed. And...

That two days ago I was looking out the window at this:



(photo credit: iwriteplays, see all her photos at her flickr site)

Griffith Park, the 4000-acre park that is home to the Greek Theatre, Griffith Observatory, LA Zoo, and hundreds of miles of trails, was on fire. It's less than a mile from our house and across an 8-lane freeway and the LA River, so we weren't in danger (or evacuated, like our friends in Los Feliz). But we did have a view of something we may never see face-to-face again, a raging wildfire right in our front yard.

We knew we were safe and just shook our heads as we watched the fire lick the night sky. 80-foot flames? 100-foot flames? It was hard to tell.

We were aware everyone had been evacuated from the nearby hills and hoped and prayed that it wouldn't destroy their homes. It didn't, luckily, not a one. The ancient carousel in the park was saved, though flames came within a thousand yards. Crews worked around the night to put it out, and could only say today, days later, that it is near contained.

What we are left with something that looks a bit like Mars.

The firemen have been explaining something that I've been trying to tell people since we were watching the fire that night, when you have a wild area that has not been burned for 50 years, you have a lot of raw material for fire. I hear the rangers try to tell visitors about the role of fire in management of national and state parks, but I think the image of Smokey Bear is so ingrained in our minds and the advice that Fire=Bad, we have trouble accepting it.

Fires are supposed to burn wild areas occasionally. In fact, many wildflowers and pine trees can't bloom or reproduce without the burns. We've only been creating parklands for 150 or so years, these ecosystems have developed over tens of thousands of years. Yes it's sad to think of the animals running away from the fire - but please don't try to deny that an animals life is full of predators and prey, starvation, and other hardships people in our country don't have to bear.

The park will be beautiful again. In fact, in a few weeks, we'll hike around and look with awe at the forces of nature, just like we did when the floods knocked down the great oaks, obliterating trails and ruining walking bridges.

This is our lesson, from Mother Nature herself, please don't miss it by going somewhere else.

Birds of a Feather

Phase 2: For the Birds

Doesn't it sound important when you put the "Phase" in there, like something really big is going on and you're a part of it? Doesn't always happen. In fact, in gardening, most of the time that doesn't seem to be the point.

After spending a full year revamping the garden after telling my gardener Javier we wouldn't need him anymore, we're ready to move in a few different directions. We've got a good habitat, or infrastructure, now for the animals: shrubs for cover, flowers for food, and no pesticides to spoil the treats that lay under the surface for the few skunks and raccoon we've been seeing, but I've started to think about the birds a little more lately.

Our St. Francis bird feeder (now standing more appropriately on the ground due to a broken hook) feeds the ravenous English Sparrows as well as the Mourning Doves, Scrub Jays, Mocking Birds, and recently moved in squirrel quite well. We've gone through two hummingbird feeders, the first crashing to the ground during a windstorm, refilled weekly. We could probably use two, as I've heard (and seen) these little beautiful creatures are so aggressive that any other hummingbird coming to "their" feeder better be ready for a fight. The recent turn of events is the appearance of a Hooded Oriole, as pictured above (credit, under creative commons, to bbum) feeding off the feeder. I'd seen Oriole feeders before, but we've had a hummingbird feeder for years and only within the last week have we seen one. It is really heartening to see; let's me know we're headed in the right direction.

Speaking of which, on a lark (ha! see, that was a joke) I bought a sock Finch feeder at the pet shop a couple months back and hung it on our Toyon tree. (Toyon looks very similar to holly and used to cover the entire hills around our house, which gave them their name, the Hollywood Hills.) After a full month of absolutely nothing, one Saturday the kids and I went out front and scared 5, count 'em, 5 House Finches on the sock feeding away.

They weren't very timid, either. We sat down under the feeder and they came back and started feeding again. The woman who has the garden down the street came by and Ryan had to tell her all about the birds. He's not really a shy kid, by the way.

We've been back to the pet store a few times, to fill up the sock and eventually got an actual finch feeder (a few are available, the ones from Droll Yankees are expensive, but come with a lifetime warranty, but I opted for another brand, cheaper, but made in the US as well.)

This is probably what happens to those crazy bird people, I imagine, because I've already started browsing around for birdhouses. But it's great, right? A middle-aged man without kids feeding the birds can be considered a little bit sad, but a man with kids, why he's just educating them, right?

Plus, hell, it's fun to see them out the window when you're doing the dishes.