Grasshopper Plague

On midday grasshopper patrol…

Morning, noon, and evening, neither rain nor hail nor fire nor smoke can keep me from doing grasshopper patrol around the patio and through the garden. Sometimes I use the hose and sometimes I just sweep with my hands. I’m grateful I’ve managed them as well as I have, despite not starting quite early enough; now they’re big I have some strategies in mind but I was waiting for the grasshopper webinar today to decide my next step.

They’ve once again demolished all the rabbitbrush in the yarden, stripping the leaves of what little grew back on this massive bush this year, after they completely denuded it last summer, killing the lower half.

The beautiful little rose bush I nursed along and finally potted up last month was thriving on the patio table, alongside three tiny citrus trees. I checked them several times a day for the slightest sign of grasshopper predation, intending to bring them inside at the first bite.

I failed miserably with the tiny trees: one afternoon I noticed a single leaf damaged, so I set the tray near the door to bring inside—but I forgot, left it out overnight, and the rock squirrel who haunts the patio ate all three down to a toothpick. The rose continued to thrive—until yesterday. Midday it was fine. Evening rounds it was missing three-quarters of its foliage. So I whisked it inside to the sunroom table and administered first aid.

I was relieved to sit down for an hour at lunchtime, amidst heavy smoke outside, to a PPAN (People and Pollinators Action Network) zoom webinar called “Pollinators Meet Grasshopper and Mormon Cricket Management.” Sharon Selvaggio, a pesticide reduction specialist with The Xerces Society, gave a riveting presentation on the complex relationship between grasshoppers, pollinators, and ecosystem health. The Xerces Society, a conservation organization working to protect the natural world through the conservation of invertebrates, educates about the unintended consequences of widespread pesticide use.

Ever wonder why honeybee populations are in steep decline? They’re a canary in the coal mine for native bees and other pollinators like butterflies and moths. APHIS aerial spraying of pesticides to control Orthoptera (grasshoppers, crickets, and katydids) in the Midwest and western states is a contributing factor in the decline of many pollinators. Sharon leads Xerces’ work in seeking sustainable solutions for grasshopper and Mormon cricket management, especially on public lands. She offered some alternatives to pesticides for the home gardener.

Great news! Having a low tolerance for snapping their little heads off, lacking chloroform as my zoo friends use, and not (yet) interested in freezing and frying them, she gave the answer to what to do with them if I choose to pluck or vacuum them off plants in the cool hours while they’re sluggish: drop them into bucket of soapy water! (Ack. I still hate the idea of killing them. Which do I hate more? Killing insects or losing the fruits of my labors? Probably losing my garden.)

Speaking of the garden… I made the onion greens pesto finally, with the chopped greens, some parsley, garlic, lemon juice, pecans, and parmesan cheese. So simple, so delicious!

I was grateful it was cloudy and a little cooler today, so I could also make “Vichyssoise light.” I’d been putting it off because I didn’t want to heat up the house, but you can’t make cold Vichyssoise without first cooking it. I sautéed the onions in butter, added a chopped potato, chicken broth, salt and pepper, and simmered for half an hour. Then I took it off the heat and stirred in a couple tablespoons of yogurt and a big splash of milk and blended til it was smooth and creamy. By then I was too hot to eat hot soup so it went into the fridge for tomorrow. But I did lick the spoon and it’s delicious!

The wind shifted to the west this evening and blew in some fresh air. I was able to cool off outside without a mask and leave the doors open to get a cross breeze through the house for a few hours. I took the opportunity to pick the rest of the un- or less-damaged apricots and harvested more than expected. Another garden success in a scant year!

A screenshot from the Watch Duty app yesterday showing the South Rim fire perimeter, evacuation zones, and the two planes and one helicopter working it at the time. The blue dot near the top is where I live, nine miles as the crow flies from the fire. I’ve been relying on it so much in the past week that I felt compelled to pay their reasonable membership fee; getting the little purple aircraft moving in real time was an unexpected bonus.

I’m grateful for the nonprofits that make the world better, like Watch Duty, PPAN and Xerces, and for endangered government agencies, like APHIS and the National Weather Service, that use science to serve diverse human needs; and I’m grateful for the technology that puts warnings, forecasts, and other helpful data at our fingertips.

I’m grateful for the Weather Underground app, with all the bells and whistles selected: radar, cloud cover, fronts, heat, hail, severe storms… and for knowing where I stand in the midst of it all, once again that little blue dot near the top.

Holiday Weekend

Jul7

*A few chokecherry clusters are ripening.*

I’m under doctor’s orders to swim. I swam recreationally for a few years before Covid, but haven’t been back to a public pool since. I don’t like driving 45 minutes to the indoor pool, especially in winter; I don’t like getting to the community pool early enough for swim lanes in summer; I don’t like the mandatory shower before entering the pool; I don’t like what the chlorine does to my hair and my skin. But I love to feel my body glide through water. The rec center pool in Delta has the Lazy River, a rib-high sinuous flow of warm water. That’s technically what I’ve been ordered to do.

*Rocky Mountain beeplant started blooming last week and drawing in all manner of pollinators.*

So I bit the bullet and ordered a new swim suit when my Dog World sister mentioned them on deep markdown at Lands End. And the other night I ordered new swim goggles, wax ear plug discs, and a swim cap, all of which succumbed to age even as my swimming tapered off.

This afternoon as I sat under the pleasing influence of nitrous oxide in the dental chair, the dentist was chatting with the tech as she ground down my old cracked tooth. “You know Pat–gonia?” she asked. The tech murmured her answer as I pondered the question. Not that I could reply, but I thought, “I just ordered from them the other day,” because while I was at REI spending my free dividend money on swim gear, I also shopped for some sale items, including Merrell water shoes and a Patagonia jacket. I buy Patagonia whenever I can, because of their integrity.

*His Holiness celebrated his 90th birthday this weekend. Millions around the world also celebrated his birth, his life, his remarkable gifts to humanity. That was my holiday.*

Even though I thought heard “Pattie Gonia,” my first thought went to the clothing company, but in the next second she clarified to her friend “…the drag queen? I saw her in Denver.” I tipped both my thumbs up, then made the heart sign, and they laughed, so she talked about the amazing Pride show that Pattie Gonia headlined in Denver last month. I’d seen clips and pictures on Instagram.

*The resilient desert willow, who almost died of cold a few years ago, has rebounded and bears more blossoms this summer than in many years.*

I started following Pattie Gonia a few months ago when she showed up as one of National Geographic’s nine Travelers of the Year 2024. She was also named one of Outside magazine’s Outsiders of the Year in 2022, and a Time Magazine Next Gen Leader in 2023. The reason Wyn Wiley chose this name for his drag queen alter ego is self-explanatory if you know the brand. Learning that my dentist is a fan of Pattie made me all over tingle – though that might have been the nitrous.

*Fennel when it’s ready sucks in its bulb and reconstituted the energy in a central stalk that shoots up and flowers then seeds.*

My emotions have been very close to the surface this weekend. Tears spring at the least glimpse of beauty or tenderness. This is a welcome counterpoint to the simmering rage that erupts when I encounter another headline or photo, or comment from someone I know, that reflects the hypocrisy of so-called Christians celebrating the BBB that will starve children of food and education, kill thousands by making healthcare costly and/or inaccessible, pillage public lands, expedite the climate catastrophe, kidnap and imprison innocent people, and so on. I don’t claim to know the Bible like they do, those hypocritical politicians, neighbors, at least one cousin, but I do know what it says about the poor. Among a hundred other scripture quotes:

“Therefore I command you, you shall open wide your hand to your brother, to the needy and to the poor, in your land.”

Deuteronomy 15:11

So I tuned them all out this weekend, and turned my attention to the beauty, wonder, and delights of the garden. The fennel was bolting so I pulled the last four bulbs that were still solid, and left the few that were morphing to go to seed.

I couldn’t use it all at once, so I sliced the bulbs a little more thickly than I would have to use fresh, plopped them into ice trays, and froze them. That left four fennels worth of fronds to use or compost. I made a fennel fronds pesto, and froze some of that as well.

Into the food processor I put four cups of coarsely chopped fronds, the zest and juice of one lemon, four garlic cloves, olive oil, a little butter, a couple tablespoons of water — which a recipe called for but I didn’t like what it did to the consistency so I threw in an equal amount of cream cheese to add a little binding. Once that was all pretty smooth I added half a cup of pecans and pulsed a few times. I froze most of it, but kept some out.

Then I boiled some pasta, grated some parmesan, and enjoyed my lunch. One pesto recipe I looked at called for a splash of Dijon mustard, which I forgot to put in, so I added half a teaspoon when I tossed the pasta. Yum!

The next day I made sourdough pizza crust and baked two skillet pizzas. On the small one, fennel frond pesto, parmesan, Kalamata olives, and red onion; on the large one, from the freezer, roasted tomatoes with basil and garlic, grated Havarti, red onion, and chopped pancetta.

Yum! It was too hot to eat outside so I enjoyed my a few slices inside, with a delightful book that a friend passed along to me. Thanks, Chris! Later, when it cooled down a bit, I cooled off with my feet in the pond. This time, I went down and got up very carefully, properly, safely.

The babies are getting so big! Their nibbling tickles now. I thought maybe I saw a few tiny legs starting to emerge but Dr. Amphibian suggested maybe not yet. He said it could be six months before they complete metamorphosis, and that they’ll be fine overwinter in the pond whatever stage they’re in. Whew! It all depends on variable conditions, including water temperature. They change at their own pace.

*Image borrowed from Encyclopedia Britannica. The Mirador tadpoles are at the early late stage illustrated in the center.*

This evening’s sunset walk delivered the perfect cherry on top of my holiday weekend. It’s been years since I’ve seen a bull snake. This little baby startled me — we startled each other on the path, she was perfectly camouflaged, and she slid gracefully away to an ancient juniper. May you also find moments of beauty and joy in your day.

Jun25

Fledging is imminent. It could be tomorrow, or it could be another week. Research says they fledge between 18-21 days after hatching. I don’t know exactly what day they hatched, but do know the parents were flying in and out sixteen days ago. The past few days the food deliveries have been increasing, and the chicks’ cries when the parents leave are now loud and clear.

I couldn’t be more grateful to see them fly in carrying one grasshopper after another to the nest. Sometimes they fly straight in from the top of a nearby juniper, or from the tip of the patio umbrella; more often, they land on their antler perch and look around before hopping up to the nest cavity.

In the past two days their deliveries have become so frequent they occasionally overlap, meeting in the doorway as one flies in with food and the other flies out with a fecal sac. Cornell Lab of Ornithology defines this as “a clean, tough mucous membrane containing the excrement of nestling birds.” You can see mama with it below.

They move so fast I can’t see their weightless ease without the camera. Above, he floats from the nest to the perch; then gathers himself for a few breaths, and takes off. Their wing-to-body length is almost falcon like, and the long wings give them the ability to hover and dive when hunting. I can’t get enough of watching them, and will be spending every possible minute on birdwatch until the babies emerge.

I think how my mother would have loved this unexpected delight. As a bird-lover and also a painter whose favorite color was blue, she was entranced with mountain bluebirds. When she visited and saw them dancing along the fenceposts, she wanted to name my driveway Bluebird Lane. Back then, I rarely saw one in the yarden. So in an interconnected accepting sort of way, I guess I’m kind of grateful for the grasshopper plagues that have brought the bluebirds to my front door.

Wetland Creatures

Jun22

The wetland that grew around the pond over the past decade is buzzing with life. Gaillardia is blooming, drawing native bees and butterflies, like this field crescent (Phyciodes) sharing a feast with a striped sweat bee (Agapostemon).

The developing tadpoles are fascinating. They’re gaining shape and color, splashing around at the surface, and when I zoomed in on this picture they look translucent. And they seem to be sipping air – look at that little tadpole mouth!

I wish Wren had shown more caution creeping up on the garter snake; it’s perfectly harmless, but her curiosity could be dangerous with some other species.

And I wish I could end tonight’s post right there, with the simple joy of wetland creatures on a hot summer day. As I sat there this morning I remembered the phrase “all’s right with the world” with sadness. It wasn’t this morning, and it most assuredly is not this night. The madness out there just keeps escalating, accelerating. But down at the pond, absorbed in the pace of nature, there is respite for minutes at a time.

Rhubarb

Jun20

Beautiful evening light this week leading up to Summer Solstice has been enhanced, sadly, by smoke from some distant fires.

These hot days I caught a craving for popsicles, and was grateful to have a six-mold in the pantry; grateful also to have plenty of rhubarb from next door. I cooked a bunch down with sugar to make a simple compote I could freeze and use as needed, and needed some right away. I blended it with fresh strawberries and the juice of half a lemon, froze the pops overnight, and enjoyed one down by the pond the next morning. So refreshing! So simple, so delicious!

The first rhubarb treat I made a couple weeks ago was an upside down cake, which was also pretty simple and delicious. I saved a few stalks from the compote pot to bake one more of these this week.

Meanwhile, down at the pond, the Palmer’s penstemon are blooming, and Tadpole Pedicure training’s been going great!

Wren found a second garter snake, bigger than the first one, in the curly rush yesterday morning. And the first cherries have ripened on the new little tree.

I’m curious how the gazillion cherry blossoms matured into just a handful of cherries, and will be interested to see what happens next year. Maybe it was insufficient water at a crucial stage, or some other horticultural error, maybe birds were picking them off all along, or maybe it’s just the growth habit of a young sapling to thin its fruit. I shouldn’t be surprised: the apricot and peach trees both drop a lot of early fruit.

Today was so hot, and so windy, I had to stay inside from mid-morning until evening. Red flag warning all day and for the next couple, and a faint persistent haze on the horizon. ‘Fire’ shouldn’t be a season, but it is. I took the opportunity make waffles I’ve been dreaming about for weeks, a whole batch to freeze for quick toaster reheating, and three for brunch.

This Dash mini waffle iron is a delight to use, heats fast as soon as it’s plugged in, cooks a waffle in just a couple of minutes, and the light pops off when the waffle is done.

I fried some thin-sliced pancetta for a little protein to go with the extravagance of waffles topped with Greek yogurt, rhubarb compote, fresh strawberries, and maple syrup.

It seemed brunch was no sooner finished than it was time for Zoom Cooking with Amy. We made potato-onion crisps that didn’t turn out quite as crispy as I’d hoped, but were still tasty.

Thinly sliced potatoes and onions layered with grated provolone and parmesan cooked at 375F for twenty-five minutes. I tossed some pancetta on top of a few just for fun. They were very tasty, but a lot of effort for the end result.

The leftovers will be fun to play around with, though. I hope they’ll crisp a bit more with reheating. I imagine topping one with a fried egg for tomorrow’s breakfast, and they could make a base for huevos rancheros, or top a hamburger, or serve as a crouton atop a soup or salad. I think if I ever make these again I’ll use a lot less cheese. That might deliver better crunch.

Metamorphosis

Jun16

*Waking up with another brand new twenty-four hours ahead of us that will never come again.*

*Sitting down by the pond with morning coffee.*

It’s ridiculously exciting to watch metamorphosis in real time. The tadpoles are growing daily, some subtly assuming a slightly froggy shape, with proto-eyes apparent and coloring shifting from black to mottled. I couldn’t get close enough this morning. The chair was too far away, standing on the edge of the pond too far away, so I sat down on the flagstone rim and dropped my hot feet into the cool, clear, water. Grateful for the ability to do so, albeit a little awkwardly, but completely without pain or trepidation.

Here they are three weeks ago, shortly after hatching. When I first saw them all settled on the bottom of the pond I was afraid they might be dead. Turns out they just like to tuck into the muck overnight, and wake up when the sun warms the pond in the morning.

*Here my little babies are on Saturday morning, just waking up.*

Unanticipated delight: a couple of intrepid tadpoles nibbled on my dried out old hide. I couldn’t feel it, of course, but I can imagine they were gobbling up those skin flakes with their tiny teeth… A vision began to take shape, where people pay a hundred dollars to dangle their feet in the pond and let the tadpoles gently exfoliate them, just like at a ‘fish spa.’ Haha.

Imagine if all ten thousand tadpoles transform into frogs! There would be no room in the pond for me! I’m grateful to have Captain Amphibian on call to hold my hand through the suspenseful developments down at the pond. He assured me that garter snakes would show up to manage the tadpole population, and indeed, I saw the first one last evening, though it escaped my camera.

Meanwhile, in other news, I’ve harvest a few cups of snow peas this week, a fennel bulb, several hefty lettuces, and a couple of meals worth of kale. Grasshopper mitigation is holding steady for now. If only life were this simple and sweet! This is how I want to spend the days of my elder years, my evenings of writing about gratitude, joy, mindfulness. I wish I could stop this post here, with the rhubarb-strawberry-lemonade soda I made yesterday.

But I can’t. I can’t sit by and not raise my voice about the patently illegal performative cruelties this traitorous president is inflicting on people in “the land of the free.” If only his supporters could, would, see clearly that the atrocities he carries out daily will ultimately harm them as well. His latest just boggles my mind:

“Doctors at Department of Veterans Affairs (VA) hospitals nationwide could refuse to treat unmarried veterans and Democrats under new hospital guidelines imposed following an executive order by Donald Trump. The new rules, obtained by the Guardian, also apply to psychologists, dentists and a host of other occupations. They have already gone into effect in at least some VA medical centers.”

The Guardian, June 16, 2025

Let us not suffer from a failure of imagination. There’s only one reason I can imagine for this unfathomable order: He intends to split the armed services in two, into his supporters and Others, turn them against each other based on political affiliation. Your imagination can take over from there. I hope tomorrow I wake up to see that every active duty military officer is screaming from the tops of their lungs about this, as I feel like doing; that every veteran in every branch of the US Armed Forces from Army privates to Navy admirals and everyone in between can see this for what it is, a heinous wedge, and vociferously reject this decree and the megalomaniac who proclaimed it.

Butterfly Bush

Jun13

The butterfly bush was very busy today. At least one western tiger swallowtail, various bees, some white butterflies, and the prize of the day, a Weidemeyer’s Admiral.

In big wind gusts, the swallowtail and the admiral wrapped their wings around the flower wands to hold on in what looked a lot like hugs.

I think it’s a Checkered White, but I’m counting on Ms. Lepidoptera (Susan, 😉) to weigh in on this ID. Perhaps Dr. Pollinator can identify the bumblebee: there are at least three species with these similar markings and I’m no expert.

I chased the admiral round and round the butterfly bush trying to catch a full open wingspread, but it was pretty windy and I couldn’t get the right angle.

I’m grateful for this exquisite nature in my backyard. I’m grateful for Nature everywhere on this precious planet whether or not I get to experience it. I’m grateful for people who love and protect Nature, and who stand up to tyrannical warmongers who commit crimes against Nature. No Kings! Join your local rally tomorrow. Find out where at nokings.org.

Jun8

It only took a month to finally capture a western tiger swallowtail. I’ve seen one occasionally flitting about the yard but the conditions have not yet been quite right to get a picture—until today.

The wild butterfly bush (Buddleia alternifolia) burst into bloom this past week. It took a few days before its perfume began to fill the yard and draw in the swallowtail who spent most of the day feeding from its many laden branches.

I had a couple of work zooms today and couldn’t bear to do them inside, so I brought the technology outside and sat in the shade under the deck; grateful for zoom, grateful for the deck shade. And most grateful for the trust of the bluebirds. He flew in from gathering insects in the yard and perched over my shoulder on the deer skull just outside the hole in the adobe wall where they’re nesting. In a moment, she fluttered out of the hole and joined him. They both observed me carefully; then she flew away and he remained awhile. I was entranced, and I think we were all three reassured. I’m hopeful I’ll be watching when the chicks fledge.

Where’s Wren? She’s off ahead as we enjoy an evening ramble through the elegant old junipers, exemplars of resilience.

The light was a little strange as evening settled. When we reached the top of the ridge on the way home and could see the horizon through the trees there was strong haze dimming the mountains. Maybe diffuse smoke from Canadian wildfires, maybe why some of us are suffering extra allergies—we can’t bear to stay inside but the air quality isn’t as pure as it looks at high noon. But first, we watched moonrise from our new favorite sitting log in the southern woods.

Nighthawks screeked and dove overhead as we wended our way home just as the sun went down.

Even after sunset the day’s work wasn’t done. Grasshopper mitigation continues: 24 hours after neem spray the front line seems to be holding. There were just a few grasshoppers in the raised beds throughout the day. But I’m not taking chances. There were a lot of little feral lettuces in amongst the onions. To protect them, and to remove the competition from the onions, I popped them out and planted them in the new bed where I could cover them. The cover will cool them with a little shade, and keep out marauders. I hope.

I look forward to another brand new day tomorrow.

“Waking up this morning, I smile. Twenty-four brand new hours are before me. I vow to live fully in each moment and to look at all beings with eyes of compassion.”

Thich Nhat Hanh

Communication

Jun7

I spent a lot of time in the garden today, spraying vinegar on the ground to kill grass and weeds popping up through the chips we put down to mitigate grasshoppers; pulling weeds, spraying a neem/soap mix on the cabbages, onions, potatoes, carrots and more to drive grasshoppers away; and burning some scrap wood since it was finally calm enough and damp enough to not pose a wildfire risk. And I also found time to take Husband Camera for a few strolls around the yarden to capture the love between flowers and their pollinators.

The little orchard bee first caught my eye in the top picture, and as she moved down the Gaillardia blossom I saw the spider. But she did not.

I serendipitously caught the moment when the two insects communicated: as though the spider said “I am here” by gently reaching a leg toward the bee’s antenna.

Then the bee courteously said “Pardon me!” and flew back to the top of the flower. And the spider smiled her thanks with her eyes.

I’m grateful for this gorgeous day, for the communication I witnessed among many beings, for communication with several friends, for the health, energy, and stamina to spend the day working and playing in the yarden.

Morning Joy

Jun3

Perfect timing this morning making coffee. There I stood at the counter, idly looking out the window at the lilacs and noticing it’s time to cut them back, when a rustling underneath caught my attention. Then a clumsy flutter from the left and a baby scrub jay landed on the stick.

In flew mama with a grasshopper! Screaming ensued. Two more babies emerged from under the lilacs. Within ten minutes they had all flown away… but what a fun ten minutes for me.