Sitting on my couch reading a book on Roger Williams. Heard something loud approaching overhead, walked outside to see planes flying over in tight formation. Wished I had my camera. A few minutes later they flew over again. This time I had my camera.

I used to live in a forest. Not anymore.

The view has changed a little bit.

But, I’m still taking pictures of what’s outside. It’s raining outside and this is what caught my eye in the courtyard of the Cornerstone apartment complex.

There was a bit of a commotion in the pine tree that stands right outside, just past the deck. The pine cones are starting to open, and apparently the local birds realize there are tasty treats inside.

The sun was descending in the west. The stellers jay was after a bit of dinner. I took some pictures.

More to come.

I woke up this morning and there was this beautiful web made between two small branches on the cedar tree outside. We don’t tend to have a lot of these great concentric webs around up here, and even if I don’t like spiders, I appreciate good engineering when I see it.

I got up, took a picture, then went outside to do some work. About an hour into it I looked up and there was this raven, sitting in a branch across the street. I didn’t see him land there.

As far as I could tell he was just hanging out, checking out the yards.

And these few from this last week:

We’ve been having a black-chinned hummingbird assume the feeder as his own.

He perches on a branch, watching and waiting.

I’d be bothered by his repeated attacks on every other hummingbird, except for the fact that he often starts to sing this lovely little song while he is on duty.

Well, that’s probably three exclamation points too many.

Earthquake.

I was at the dog groomers, located in the charming Willow Woods, reading a book on the history of English spelling. Sitting in the sun, near the fountain.

A big truck went by. Everything began to shake a bit, like when a big truck goes by and you’re sitting on a shaky porch. So, I didn’t notice it at first. Then I got to thinking I wasn’t sitting on a shaky porch. I was sitting on a concrete patio, on top of heavy earth. A truck shouldn’t shake that. Even a big truck.

Got to thinking maybe it was an earthquake. All while the shaking was still going on.

A few minutes later I heard the person who just walked into the dog groomer ask, “Did you feel the earthquake?”

Yep. I did. The news they turned on said it was a 5.8.

That’s respectable.

And a lot more interesting than just a truck going by.

I was sitting near the window typing, writing a bit on the Israelites in front of the Red Sea. A large form moving fast right outside caught my eye. I immediately thought raven. Quickly became clear it wasn’t a raven sitting on the nearest branch of the cedar tree. No frivolity in its eyes or mischievousness in its demeanor. It was a dead serious bird, with piercing eyes–and a piercing beak. It flew in and landed right above the bird feeder. Watching for a tasty morsel. I watched it for a moment, got up and walked upstairs to get my camera. The hawk turned and stared at me the whole way, watching me. I sat back down near the window. It looked at me with eyes of a predator–a look that is quite apparent even even if one is not the prey. It scanned the whole area with eyes much sharper than my own for a bird or a rodent. All the wee beasties had found cracks and crevices, hiding amidst the forest clutter. It flew off down the hill, due west.

A red-tailed hawk.

Watching.

It’s a thrill to find one’s own town featured in National Geographic… though maybe this isn’t the most fun reason.

We can see that Lake Arrowhead hillside, by the way, from our neighbor’s house (and from our house if there weren’t another house and trees in the way).

A bee flies.

But this isn’t a bee.

It’s a fly. A hoverfly. On my laptop.

You know what else can hover when it flies besides a hover fly? And can also sting pretty bad?

A Cobra. No, not the slithering kind. The Super kind.

An AH-1 helicopter. One after another, flying over Arrowhead.

Beneath the surface lurks tunnels and trails

Unseen by most, untraveled except by the adept

On occasion, we can see what lies beneath

When the dirt is pushed out and the hidden becomes exposed

Sometimes slow, barely revealed; sometimes fast, fully unveiled

What is beneath the surface usually only pokes its head out quickly and briefly, giving us only a glimpse

Occasionally it pauses still above, looks around, allows itself to be watched

What lies beneath the surface, in hidden tunnels and trails, might even, for a moment, look you straight in the eyes.

Spring has arrived, and that means the wee birds and beasts are quite active. Some days more than others. Last week while sitting outside there were 4 chipmunks gamboling about the yard, and the deck, and all about, chasing each other, constantly moving. They came pretty close to me without too much concern, up the stairs, behind the kayak, out on the other side.