Routines, Hornets, Flowers, and Druids
This morning I was struck by the degree to which Kef and I have fallen into a routine. Every Friday evening, we eat at Margarita City, where she orders a jalapeño margarita, and I a lover's kiss margarita (made with cranberry juice, orange, cinnamon). We always get queso, which they insist on calling cheese dip. I invariably order the same thing each time: Burrito San Jose (chicken and chorizo inside a flour tortilla, queso on top). I always sing the song, "Do You Know the Way to San Jose?" either out loud or in my head after ordering. Kef's orders vary, but usually involve beef.
On Saturdays, we go to Sushi Tei. We both order hot green tea and miso soup. I, again, consistently order the same thing: salmon katsu box with rice and a crab tempura roll. Kef always gets a spicy scallop handroll on soy paper. The other parts of her meal vary on a rotation of certain sushis and sashimis that she loves, usually involving some sort of tongue-scorching spice. She always needs more wasabi, so she takes mine, which I can't stand to have on my plate. I use regular soy sauce; she uses low sodium.
After we leave Sushi Tei, we go to Starbuck's. Kef's order: soy chai, no water, no foam, extra hot. My order: if I want something hot, caramel latte with almond milk; if cold, caramel frappuccino with almond milk and an extra shot.
Saturday evenings, I usually eat my left-over burrito.
Sundays, most times we go to Red Robin for burgers. Then to the grocery store.
Routines. Gotta have 'em (apparently).
Hornets, on the other hand, I can do without. Kef and I were standing near the deck this morning, waiting for the dogs to do what dogs do. She looked up and gasped, and called me over to look. From her manner, I figured I didn't really want to see what she was showing me. I said, "If it's wasps I'm gonna freak." Not wasps. A bona fide hornet's nest.
Now, not everyone has seen a hornet's nest. But I grew up as a hornet - a Lorenzo Hornet, to be exact. Our hornets were purple and wore boxing gloves, as most fighting hornets do. In the trophy case outside the gym, there was a huge hornet's nest. Ginormous. Much, much bigger than the one under Kef's deck. Luckily, though, the hornet's nest we found this morning seems to be about as abandoned as the one behind the glass case in Lorenzo High School. It did give me a good opportunity to examine one up-close though. I knew they had the papery look on the outside, but I had no idea that the inside pretty much resembles every wasp nest I've ever seen, but on steroids. In this nest, there is a spiral staircase of terrifying hexagonal cells where baby hornets grow up to be vicious murderers. With boxing gloves.
It was simply beautiful outside this sunny Saturday, so I spent some time photographing and learning about the flowers in Kef's yard, which are now blooming. This makes them much easier to identify on PlantNet. In addition to the bleeding heart that I already knew about, I've identified a Japanese meadowsweet (Spiraea japonica). The flowers on one were identified as a three-cornered leek, but upon further research I found that it is more likely a type of hosta (Hosta Plantaginea or Plantain Lily). The leaves weren't right for it to be a leek. The last one, I haven't nailed down exactly yet, but I believe it to be in the nettle family.
After a time, I was accosted by the sweet, miniature jackhammer sound of a house wren. I saw the wren, and looked the call up on BirdNet to make sure. This particular bird was insistent that it be accurately identified, so it repeated itself over and over. And over. According to Cornell, jackhammer isn't the most accurate description of its call... more like "long, jumbled bubbling introduced by abrupt churrs and scolds." Alrighty then. (Who is tasked with writing these descriptions of bird calls? They must have stellar imaginations.)
Back inside, I enjoyed my latest binge on Netflix, called "Legacies," about a private boarding school for witches, werewolves, and vampires. On this particular episode, a beautiful "monster" identified as a Druid came calling on the school, on a mission to retrieve an artifact that was known to be held there. She was a very sweet Druid, and really only wanted to be united with her one true love. But, alas, she was threatening the safety of the kids in the school, so the headmaster had to get rid of her. After interrogating her, he was finally able to get her to talk about who/what sent her by opening the window to allow her to feel the breeze.
Back outside to absorb more fresh air myself, I reflected on that exquisite Druid as I was watching the trees in Mason Wood sway with the wind. It was almost as if they were breathing... inhale, exhale. Mesmerizing.
Later, I googled Druids to find out more about this mythical creature and found that Druids were actually real people: ancient Celtic leaders connected with knowledge of the natural world. They frequented oak forests. They were people, not tree-people. Ah, well... our imaginations have moved on since then and Druids have now become one with the forest. If there's a Druid in Mason Wood, he/she is happy today.
On Saturdays, we go to Sushi Tei. We both order hot green tea and miso soup. I, again, consistently order the same thing: salmon katsu box with rice and a crab tempura roll. Kef always gets a spicy scallop handroll on soy paper. The other parts of her meal vary on a rotation of certain sushis and sashimis that she loves, usually involving some sort of tongue-scorching spice. She always needs more wasabi, so she takes mine, which I can't stand to have on my plate. I use regular soy sauce; she uses low sodium.
After we leave Sushi Tei, we go to Starbuck's. Kef's order: soy chai, no water, no foam, extra hot. My order: if I want something hot, caramel latte with almond milk; if cold, caramel frappuccino with almond milk and an extra shot.
Saturday evenings, I usually eat my left-over burrito.
Sundays, most times we go to Red Robin for burgers. Then to the grocery store.
Routines. Gotta have 'em (apparently).
Hornets, on the other hand, I can do without. Kef and I were standing near the deck this morning, waiting for the dogs to do what dogs do. She looked up and gasped, and called me over to look. From her manner, I figured I didn't really want to see what she was showing me. I said, "If it's wasps I'm gonna freak." Not wasps. A bona fide hornet's nest.
Now, not everyone has seen a hornet's nest. But I grew up as a hornet - a Lorenzo Hornet, to be exact. Our hornets were purple and wore boxing gloves, as most fighting hornets do. In the trophy case outside the gym, there was a huge hornet's nest. Ginormous. Much, much bigger than the one under Kef's deck. Luckily, though, the hornet's nest we found this morning seems to be about as abandoned as the one behind the glass case in Lorenzo High School. It did give me a good opportunity to examine one up-close though. I knew they had the papery look on the outside, but I had no idea that the inside pretty much resembles every wasp nest I've ever seen, but on steroids. In this nest, there is a spiral staircase of terrifying hexagonal cells where baby hornets grow up to be vicious murderers. With boxing gloves.
It was simply beautiful outside this sunny Saturday, so I spent some time photographing and learning about the flowers in Kef's yard, which are now blooming. This makes them much easier to identify on PlantNet. In addition to the bleeding heart that I already knew about, I've identified a Japanese meadowsweet (Spiraea japonica). The flowers on one were identified as a three-cornered leek, but upon further research I found that it is more likely a type of hosta (Hosta Plantaginea or Plantain Lily). The leaves weren't right for it to be a leek. The last one, I haven't nailed down exactly yet, but I believe it to be in the nettle family.
After a time, I was accosted by the sweet, miniature jackhammer sound of a house wren. I saw the wren, and looked the call up on BirdNet to make sure. This particular bird was insistent that it be accurately identified, so it repeated itself over and over. And over. According to Cornell, jackhammer isn't the most accurate description of its call... more like "long, jumbled bubbling introduced by abrupt churrs and scolds." Alrighty then. (Who is tasked with writing these descriptions of bird calls? They must have stellar imaginations.)
Back inside, I enjoyed my latest binge on Netflix, called "Legacies," about a private boarding school for witches, werewolves, and vampires. On this particular episode, a beautiful "monster" identified as a Druid came calling on the school, on a mission to retrieve an artifact that was known to be held there. She was a very sweet Druid, and really only wanted to be united with her one true love. But, alas, she was threatening the safety of the kids in the school, so the headmaster had to get rid of her. After interrogating her, he was finally able to get her to talk about who/what sent her by opening the window to allow her to feel the breeze.
Back outside to absorb more fresh air myself, I reflected on that exquisite Druid as I was watching the trees in Mason Wood sway with the wind. It was almost as if they were breathing... inhale, exhale. Mesmerizing.
Later, I googled Druids to find out more about this mythical creature and found that Druids were actually real people: ancient Celtic leaders connected with knowledge of the natural world. They frequented oak forests. They were people, not tree-people. Ah, well... our imaginations have moved on since then and Druids have now become one with the forest. If there's a Druid in Mason Wood, he/she is happy today.
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