Saturday Morning Cardoons

Bee in cardoons

 Our cardoon plant took off this year and is now about eight feet tall.  It is related to the artichoke, and grows dramatic purple flowers on top of a spiky globe.   The bees love them.  Supposedly, cardoon stalks and flowers are popular food items in the Mediterranean.     We tried the stalks and found them stringy.  Maybe we harvested too late in the year.  

Memorial Day 2012

As I've done for past Memorial Days, today's photo is of the base of the Gold Star Mothers flagpole at Victory Park which was built in remembrance of those who died in service to their county in WWII.   Today, one who remembers adorned the plaque with flowers and a United States flag.

Roses aligned in a "V" remind us that, in 1952,  the City of Pasadena dedicated all of Victory Park as “a living memorial to those who fell in World War II."

A couple of years ago, Ann Erdman did a fine piece on  the founding of Victory Park.  She tells the park's story from the end of the war to the 1952 park dedication.    Eleanor Boyd, national president of the American Gold Star Mothers, and Pasadena's Mayor, Alson Abernathy, presided over the opening festivities.

******************

Today is a day to honor those who died in service to our country.  It is a day to remember.

A Morning Bear

We were having breakfast this morning, sitting at the table right next to the screen door.   I had my back to the door and was enjoying some morning eggs and coffee, when our daughter says, "there's a bear."    My first thought was that she was kidding.  Her voice was a little too calm.  So, I took another bite of eggs.

My second thought was that it was strange for her to kid about a bear.  Why kid about that?  So, I turned around and looked outside.  There, on the other side of the screen door, not more than ten feet from us, was a young bear.

He roamed over to our chickens, which sent the birds scurrying inside their pen.   The bear sniffed around the chicken wire, pushed on it a bit, thankfully not hard enough to push it over.  Then he moved on.

The bear climbed our apricot tree.  It is not a very good shot, but I got a picture of him in the middle of the tree looking back at me.   There's not much fruit left on the tree. Most all of our apricots are eaten by kids doing exactly what the bear was doing -- climbing around the tree looking for ripe apricots.

After about ten minutes we watched the bear move on.

Signs -- Geese Crossing

About this time of year, geese have a habit of hanging around Pasadena High School.   In past years, we've seen geese resting on the median grass in front of PHS and have even seen goslings tottering up Washington Blvd. on the east side of PHS.   Last year, I did a post with photos titled The Geese of Pasadena High and this year, it looks like the geese are back again.    So much so, that someone has posted this geese crossing sign on the Sierra Madre Blvd. median in front of the school.  So, watch out for geese when you're near PHS.

Encounter with a Legend

I drove carefully down his street and pulled up beside the curb.   I turned the engine off and took in the scene. It was noisy like a barnyard.   A rooster crowed.  Chickens clucked and scurried around my car.   I watched two hens scamper across the street.  They darted into a yard where a big red rooster held forth -- posted menacingly atop a fence.   The rooster crowed some more.   An overcast sky darkened.  

I had ventured over the edge.  The northern edge that is.   I was in Altadena.

****************

"Dad, is that where we're going?"    Thinking there would be some educational or historical value to our visit, I had brought my teenage son along to share the experience.    He pointed across the street to the house with big red out in front.   The rooster crowed some more. 

"No," I said.  "He lives somewhere back here."   Both of us were relieved. 

We walked down the street toward a jungle of trees and shrubs.   The sound of birds grew louder as we approached the mass of green.   I saw a gray haired man on the sidewalk and called out, "Hi, are you Tim?"   The man shook his head and said, "No, but I can take you to him."

 The man led us down the sidewalk to the front of the jungle.    "He lives in here" the man said pointing toward the wall of green.  I looked to where the man pointed, but saw no house; only plants and birds.  Then, with his hands, the man parted two low lying branches and stepped over a short wall into the jungle. 

We followed.   Once in the jungle the light dimmed as we walked over a narrow spongy path.   Plants brushed our shoulders and trees angled overhead.  There were more chickens and more ducks and more noise.  Then geese and turkeys ran to join us, honking and gobbling.  Suddenly our narrow path became uncomfortably crowded.  We pushed forward.

At last we turned a corner into a small clearing.   A patch of sun broke through the jungle.   We had reached the house.  But, we were now closed in.   The porch was in front of us and the jungle to the back and sides.   The geese and turkeys had followed and were a in a phalanx behind us, honking and gobbling in indignant tones and blocking our exit.

"Not many people make it this far," said the man matter-of-factly.   And I do believe he was telling the truth.   

**********************************

You have to be extra ordinary, highly unusual, to become famous.  I think that goes double when you're talking about Los Angeles and especially Atladena.   The extraordinary seem drawn to these places -- like flies to light.   It takes a lot to stand out here.

But, Tim Dundon does stand out and has for a long time.  His list of monikers tell you he's no ordinary guy.  He's the Sodfather, the Guru of Doodoo, the Compost Crusader, Zeke the Sheik the Compost Freak.  Tim's got a message and he's made his point.

Tim spreads the Gospel of Compost.  He'll wax eloquently and even poetically about the wonders of compost -- how decaying foliage can be used to give life.   And he walks his talk.    His own jungle is a testament to the growing prowess of his methods.  So is the compost pile he keeps at his home.   Known as Zeke's Heap, the pile at one point reached 40 feet high and 200 feet wide.

An Altadena flag was designed bearing Tim's likeness and that of his pile. 

Many stories have been written about Tim and his work.  Daniel Chamberlain has a good one here and LA Weekly did a good piece back in 2004.   Video of Tim is plentiful too, with good stuff on YouTube here and here.   .

********************

So, there we were, our guide, my son, me and seemingly dozens of birds, all standing at Tim's door.  After some wait, we finally met Tim.   A big guy, he appeared a bit stooped over with age.  Tim's gray beard flowed down past his chest and his long gray hair was gathered behind him in a pony tail.

Considering we had arrived unannounced, Tim was as gentlemanly as could be. He spontaneously talked about the wonder of compost.  I told him we were getting our vegetable garden ready.  Tim said his magic mulch would work miracles in the garden and talked about the importance of mulching to protect the soil.  

I asked if he had compost available and he readily obliged.  He pulled an old business card and a pen out of his pocket.   On the corner of the card, he wrote my address and phone number.  He said there were others ahead of me, but that he would he would call when he was ready.    I thanked him for the visit and for the compost to come.  

Tim said that he would deliver a load of "craptonite" to our  house in about three weeks.

And, he did.

Drama in a Meadow off New York Drive

It is always fun to see deer - especially when you live in the city.   I saw these deer this afternoon at the edge of the meadow across from the old Earthlink building on New York Drive.  

There were four deer.  Two large deer and a couple of younger, smaller deer.    . 

Then I spotted another animal moving over the hillside above the meadow. . I couldn't get a great look at it.  But, it was definitely a cat. Looked like a bobcat or small mountain lion.   I saw the cat move along a stretch of chain link fence and then crouch down.     About fifty feet and a line of chain link separated the cat from the deer. 

I watched the drama play out from the street.   Would the cat go after the deer?

Then I moved in for a closer look.  Camera in hand, I very stealthily stepped over a string of wire and crept into the meadow.   With one eye I watched the animals.  With my other eye,  I tried to navigate the meadow without stepping on anything crunchy.

I made my way well into the meadow.   I still had a bead on the deer.   The cat lurked behind the deer. A hawk soared above.   Just a few more steps and I would pause for what was going to be a great picture.

Then, quail happened. 

I've seen quail in the meadow before.  They scurry around from bush to bush.  Fun to watch. Hard to follow.  Impossible (for me) to photograph.

I had taken one step too many.   A bevy of quail scattered across the ground in front of me.   I watched the birds dart through the brush.  Then, I looked up.  The deer were walking away.   I looked in vain for the cat.  It was gone.

The drama was done.  Show over.