Paul D. Natkin: February 2010

Sunday, February 28, 2010

According to page C10 Local of The Seattle Times, moonrise tonight was at 6:31 p.m. But thanks to the weather, all that's to be seen for the moment (it's about 7:30 now) is a faint streak of light--and I mean faint--a little above the eastern Horizon. I imagine the folks in Touchet are enjoying a beautiful big moon, but we'll have to wait. It was tempting to stay put at the Viewpoint and wait till the moon had risen up to a band of sky that appeared to be relatively clear. But I've waited before and been disappointed. It's sort of the same concept as the watched pot. It's like waiting for Godot. I know how it goes. Come 11:00 p.m., it'll look like there should never have been a problem. By that time, it'll be too late to get a shot of the moon together with the Viewpoint. Maybe things will work out better next month. In the meantime I have some paintings to finish.

It's full moon tonight. Judging from the mixture of clouds and clear areas, it should be a good show.

I met three guys from Germany at the Viewpoint today. They'd been to Bruce Lee's grave across the street. They sat on a bench and stared into the distance for a long time. One of them was looking at a map. I struck up a conversation with them and learned that they were from Nuremberg and that they're working on a project here. The German name for Nuremberg is Nürnberg.

Three Guys on a Bench, Feb. 28, 2010

Saturday, February 27, 2010

The skunk cabbages grow along the streams that come out of nowhere. These streams start as seeps.

Skunk Cabbage Like a Bird, Feb. 21, 2010

Friday, February 26, 2010

There's a maple tree--or maybe it's two maples--I'll have to check--that grows from just below the closed road, in the space within a hairpin curve. One trunk has a hollow in it. This tree is one of the most memorable in Interlaken Park. Licorice ferns grow from its limbs.

Tree with Hollow, Feb. 21, 2010

Thursday, February 25, 2010

A lichen:

Lichen, Feb. 21, 2010

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

When skunk cabbages first bloom, it's as if they come from nowhere. They rise up through the bluish, clayish mud and unfurl themselves in yellow perfection. As they mature, their leaves become larger and more numerous, but they continue producing "blossoms." Actually, the true flowers are on the pistil, while the yellow "petals" are, in truth, leaves.

Skunk Cabbage from the Side, Feb. 21, 2010

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

While photographing skunk cabbages in Interlaken Park the other day, I came upon this fallen tree, long dead, covered with shelf fungi.

Shelf Fungus, Feb. 21, 2010

Monday, February 22, 2010

It was cold this morning, and there was frost on the grass. But it's warmed up, and the sky is relatively clear. There is some haze on the horizon, but overhead, there are no clouds.

Yesterday I went for a walk on the closed road. From this road, which runs through the southeastern part of Interlaken Park, you can see the houses and gardens of Montlake.

Deer in the Garden, Feb. 21, 2010

Sunday, February 21, 2010

Today I discovered that the skunk cabbages are up. I knew it would be soon, but I didn't think it would be quite this soon. Everything is early this year.

Skunk Cabbage, Feb. 21, 2010

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Here's a lichen of a different variety:

Lichen on the Path, Feb. 14, 2010

Friday, February 19, 2010

Although one finds lichens throughout the parks below, there are certain areas where lichens are most abundant, and where one finds the greatest variety of lichen species. In some places, one tends to find lichens that have been flattened under the feet of joggers or the wheels of bicycles. In some ways the flattening obscures lichens unique growth patterns, since these patterns are essentially three-dimensional. However, in other ways the flattening reveals aspects of these growth patterns that might otherwise be difficult to perceive, or comprehend.

Decaying Lichen, Feb. 14, 2010

Thursday, February 18, 2010

One could easily write a book on the mosses, lichens and liverworts of Boren-Interlaken Park.

Moss, Feb. 15, 2010

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

It's been a warm, wet winter this year. I recently saw an article in the paper that told about the greater-than-average mossiness of the Olympic National Rainforest this year. I'm noticing the same in Boren-Interlaken Park.

Mossy Branches, Feb. 15, 2010

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Today was a clearer day than yesterday, although, as I recall, today wasn't completely sunny, either. I didn't make it to the Viewpoint. I was busy, and after yesterday, anything would have been a let-down. Yesterday's fog so impressed me that I didn't want to spoil my memory of it by seeing the place in different conditions.

From the Side Strip, Feb. 16, 2010

Monday, February 15, 2010

I've mentioned the lichens you often see on the paths and roads in the two parks below. There are several different species of lichen in the two-park area, and even within one species, no two lichens are alike. Each one has its own personality.

Lichen and Leaves, Feb. 15, 2010

At this time of year there's always a vertical strip of snowdrops that appears below the path, must a few feet north of the tree I call the "Sentinel." You can see this strip from the Viewpoint. It's not clear to me what would cause a plant species to grow in a long strip like this. It's Latin name is Galanthus nivalis. It's native to a large area of Europe.

Snowdrop Strip, Feb. 15, 2010

It was very foggy this morning. A few joggers came by, and a dog-walker or two. But for a good while, there was almost complete silence. All I heard was the chirping of the birds.

Foggy Morning, Feb. 15, 2010

Sunday, February 14, 2010

A woman sat for many minutes at one of the benches, every now and then apparently deciding that the light was just right and then raising her camera and pointing it, as she prepared to take a photo.

Taking a Photo, Feb. 14, 2010

Saturday, February 13, 2010

I was getting ready to head over to the Viewpoint, and then it started to rain. So I waited till later. When I finally got there, a father and son were tossing a football back and forth. It was still raining just slightly--what some call a "dry rain." A man and two women were speaking another language--some kind of Chinese, it seemed to me--and taking photos of one another with the view in the background. The man asked me if I would take a photo of the three of them. They said they were from Shanghai. They'd come to see the grave of Bruce Lee, in the cemetery across the street, but unfortunately the cemetery was already closed, since it's on winter hours right now, which means it closes at something like 4:30 p.m. I was tempted to ask these people if I could take their photo, but I don't take portrait photos at the Viewpoint. I like things to be spontaneous. So no people shots for today.

Gray Day, Feb. 13, 2010

Friday, February 12, 2010

Back on the 7th, when I got to the Viewpoint, there was a man sitting slumped under the laurel tree. He kept muttering things to himself, and every now and then he'd shout out a swear word or two or cry "YES!" as though elated. I was sure he was either drunk or crazy or both. I exchanged a couple words with him but for the most part ignored him and tended to my camera. Then he gets up from the bench and says "10-3 Colts!" I'd failed to notice the small radio he had with him.

Listening to the Super Bowl, Feb. 7, 2010

Thursday, February 11, 2010

I haven't been to the Viewpoint yet today, but I have a good mind to go there right now--as soon as I post a thing or too. I missed going yesterday, and that really got my body clock all off. I admire cats. They always seem to get enough sleep, and they look like they understand many things we don't. Sometimes they don't seem so smart, but I get the impression they have a lot figured out that we struggle to comprehend. This cat appeared, as if out of nowhere, the other day, when something a bit odd was going on.

The Cat, Feb. 7, 2010

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Again, no time to make it to the Viewpoint. I thought of it several times today, though. Something that keeps running through my mind is the winter flowering begonias that are in bloom in several gardens along the neighboring street. (Do I have the name right?) I've always found them a little improbable. I look at them and for some reason think, "Why this?" I don't mean they're a bad flower, or plant. On the contrary, they're very nice. But they somehow look like they came from far away, from someplace where there was no plan for them to end up in the Pacific Northwest, or for every fifth person to grow them in his or her rockery and admire them for the short time in early spring when they're in their prime. I'm not explaining this very well. I'll have to finish this thought another time, after further reflection.

Winter Blooming Begonia, Feb. 7, 2010

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

No time to stop at the Viewpoint today, but I drove by, and saw that it was shrouded in fog. This was quite different from yesterday, when it was relatively clear.

Snowdrops on the Edge, Feb. 8, 2010

Monday, February 8, 2010

The sky was blue above the Viewpoint this afternoon, but in the distance, there were quite a few clouds.

Stadium and Bay, Feb. 8, 2010

Sunday, February 7, 2010

According to the weather reports on the Internet and radio, and in the paper, it was supposed to be sunny this afternoon. It didn't rain all day, but as far as sun is concerned, they were quite far off the mark. Big rain clouds gathered overhead, giving the sky that strange, pearly look it does when it's about to rain. And in the distance, thinks looked quite blue.

The Bay, Feb. 7, 2010

Saturday, February 6, 2010

Sometimes it seems like the Viewpoint is a magnet, drawing people from far and wide. I often count how many people there are in a row on a bench there, the way you count birds on a telephone wire.

Four People People Looking at the View, Feb. 6, 2010

The longer I stayed at the Viewpoint, the more people I saw. One man seemed very intent on getting just the right photo of the woman he was with--with the view in the background.

Looking at the View, Feb. 6, 2010

When I got to the Viewpoint, the sun was shining, and it almost felt like spring. There were quite a few people sitting there, at the various benches, taking in the view. Someone exclaimed that it's got to be one of the most beautiful places in Seattle. I believe many people consider it the most beautiful place in the city.

Looking at the View, Feb. 6, 2010

Friday, February 5, 2010

I met a family from Wisconsin today. They'd come to the Viewpoint to look at the view. They were with their son and grandson. I got the impression that the son lives here. I could hear them asking him about the various points they saw in the distance.

Looking Towards the Bay, Feb. 5, 2010

Thursday, February 4, 2010

The mountains had more snow on them today than I'd noticed previously this year. There were a few band-like clouds in the distance, but I could see many of the mountains quite clearly.

The Bay, Feb. 4, 2010

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

It drizzled most of the day, and I never made it to the Viewpoint. I did go last night, but very late.

Monday, February 1, 2010

I never did find the full moon, or anything close to it, this time around.

Late Afternoon, Jan. 31, 2010

Paul D. Natkin