Shake, my friend

Nearly every day Satwant, our Sikh neighbor, goes out of his way to finish up his daily stroll by cajoling a paw shake out of Casey. Believe it or not, Case has made a point of dropping everything - even putting a Frisbee toss on hold - to cater to our cul de sac elder. While Satwant's English is limited, he has mastered a heavily accented “Shake, my friend”, and our guy never disappoints.  

Ahem

Casey is adept at working a patsy with hardly any effort at all. As I was working on the computer this morning I caught this ahem moment out of the corner of my eye. I was just hoping like heck I could reach my phone for a picture before he moved.

You think he’s trying to tell me something?

Bumper crop

The pinot noir might be a finicky grape to cultivate, but our backyard variety, planted for deck shade and ignored all spring, continues to thrive.  And once this bumper crop starts to ripen our deck will become one of the most popular bird feeders in the neighborhood, after we get our cut.

Essence of Molly

Rebounding every summer at about this time in the front yard is a cluster of perennials with a bittersweet history. Clinging to life six or seven years ago in the front yard flowerbed, right about where Casey is sniffing today, was one solitary Gooseneck Loosestrife spike. By the end of the day it would be draped over the sidewalk barely holding its own.

Our first Border collie, Molly, nearly 12-years-old and riddled with rheumatoid arthritis way before her time, would approach this sad little Gooseneck, and rather than step over it or even veer left or right, she would do a little respectful stutter-step and hop over the wilting summer flower. Over time, and plenty of off-spring later, the crop of white flowers that now line the sidewalk are called Molly plants in our girl’s honor. And they seem to thrive.

Their significance and sentimental value seem to be lost on Casey. But you never know.

A must-share: Helping out a brother that gets the point(s)

How often do you get a chance to lend a helping hand to a raven? In this case this incredibly intelligent cousin of our more plentiful crows figured out all by himself that he could use a hand from a life form with opposable thumbs. Check out the Border collie in the clip on the lower right. I don’t think he/she was all that impressed with a bird that wasn’t savvy enough to stay clear of a porcupine.    

 

Vantage point

Casey, just birding in the shade. 

We wondered what he was up to, since he went outside quite a while ago. And then we found him, in the backyard with his head on a swivel watching hummingbirds flitting from feeder to Lucifer plant to feeder.

They can be entertaining, for sure.
And it’s nice to see those red sprays living up to their promise.

Anticipation

The absolute best car dog in the county couldn't stand the thought of staying home today - so what's new? We relented of course, even with temperatures climbing, but Casey and I had to wait in his mobile kennel with the windows down while Vic did the grocery store run. And all the while, if the kid’s eyes weren't glued on the Deals Only entrance anticipating “Mom's” return, they were working me for a head rub. 

Naturally he got his way, constantly maneuvering for maximum effect while lactic acid levels were red-lining in my forearm.

And while you’re at it, check out the backseat slobber residue on the window ledge. Goes with the territory.

More than meets the eye

Not exactly inauspicious, soon to be living up to its full potential, our backyard Lucifer is still an eye-catcher.

But if you look between the sprays of red, at just the right moment…

Another total package

We very rarely recommend a film, but after three days of sweltering heat – at least sweltering for Bellingham with steady highs reaching the mid-80s – we had a chance to stream Chasing Ice, a movie documenting environmental photographer James Balog’s incredible assignment for National Geographic to capture images to help tell the story of the Earth’s changing climate.

The film is a must-see, but the Academy Award-nominated song Before My Time, performed by Scarlett Johansson, is captivating still. I haven't been surprised by a voice like this since Michelle Pfeiffer in The Fabulous Baker Boys. Just listen, and while you're at it, check out the amazing photography that rolled during the credits.
  
 

Two down

There were a few ways to beat the heat today, but one of the best, at least in theory, was heading to Marine Park. After swinging by to see how the sunset show was going and maybe cool off a little, but without much of a sea breeze and a heat index in the high 70s, there wasn’t much relief.

The archived highs in Bellingham for June 30 are around 70 degrees and the forecasts are calling for no cool-off until Wednesday, with temperatures 15 degrees above normal. 



But really, how can we complain with our big city neighbors in Seattle doing a slow broil today and tomorrow, setting records in the mid-90s.

So, two down and two to go.

The power of positive thinking

With the temperatures climbing into the mid-80's, maybe today, and certainly tomorrow, I shouldn't be complaining, particularly since most of the rest of the west is setting heat records. Bellinghamsters start dropping like flies when it gets this hot though, so maybe this 2011 December photo will help a little. You know, a little escapism while we're towelling off.

An unabashed Facebook share

My patience is wearing thin with Facebook, but how can I not share this Alternative Humane Society photo post. The last Border collie in line (naturally) bears a resemblance to Casey as a pup, bringing up the rear.

Deep in thought

It’s rare that we’re in near enough proximity to a camera to catch a non-pose. Here’s 
Mr. Candid deep in thought before he notices, better yet senses the close-up,  

Listen to the quiet

Today for a change Casey and I traversed a stretch of interurban trail on the south side that slices from the outskirts of Fairhaven through forest and wetlands all the way to Bellingham Bay. What makes this route stand out is its pristine seclusion, a ready escape from any hoopla worth leaving behind. Taking it a step or two farther before heading back today we took an off trail loop that seemed so quiet we could hear the ferns breathe, with only birdsong punctuating our solitude.

Any time now

(How long could it take to pull a couple of Americanos?)

You'd think that our favorite Seattle espresso cafe, Verite's, would make an exception to its humans only patron policy, at least in Casey's case. He's such a good boy, and his folks are such regulars. But this does make for a cute photo, and he doesn't seem to mind.

Waning hours

A week before the summer solstice and we can stand on the south side at quarter to ten and actually watch the sunset. Imagine, sixteen-hour days and never enough time, even now. Delaying an afternoon stroll won’t be an option much longer.



In fact well-timed procrastination is the only reason why Casey and I get to monopolize the estuary and this flock of unfazed regulars this late in the day. So let's not rush the next equinox and enjoy this it while we can.

Morning nap

A Rufous manning up

I never thought I’d say it, that backyard hummingbird sightings are becoming passé, so I won’t…I just can’t. They are practically miraculous to watch, flitting from branch to bush to feeder, like figments of imagination in a constantly shuffling kaleidoscope of plumage. 

Look at this little guy for example, a male Rufous Hummingbird that for days couldn't muster enough courage to leave the sanctity of the sweet gum. But not today.

A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. He reached down this morning and pulled it together, just like his feisty green and orange girl friend from an earlier post. It gets easier every day. Just keep the sucrose flowing. 

   

Late blooming peonies sans ants

Well, finally, the peonies are coming into their own, and with a different twist this year -- no ants. Plenty of bumble bees, naturally, but no ants. The nectar of the buds has always been a draw for large black ants, giving rise to the old wives tale that the buds need the ants to bloom. Not so. The ants just love sweets. But this year, not so much.

Meadow on steroids

Our greenbelt escape, the closest thing to a meadow we have on the ridge, is all of sudden just bursting with living, breathing wildness, with grasses well above eye-level – mine, not Casey’s.  

And with a looming sunset it’s obvious that the kid is ready to head home, and in a constant state of mapping with every twist of trail and every new corridor of grasping fauna.