Sunday, March 30, 2014

Something New

Today's good listening is a couple of waltzes from a duet album recently released by two members of the Dardanelles, fiddler Emilia Bartellas and button accordion player Aaron Collis.

Friday, March 28, 2014

Pun and Games

From the fascinating Natural History of Bodega Head, a blog on which the pictures just seem to get better and better, some fun with close-ups of various critters. Answers are just below the photo collage, so don't scroll down until you've taken your best guess.

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Remembering

One of my friends just sent me this link to a BBC article about the 70th anniversary of the celebrated escape from Stalag Luft III. If you haven't read Paul Brickhill's The Great Escape, it's a good occasion for it now.

Sunday, March 23, 2014

I'll Get a Picture of Sasquatch Someday, Too

A week ago I went for a walk down by the American River with my camera. Truth be told, I was very much hoping to come across a Mourning Cloak or two, and to make a long story short (and to leave out snarky comments about the non-photographable Pipevine Swallowtail, of which there were ceaseless examples) I did not see any. But I did see this:
Yes, it is indeed a sort of a shrubby tree, something reasonably close to an almond, to my untrained eye, from the leaves and fruit. . .but shrubbier. At its highest point, I don't think it topped 12 feet. The interesting part about this plant, however, was a very constant noise of bees emanating from it. That is certainly not an unexpected sound this time of year, but when I looked closer, it did seem rather interesting in that the branches were full of young fruit rather than flowers, and the bees, which were restricting their range to a fairly small section on the east side, rarely, if ever, alighted on branch or fruit. Also, the bees themselves were massive, and golden, beyond the custom of any ordinary bee. There were, perhaps, only half a dozen of them, but each produced a rumbling buzz to match its size, and each was flying earnestly about as if the phrase "busy as a bee" had been based on him, and he was trying to prove it. Occasionally, the flight paths of two of these creatures would intersect, and then the rhythm of the ambient buzzing would be momentarily interrupted by something more ill-tempered as they sorted out their airspace.

Perhaps one of the best lessons one can take from a Sunday afternoon walk is to learn to be content with the wonders readily at hand. Though I wasn't far into my intended rambles, and was aiming for miles before I slept, looking back, I didn't have a good reason beyond that to leave those bees at all, and I am rather sorry I went on, though the rest of the walk was lovely. They were beautiful. ("A really big sort of carpenter bee," I guessed. "But aren't those solitary?") It would have been a worthy afternoon's work, either to have managed a good picture of one of them, at least to have given more time to figuring out exactly what they were doing, or merely to have enjoyed watching their loud, determined flying rather indefinitely. (People go whale-watching as a treat; why not bee-watching?) As it was, the only one I managed to capture on film was the one in the lower right corner of the photo below, and I left, none the wiser.
 I had a session with Google when I got home, and found several interesting things. First, you will be relieved to see, much better pictures of similar creatures, courtesy of BugGuide.net, herehere, and here. They are beautiful, aren't they? Secondly, as you may have gathered, from reading under the pictures I've linked to, they are indeed carpenter bees, Valley Carpenter Bees, or Xylocopa varipuncta, to be exact. . .and they are indeed solitary. But the examples I saw were males, hilltopping, congregating in hopes of attracting females. An interesting aside--the females (of which I saw no examples on this occasion) are quite distinct from the males.

It seemed such an unusual encounter that I was quite astounded, a day or two later to come across another two of the creatures, this time having claimed the airspace over a Citrus Heights parking-lot garden, about a yard square, as their own. Which, if you ask me, makes a pretty good case for taking bee-watching as you can get it; when is the last time you saw a whale on your way to the grocery store?

Sunday, March 2, 2014

For Your Sunday Evening Listening Pleasure

Here's a cracking set from Breabach.

Friday, February 28, 2014

The Penny Whistle

Though I've not formulated a plot to put up music-only posts for the rest of the year, I opened a book of Edward Thomas' poems last night, and the first thing my eyes lighted on--and which I found quite lovely--happened to be titled "The Penny Whistle." So here it is.

Thursday, February 27, 2014

Kids, These Days

In my brain, I have a file labled, "Fiddle Marches." I am, of course, convinced that these have a different flavour entirely from pipe marches. Not better, not worse, but just imbued with  their own distinctive appeal. One could build a case for this difference, I am sure, on fiddles having more than nine notes to choose from; that certainly allows some wider intervals than a piper can hope for, and plenty of composers take advantage of it. Another thing that stands out about fiddle marches, though, is just that there just don't appear to be so many of them when you compare their numbers with the jigs, reels, strathspeys, hornpipes, and even slow airs there are to choose from, so when you hear a good march, composed for the instrument, it tends to stand out. Or so it seems to me. One of my favourites of the type is John McCusker's "Wee Michael's March." I went to find a video of it and, to cast a bit of doubt on most everything I just said, it fits on the pipes, too. Here it is in a nice set from some young folks in the Fèis Ros program.