My eyes are bloodshot from reading, reading, reading. I hardly knew where to begin writing this evening, so I ended up doing a general introduction to what will become a series of articles regarding how the central San Joaquin Valley water distribution system developed into what we have today, what strengths or weaknesses exist, and some possible solutions to our current agricultural water dilemma.
I have found articles regarding sinking farmland and one farmer who found a way to sell some water to Mojave Desert; dealt with computer glitches; chased links to and from the Farm Bureau website; got distracted and read about Indian basketweaving, desert apricots, and prickly pear tunas. . . . I responded to a few who commented on "Plea for water to San Joaquin Valley gets major boost." Oh, and I managed to brush the dog and talk my husband into checking my car to find out why it wouldn't start. Of course, it started just fine for him!
On a serious note: I really want to do justice to the water issue. It's too important to gloss over. My intention has never been to simply get folks riled up. [I'm not the shouting head type.] As an educator, I WANT TO KNOW THE ANSWERS. I know I have a lot to learn, but I'm going to keep plugging away until I feel I have a handle on this.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Monday, August 17, 2009
A Visit With General Sherman
I have been meaning to get up to Sequoia this summer, and the last free admission day this year was the impetus I needed. So I packed up my camera and grabbed the hubby and headed east for what was to be a glorious 1 1/2-hour drive. Passing golden fields of dried grass and weeds interspersed with orange trees and farm houses, we stopped briefly at Minkler, then sped up the hills until we reached Lookout Point, where we had to stop and take snapshots of the valley below and the scrub forest and exposed granite hills ahead.
Wending our way past the 3000 ft. elevation marker, we were antsy to catch sight of a giant--a Giant Sequoia Redwood. I had asked my husband to take a photo every five minutes along the way to document our journey, because I was driving. However, around every curve, practically, he saw something he just had to photograph. I was loving it!
Finally, we came to the turnouts by a grove of giants. A family with five children did what so many others have, and crossed the fence to stand next to three Sequoias that appear to rise from one trunk. [I understand the lure, but I know that such acts contribute to vegetation loss and soil erosion. That's why the fence is there to separate people from the trees!] The children spread out before the giant tree trunk, stretched their arms out to either side and stood fingertips to fingertips for photos, demonstrating how wide the trunk really is.
Personally, I consider the trees to be sacred, and I have only touched two in my whole life . . . a very quick touch. I am humbled by the giants. It takes unfathomable energy to grow and live as they have. Who am I to encroach upon their majesty? To walk in their shadows is an honor.
There is plenty of fair weather left to enjoy the granite-stepped trek down and around and up again. However, my favorite time of year for Sequoia National Park is winter. If you wait until then, be sure to take chains. The park is a winter wonderland that makes any inconvenience (and the $20 per vehicle entrance fee) well worth it. The memories of white, red, green, and blue will always be with you. The giant redwoods shoot skyward from the white blanket. As you achingly hold your head back at an unnatural hyperextention to view the evergreen tree tops, all you will see is the beautiful blue sky (and somedays, snowflakes).
Wending our way past the 3000 ft. elevation marker, we were antsy to catch sight of a giant--a Giant Sequoia Redwood. I had asked my husband to take a photo every five minutes along the way to document our journey, because I was driving. However, around every curve, practically, he saw something he just had to photograph. I was loving it!
Finally, we came to the turnouts by a grove of giants. A family with five children did what so many others have, and crossed the fence to stand next to three Sequoias that appear to rise from one trunk. [I understand the lure, but I know that such acts contribute to vegetation loss and soil erosion. That's why the fence is there to separate people from the trees!] The children spread out before the giant tree trunk, stretched their arms out to either side and stood fingertips to fingertips for photos, demonstrating how wide the trunk really is.
Personally, I consider the trees to be sacred, and I have only touched two in my whole life . . . a very quick touch. I am humbled by the giants. It takes unfathomable energy to grow and live as they have. Who am I to encroach upon their majesty? To walk in their shadows is an honor.
There is plenty of fair weather left to enjoy the granite-stepped trek down and around and up again. However, my favorite time of year for Sequoia National Park is winter. If you wait until then, be sure to take chains. The park is a winter wonderland that makes any inconvenience (and the $20 per vehicle entrance fee) well worth it. The memories of white, red, green, and blue will always be with you. The giant redwoods shoot skyward from the white blanket. As you achingly hold your head back at an unnatural hyperextention to view the evergreen tree tops, all you will see is the beautiful blue sky (and somedays, snowflakes).
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