The Many Hats of Debi Cates

July 2009

2009-07-10T23:59:00.000-05:00

White Beauty

2009-07-10T23:58:00.001-05:00

"White Beauty"
West Odessa, Texas

A surprise. For us both.

Indian Rush Pea

2009-07-09T23:39:00.003-05:00

Indian Rush-pea (Hoffmanseggia glauca)
West Odessa, Texas

I have to explain that, while out taking photos, I periodically take photos of intersections, highway signs, street signs, whatever so that when looking back through the photos I have an idea of what area I was in when I took them. (Good idea, eh?)

So, today I was going through some batches of my photos and noticed something in one of those marker type photos. I noticed that in a mere two days the Indian rush-pea had exploded. Take a look at these two photos of almost exactly the same area to see what I mean. The first one was taken June 30, the next one on July 2nd. Amazing what a little rain will do. Rush pea is right.

...

Lemon Horsemint for Jomamma

2009-07-08T18:52:00.007-05:00

Close up of Lemon Horsemint (Monarda citriodora)
Coke County, Texas

I've had a great time looking at Jomamma's West Texas photos (so far she's posted part 1 and part 2) taken while she visited her brother's ranch recently. There were photos of fish, longhorns, vinagroons, tarantulas, fishing, fire arms, breakfast tacos, a pet bobcat, fishing, a stinky dog, er, Stinky the Dog, a tire swing, catching the first fish of the day, and more. Every photo depicts family having a great fun being together. And did I mention, photos of fishing?

And while there, I spied a flower that I wonder if was the one she commented that she wanted to know the name of. I took these photos along the roadside back in May when we went camping. And say, we were fishing, too!

Reading up on this showy native flower, it seems like it should be in every Texas garden. It's supposed to be easy to grow, not picky about soil type, will fill in any unused spaces, and even though it's an annual, should pretty much self-seed. When you crush the leaves they smell lemony (it's part of the mint family) and the First Peoples and Settlers made tea from the boiled leaves.

According to my newly purchased 1928 Texas Wild Flowers by Ellen D. Shulz -- I'm so tickled pink I found a copy -- the beekeepers of Texas at that time considered this plant one of the most important. And if you keep chickens (that would be you, Mom, er, Bobbie) Shulz writes that the dried plant put in the hay of their roosts will keep away mites and fleas.

I also was suprised that Linnaeus himself gave the plant its genus name! Monarda is after the Spanish botanist Nicolas Bautista Monardes who, while never actually visiting the Americas himself, did study them. Ok. I know this last bit is rather botageeky, but I thought it was cool.

A Flower for Sweet Irene

2009-07-07T18:41:00.008-05:00

Common Passionflower (Passiflora caerulea)
On my western fence
West Odessa, Texas

If you haven't seen this flower before it's going to look a little unbelievable, but believe it or not, it grows quite well in my yard, providing me with blooms continuously from April until sometimes as late as November.

The Passion Flower created quite a stir when it was first seen by Spanish explorers of South America in the 17th century. Priests at that time gave the flower the name we use today, assigning various parts of the flower to symbols of the Passion of Christ. Wikipedia outlines the various symbols quite nicely:

The unusual shape of the flowers has led to the plant being associated in Christian symbolism with the passion of Jesus; the three stigmas representing the three nails used to nail Jesus to the cross, the ovary and its stalk represent the chalice of the Last Supper, the five anthers represent the five wounds, the corona represents the crown of thorns, the ten 'petals' (actually five petals and five sepals) the apostles (save Judas the traitor and Peter the denyer); the old leaves also represent the hands of those who persecuted him, the young leaves the point of the lance used to stab him, and the tendrils the whips of those who beat him.

There are quite a number of species of the passiflora genus, almost 500, each seemingly more exotic than the next. Three species are native to Texas: Bracted passionflower (Passiflora affinis), Fetid passionflower (Passiflora foetida) and the really beautiful Purple passionflower (Passiflora incarnata) which I tried to grow, but sadly placed it in one of the places where my dog Dixie likes to stand guard to bark.

The passionflower, a vine, is the exclusive food of the caterpillar of the Gulf Fritillary butterfly. Throughout the year, I enjoy the butterfly company just nearly as long as the blooms. By the end of the summer, the hungry caterpillars can have the vine looking pretty ragged, though. The price of enjoying butterflies; you must also enjoy, or tolerate, caterpillars. You can see butterfly eggs in the picture above, the little orange specks on the bud on the left.

The fruit is edible. On my plant the fruit is rather bland-tasting, but nothing that adding a little sugar, some spices, and throwing into a pie crust wouldn't cure. However, I've not yet gotten enough fruit at one time to ever try that idea out.

Now I think you know everything I know about the passionflower vine.

Except how heavenly it is scented.

The Old Rugged Cross

2009-07-06T23:32:00.002-05:00

"The Old Rugged Cross"
Interstate 20
Between Odessa and Monahans, Texas

Titled this photo after the old-time gospel song.

Monday's Mail: June 28 - July 4

2009-07-06T07:00:00.002-05:00

@ Maya: You came through Texas at the perfect time of year. @ Bobbie: I'm 99% sure they are edible. Seems like I read where you can batter and fry them. Of course, anything battered and fried is going to taste, well, battered and fried yummy!

Yep, morning glories. @ Green Stone Woman: I'd love to see photos of your if you decide to grow some there in the Netherlands. @ GodinLA: Aw, you're sweet. Probably the wrinkly one in the middle. @ PhyicEveryday: Oh! That makes perfect sense. To see what she means about hearts, go to her site all about her hearts, My Abstract Heart.

@ GodinLA: You cut me to the core. :*( No, seriously, I resist photoshopping my photos into perfection. I downsize them, sharpen them because the downsize loses sharpeness, and then will sometimes do a corrective color adjust. Remember you are seeing the cream of the crop. I took probably 50 other shots of sandhills very similar to this one that day. @ Maya: Maybe next time you come through Texas? And this time, unless I'm dead, I'll take you there.

@ Mr. K: I thought this photo was going to go uncommented until you came along. Thank you for seeing it with a similar eye. And @ PhyicEveryday: You are my abstract Goddess & Muse!

@ GodinLA: You are right. I'm even afraid of Putting that in Google, no telling what you'd get. But there are these old fashioned little square things that people used to use before the Internet. I flip through them. ;) I have about five books now on the wildflowers of Texas. And when that doesn't work, a local call to the nearby Mr. Burr Williams of the Sibley Nature Center in Midland always, always works, even if I consider it cheating. @ Frances: You shock me! And I love your daring. I will have to do a lot more research on dodder before I would try it. It just doesn't look, um, palatable to me. (Remember I thought previously it was oil field trash). @ Green Stone Woman: It does seem a bit alien, doesn't it? I wonder what things grow naturally there? I'd love to come find all your exotic alien plants there. @ PhyicEveryday: "An iPhone app for that." That's funny!

It was a good fourth, spent out of doors! And thankfully, Green Stone Woman is right. The world has quite a number of free, democratic societies. Plan to visit one some day.

That's it for this Monday's Mail. Thank you for your comments, one and all.

Subject and subjective

2009-07-05T19:28:00.004-05:00

200 S Faye Ave
Monahans, Texas

Every once in a while you get a picture that says to you, Yes, that's what I saw. But more importantly, it makes you say, Yes, that's what I felt.

This is one of those photos. I won't say it's perfect. My grandmother used to say only God did anything perfect. And I can see flaws in this one, such as I wish it had been a little bit more level. But I want to talk a bit about it -- my subjective take on it.

Foremost, I like the plainness of this photo. There is blue sky, a peculiar green building, and weeds. It is forlorn. It is forgotten, presumably empty, and yet, sits there all the same. Not budging an inch. The sky swirls above it, the grass grows around it, and the world of man has moved on. It is so long forgotten that its original purpose isn't even apparent any more. It could have been anything, but certainly even then, it wasn't a masterpiece.

The image is split nearly in half -- half sky, half building. Normally this is not a desired thing in photos; the "rule of threes" is preferred. Perhaps, though, in this case I can get away with it because of the interest each half. In the top half, the soft organically shaped clouds. In the bottom half, your eyes go straight to the windows, two small pair, black and stark. Half a second later you will register the one other window like a discovery, the cemented one. As you keep looking, the roof will begin to register too, a gray band with faded spots, curled-up shingles, its originally laid-out pattern still discernible. Flickering back and forth you then see that every where on the building are imperfections mixed in the patterns, a general state of tension not unfamiliar to human experience.

The photo begins with organic peacefulness, and ends with it, in the sliver of flowering weeds at the bottom. Some light has caught the tips as they seemingly go blowing along to the right beyond our view, where the photo ends.

I suppose you might call this, in part, my artist's statement. Perhaps it's not what I have accomplished, but it is what I strive to invoke. Is it wabi-sabi, as Kevin -- an especially clear-eyed artist photographer -- recently commented? Something like that, but a Western view: Western hemisphere, western sensibility, and the western part of a western state where landscape is the inflexible informer.

Links:
East of West L.A., Kevin McCollister's photography blog. If you have not yet taken a look at Kevin's blog, I highly recommend his latest (July 4th) photo.
A plain (wabi-sabi?) page explaining the elements of wabi-sabi.

Happy Independence Day

2009-07-04T23:55:00.002-05:00

American flag blowing in a West Texas breeze
Ward County, Texas

Happy Independence Day, my fellow American readers.

Happy Fourth of July to everyone!

Devil's Daughter

2009-07-03T23:34:00.005-05:00

"Devil's Daughter", dodder (Cuscuta sp.)
Ector County, Texas

So, ok, it's not really called Devil's Daughter, it's called dodder. But it is also sometimes called devil's guts, devil's hair, and witch's shoelaces -- cool names I think.

I've seen this stuff for as long as I can remember living here, but I used to think it was some sort of oil field trash because of that weird orange color and because it looks strewn on the roadsides.

One day last summer I took a closer look and saw it's some sort of plant! But turns out, not a very nice plant. It's a parasite that will kill its host and can transmit some diseases to it also. Its seeds -- which it makes in abundance -- can last 5-10 years in the soil. It has a variety of plants it likes (and some it doesn't), unfortunately those it likes includes alfalfa, flax, and potatoes. Recently it was discovered the plant uses a kind of plant sense of smell to find its preferred host.

I used to think it was kind of cool, but after reading up on it, I'm thinking it's not too cool. Kinda pretty up close, but no, not cool.

Dock Abstract

2009-07-02T23:25:00.000-05:00

"Dock Abstract"
Monahans, Texas

I like the more traditional photo below equally as well.

"Dock Portrait"
Monahans, Texas

Sandhills

2009-07-01T23:13:00.004-05:00

Sandhills at intersection of Farm Road 1053 and 1233
Crane County, Texas

I've discovered this new patch of beautiful sandhills about 30 miles from here. It's too bad there is oil drilling and pumping all around. But, that I can work around with some inventive shot framing. What is really too bad is the morning I arrived at dawn some very busy thrill-seeker on a four-wheeler arrived too.

Still, they are stunning. I'll remember to go back again, at pre-dawn after a great big wind storm.

June 2009

2009-06-30T23:59:00.000-05:00

Happy Hearts

2009-06-30T00:12:00.000-05:00

A dilemma solved: Monday's Mail

2009-06-29T00:00:00.002-05:00

A dilemma has bothered me for some time. How best for a blogger to answer comments? In the past, I would go back to each comment section and answer. But unless the commenter went back there him or herself also, they wouldn't see the reply. (In Blogger, you can subscribe to be notified by email for a set of comments, but I never remember to take time to do that. Do you?)

I've got an idea that I hope will solve this problem to mutual satisfaction.

Welcome to my first installment of Monday's Mail, with links back to your blogs ;)

@ Green Stone Woman: I can understand why that collage is discombobulating. I hoped it would give the sensation of driving at night, with all the shapes and reflections flashing by you, but not seen long enough to put straight in your mind. All elements in the collage, though, were from my photographs, so in that sense they were "real."

@ Green Stone Woman: Thank you so much for the compliment on this piece. It's one of my favorites, too. Now that I have your mailing address, you never know what might show up there one day ;)

@ Bobbie: I know what you mean about the face looking familiar. But, no, it's not me (as I've done in the past with digitally altered photographs). I did use the standard "Sacred Heart of Jesus" painting as a source. Was it Grandma Cates that had one like this hanging in her home for a long time?

@ everyone: Thank you for your comments. Turns out I did have damage after all. Must call the insurance agency tomorrow. Hail holes in the siding on the south end of the house. Ugh. @ Jomamma: Girl, you know how to make me laugh! @ John: a margarita?! Only you would see that -- and it's so dead-on.

@ Green Stone Woman: If you didn't comment on this one, I'd think I was really too strange even for words. @ Nelda: is this one you were thinking of when you said I did weird things? I hope so. I meant for it to be weird.

@ Green Stone Woman: "Admonishing the Butterflies" -- I like that! Maybe that should be its new title.

@ everyone: Thank you for your comments. @ Frances: Thank you for asking about Casey. He is recuperated. So much so that he only has time for work and the occasional doctor's appointment, few if any pictures :( @ Mr. K: I always appreciate your fellow-photog comments. Like your own photos, they inspire me.

@ Green Stone Woman: I'll remember Ireland, in case I ever win the lottery. @ Bobbie: Visit me? Heck, the East wing can be yours! @ GodinLA: Take me there. Please.

@ GodinLA: Correction, that was taken in Enochs, Texas. I think you would enjoy this post about some other photos I took there at that same time, it was before you found my blog, I believe. Seemed to provoke a lot of strong feelings in my viewer base back then.

@ TownsendTales: Hello! Don't believe we've met. Thank you for dropping by from South Carolina, and for the comment. I'll have to say hello over at your place soon. @ Mr. K: I do know of wabi-sabi and have a great affinity for its philosophy. Seems to fit in my imperfect life perfectly. @ PhyicEveryday: Thank you for the comment, also a gift.

@ Green Stone Woman: Good point: other than the butterfly weed, do people plant these in their gardens? Heck, I would like them in my (wabi-sabi) garden. Must keep an eye out for its seeds over the coming months. @ Frances: You are right about the pair of photos giving a better idea. I'll keep that in mind and try to do that more often. @ GodinLA: LOL. Yep, probably. I was never a Bush, I can tell you that. @ Bobbie: I enjoy digging into the natural history of plants, too. Wonder where I got that trait from, Mom? @ PhyicEveryday: I have seen a gathering of Monarchs just once, near here. It is amazing. And like you say, makes the humble milkweed the starting point of it all.

@ Green Stone Woman: Or a stinking photographer? @ Jomamma: Summer break! Yeehaw! Loraine isn't too far from here. Your brother's place? @ Bobbie: Good point. If I knew my flowering plant families better, I'd have an easier place to start. @ PhyicEveryday: I've noticed the stunning flowers on your site. Photog Sister Karas is awesome! Goes nicely with your work, too.

@ Maya: Isn't it funny now to find out you were driving by a forest but didn't know it? I still lament not being well enough to meet you and Janet. I would have enjoyed that immensely. By the way, you have an awesome blog with awesome photos. I visit but only lurk. I need to say hello occasionally. @ Green Stone Woman: LOL. Wonder if "shinnery" will show up in Six Sentences one day? @ Jomamma: LOL. Yep. Especially at noon. @ Bobbie: You aren't going to believe this, but I remember the day you taught me about the little oak forest. I was amazed. And continue to be, actually. @ Frances: I can just see you, throwing your Euell Gibbons' book to the ground! I think you have to leach them like three times before all the bitter tannins are out. Yep. Three times.

That's it for this first installment of Monday's Mail. Thank you everyone for saying hello and sharing with me. I've enjoyed them all.

Where have all the yuccas gone?

2009-06-28T22:26:00.004-05:00

Yucca at sunset, May 18, 2009
Master Gardener's Demonstration Garden
Time Machine, 42nd Street, Odessa, Texas

One day I will have enough time during the brief life of yucca blooms to photograph them to my heart's content. I can't believe it is almost July already.

How many trees do you see?

2009-06-27T22:22:00.008-05:00

Sandhills along Ranch Road 1601
South of Penwell, Texas

Yes, there's one mesquite, but would you believe that you are also looking at a section of the world's largest oak forest?

Most of the green you see in the photo is Harvard Shin Oak trees (Quercus havardii). No one around here is crazy enough to call this a forest, in spite of the fact that even the U.S Forest Service deems it one. Everyone around here calls a stretch of shin oaks like this, "shinnery." Shinnery is endemic to this area and grows no where else. Even here it only grows in the sandhill areas and rarely gets much taller than a foot, although occasional specimens will grow to regular tree size.

At Harvard University's Flora of North America site, you can see the shin oak's distribution which covers most of West Texas, Eastern New Mexico, parts of Oklahoma, and another forest straddling Utah and Arizona. I read on a U.S. Forestry pag e that this diminutive oak covers 5 to 7 million acres!

I've been meaning for ages to leach in boiling water, then try eating some of the acorns as Native Americans did, but haven't yet. Maybe this fall. If so, I'll let you know.

Links:

One of my all-time favorite sites for this kind of information is of course the Sibley Nature Center in sister city Midland. Much of what we are learning in the Master Naturalist 2009 class revolves around habitats; the sand dunes being one of eight of the Llano Estacado. An introduction to the sandhills, how they form and continue to form, is here. (Who knew sand could so interesting?)
Another great thing about the Sibley site are the photo essays. From the photos of the Master Naturalist class of 2008, Burr Williams posted this photo-illustrated essay about the evidence they found of all the critters that make the sandhills home.

Alley flower

2009-06-26T23:58:00.000-05:00

Unidentified species
West Odessa, Texas

I've seen this flower quite a few times now, but still can't find it in my flower books or on the various Texas wildflower sites I know. It's a pretty bloom, about the size of a quarter, and the succulent leaves and stems are a pretty green. The only thing that keeps me from gathering its seed pods is the plant stinks! So I guess it will remain an "alley flower" to me.

Sandhill milkweed

2009-06-24T23:58:00.001-05:00

Milkweed flower head (perhaps Desert Milkweed, Asclepidaceae speciosa)
Along the sandhills of Ranch Road 1601
Near Penwell, Texas

Although not rare in these parts, milkweed is not nearly common enough to suit me, and always a delight to find. It's not until you really look at a milkweed's flower head that it becomes something more than an indistinct, tall green weed.

Today my favorite part of the milkweed (tomorrow it may change) is the delicate way the sepals fall steeply down from the flower, then swoop back up, creating, it seems to me, a feminine curve. This is echoed somewhat in the way the leaves grow in this particular species.

Just today at last I realized that the common garden flower, the "butterfly weed" is an orange milkweed, which now makes perfect sense as milkweeds are the sole food of the Monarch Butterfly larva. The toxins in the sap of milkweed -- which some people have a skin reaction to -- are what give the Monarch its foul taste. And protection.

Another thing to admire about the lowly milkweed is the way it distributes its pollen grains. It doesn't just stick it out there for any ol' gust of wind to catch. No, it keeps its pollen in pollen sacs that attach mechanically to insect legs as the fly off, and then has another mechanism that releases the sacs when the insect lands. (This is the same mechanism an orchid uses.)

Got an Hour? Want a Prize?

2009-06-24T09:48:00.006-05:00

I just played Google and Virgin Amercia's Day in the Cloud Challenge, the world's first scavenger hunt that is played both on land and in the air, to be played today only.

PRIZES: 5 prize packages will be awarded, each consisting of: 1 netbook, 1TB Google Account storage for 1 year, 12 one-way tickets on Virgin America (which may be subject to booking limitations) plus 12 complimentary WiFi passes. Each prize has an approximate retail value of $5,000 USD.

Kind of a skimpy prize package for such big boys like Google and Virgin...but hey, I'd take any one of them.

My pathetic score was 5250 feet. (I spent too much time on the zip code question and still didn't get it.)

End of Cheating

2009-06-23T23:58:00.003-05:00

What you'll find at the end of Drivers Hall of Fame Road
(Not exactly what I expected)
West Odessa, Texas

You may notice that this month's calendar, previously weakly populated, has suddenly gotten full.

I have spent the last three weeks working steadily and increasingly exclusively on a data conversion for my job. To say it has consumed me would be right. It was ravenous data bits eating my life away. And not the "good kind" of data bits, like those in digital photos.

Today at 4pm I submitted the project, and then promptly took a nice nap.

After waking and coming here to post a long-over due photo (taken yesterday when I simply had to escape the screen and see if the world still existed), I decided I did not like the empty calendar. Not at all. So, I went back and posted "cheating" entries of some of my old collages and stuff. (What else is there to be done with them?)

Anyway....YIPPEE!

Cheating, June 22, 2009

2009-06-22T23:59:00.000-05:00

"Stories We'll Never Know"
Bula, Texas
Debi Cates, posted June 23, 2009

Cheating, June 21, 2009

2009-06-21T01:24:00.000-05:00

"Hacienda poquita"
Digital mouse drawing
Debi Cates, posted June 23, 2009

A little place of my dreams, probably in New Mexico somewhere.

Cheating, June 20, 2009

2009-06-20T23:59:00.001-05:00

"Mexican Love Vine"
Photo
Debi Cates, posted June 23, 2009

Unexpected results of putting my hand in front of the flash.

Cheating, June 19, 2009

2009-06-19T23:59:00.002-05:00

"Island of St. Romance" (aka "Best Performance")
Digital art from one of my photos
Debi Cates, posted June 23, 2009