PD James, Monarch Butterflies, solar powered radio

Jon told us about a BBC Radio4 program on forensic language analysis, presented by P. D. James, so we listened to it. Some analyses of recordings are definitive: the analyst can say what a mumbled or poorly recorded word is. At other times, analysis of words and phrases (the so-called register) reveals that a suspect's oral confession was in fact read from a statement prepared by the police. And so on. Grist for the crime novelist's mill, I suppose, but also a salutary reminder that every person's language exhibits sufficient idiosyncracies that attempts to influence a suspect's statement are likely to be detected.

Marie planted an asclepias last year, having heard that it was a good one for attracting Monarch butterflies. Earlier this evening, we saw four Monarch caterpillars having a good feed. Just now, Marie told me that they were noticeably fatter, the li'l gluttons. They will have turned into chrysalises by the time Bria and Connor get here. With luck, they will be able to the chrysalises. Asclapius is a shrubby plant about 2ft tall, with large ovoid leaves on the stems, and umbels of small white flowers. The Monarch caterpillars like the leaves, which must be extraordinarily fattening for Monarchs, as there is little evidence of their voraciousness, yet they thrive.
Update 202 06 20: The asclepias is still growing, but the monarch butterflies have all but disappeared.

I bought a small solar-powered radio from Lee Valley some time ago. Not exactly good in iffy reception areas, such as our deck (where several reflected signals intersect), but it will run without batteries, and without turning the built-in charger, so it's a Useful Tool. Sound is tinny but clear enough, and not very loud even at max setting. Recommended. Look it up in your Lee Valley catalog. We listend to Sound Advice while eating supper which tells you how late we ate.)

That's enough.

Second Thoughts

What else? I'm having them, foremost among them, Damn, I may not have much to say. Which would entail the production of drivel, writing characterised by a low ratio of sense to verbiage. Or, as my Nearest and Dearest says when unimpressed by some article, What a lot of words!

Ever have that gut wrenching feeling that comes when you realise you've just done something stoopid? And you can't blame anyone else? It's a cliche expression, but if you consider its original, literal meaning, it's a precisely true description of the experience. There's a twist and clamping down, a lurch in the world around you, and you realise that you may not know how to recover from your stoopid action. Or omission, in this case. The Horticultural Society meets in the Marina lounge, but we need a key to get in, and I'd forgotten to pick it up at the Town Hall. Ungggh! Luckily, Richard M. has a key, and I was able to track him down and borrow it, so we had our meeting at the right time and place.

I added the picture to find out how to do it. I hope you like it. This amaryllis bloomed in our front porch window two years ago.

Good night all.

First Thoughts

So, I went to my son's blog, Feldsparia, he posts something every day. Sofar (about a week into his blogging), no one has commented on his posts, which tend to be rants. But he comes by that honestly: I tend to rant, too, though these last few years I've toned 'em down a bit.

It's obvious that there has to be some structure to this blogging, that is, you have to have some notion of what shape the blog will be. A daily journal, telling of the doings and non-doings of the blogger? A list of events of note? Rants, tirades, whinges? Comments of what's good, bad, or ugly about the world I live in? This free-form, anything-goes sort of thing can quickly deteriorate into incoherent mumblings, of interest only to the blogger and his psychiatrist (whose interest is professional, ie, (s)he gets paid.) Over the next week or so, I'll try to work out something like a scheme of topics or themes.

This being Sunday, I'll proffer some Deep Thoughts. Not the Answer, I don't have it. (But the next loco I decorate for the Central Alberta Railway will be #42.) Some will be my own, most will be stolen, er, borrowed from others.

DT #1: Faith is the ability to tolerate doubt. (I think this by Augustine.)

DT#2: You can learn a lot by just looking (Yogi Berra)

DT#3: A picture may be worth a thousand words. The question is, which words? (mine).

That's enough for tonight.