Now I know how the moon feels

Sunday afternoon was sunny, and it had been a while since the last rain.  I decided to run fire trails in the local hills because once on top of the ridge, there would be lots of sunshine!  Wheee!  Vitamin D!

It was a lovely afternoon.  A pair of white-tailed kites and a young harrier were working the west slopes of the hills, hunting for early gopher activity.  A happy looking ash-throat flycatcher was stationed on a parks department sign at a trail crossing.  The very earliest of the mustard (or is it coming up from last year's?) is starting to bloom.

It was full sunshine at 2:30-ish when I did the out and back miles along the north-south ridge.  Heading south, my right side was toasty warm and my left side was freezing.  Vice versa on the way back.  Being a weather wimp, I admit I had to stop and turn around for a few moments, more than once. 

I wonder what kind of weird autonomic nervous system responses your body goes through when one surface of the body is so much warmer than the other.  Half my brain: "Happy, happy, sunshine, birdies, flowers, run, run, run..."   Other half of my brain:  "Stop or die! Turn around! Twirl in place! Aaaurgh!"

Runners have 52 words for mud

Water soaked soil.  Mire.  Slime.  Muck.  Goo.  Adobe.  

Some people still say the Eskimos have 52 words for snow.  Be that as it may, I'm pretty sure that from autumn through spring, trail runners have about 52 words for mud.  If you include compound words.  And phrases. 

A lot of them take the form of "(expletive-adjective) (expletive-participle) (redacted) mud!" 

Sludge.  Ooze.  Bog.  Slush...

Coyote Bush

Coyote Bush is a large part of our Northern California coastal chaparral.  Here are two views of female Coyote Bush in the process of releasing seeds to the winds.  Pictures taken Saturday, 24 November 2012.  Viewing the ongoing unfolding of life in the natural world is a primary reason I love running trails.