photography

PSA: Novavax Covid Vaccine

/ Tracy Abell / 9 Comments

But first, a word from our sponsor:

Adult and young blue Jay.    July 13, 2024.    Photo by Zippy.

Only kidding. Another Day On the Planet has no sponsor which is why you never see any strategically-placed cans of Pringles or bottles of Dos Equis on this blog. But if there was a sponsor, BIRDS would be a great choice!

I actually just wanted to offer information and resources on the updated Covid vaccines, specifically the Novavax vaccine. Why? Because I’m realizing not many people know about it, in large part because the government is pushing Pfizer and/or Moderna. (Despite Novavax being submitted for approval in July before the other vaccines, the FDA approved Novavax last, and only after much public pressure via emails and phone calls.)

A recent study (on a previous strain) showed that while Moderna reduced the viral load by 100x, Novavax reduced the viral load by 600x.  Novavax also provides protection for both the upper and lower respiratory tracts. Many (including Zippy and me) also like Novavax because there are fewer side effects. The two times I’ve gotten Novavax were much easier than my previous Pfizer and Moderna shots. Here’s a handy graphic explaining the other benefits of Novavax.

I follow many Covid-aware people on Twitter such as virologists and immunocompromised people, and the consensus is that Novavax is the superior vaccine that offers the greatest protection. If you’re interested, the Novavax locator site will help you find the vaccine close to you.

NOTE: if you do opt for Novavax, be very clear about that when you go into the pharmacy because there are many anecdotal instances right now of people requesting Novavax and having the pharmacist instead offer Pfizer (because they see it as the default) or grabbing a syringe of Pfizer or Moderna out of habit. When I showed up for my appointment (in which I’d requested Novavax in the online form), I said I was there for Novavax (as opposed to “Covid vaccine”) to make sure we were all clear on my intentions from the outset. It’s also a very good idea to ask to see the label on the syringe just to be absolutely sure. The pharmacy I visited was very busy and those workers have LOTS on their minds, so it’s totally fine to clarify.

Please let me know if you have any other questions because I can probably point you to the answers.

Remember, the more we can do to curb the mutation and spread of the SARS-CoV-2 virus, the healthier and happier we will be. 🙂

Edited to add: BonaFide Masks is where I get KN-95 masks (ear-loops) which I mostly give out to others who want to mask but don’t want to wear a mask with head-straps. Use code BFM25 for 25% off your order through October 1. Free shipping!

Thankful Thursday: people who reach out

/ Tracy Abell / 2 Comments

Over the years, I’ve had friends from my distant past find me via this site which is always a happy surprise. And strangers have reached out after reading something I posted. For example, after writing about Aaron Bushnell on Memorial Day, a friend of his wrote to me. Their message touched me deeply and I wrote back to thank them for taking the time to contact me in solidarity.

But I’m not always successful in responding to people and so today I’m using this space to let LR know that I received their message. Thank you! I tried to respond via the email provided but there’s an error with that address and it doesn’t go through. I did an online search and was able to find an edu email address for you, and sent my message there. Because I haven’t heard anything back, I’m  wondering if that’s also a bad address. PLEASE, if you see this, use the contact form again and leave a different return address. I very much appreciated your message and would like to converse some more!

May 29, 2019

Solidarity!

They say it’s his birthday

/ Tracy Abell / 8 Comments

Today is Zippy’s birthday and he celebrated by going on a 30-mile bike ride. Another thing he likes to do? Hike. Here he is hiking in Pike National Forest last October. See that happy, relaxed smile?

Well, here’s the cut paper card I made for him this year in honor of those hikes and our “forest bathing.”

May we share many more moments of forest-induced peace in the coming year. Happy birthday, Zippy. ❤️

Thankful Thursday: the common

/ Tracy Abell / 4 Comments

Life feels difficult the last few days–personally, professionally, and globally–and now more than ever, I’m grateful for nature’s gifts. Today I’ve taken solace in the presence of many magpies (my next door neighbor just confirmed her dog–again— spread kibble in their backyard) as they fly to-and-fro, pause to snack on Rainbow’s offerings, and bathe in my bird bath.

Magpies are common around here yet they never fail to lift my spirits. Equally common are the bright, cheery sunflowers smiling in my yard and throughout the neighborhood. These, too, always bring a smile. And when that sunflower sighting includes a Common Checkered-Skipper?

Backyard. August 12, 2024

Well, then my gratitude knows no bounds. Even when I gaze upon the image nearly a month later, it’s like bottled Balm for the Soul.

Wildlife and me

/ Tracy Abell / 2 Comments

I had a lovely solo camping trip in Golden Gate Canyon State Park last week. The weather was pleasant and my site was level, plus there was a peaceful little Nature Trail right across the road that I wandered a couple times. Oddly enough, there weren’t many birds and it was mostly quiet except for the occasional Mountain Chickadee and Common Raven (which I heard several times but never spotted). I had high hopes for bird sightings since on the first afternoon I saw a White-breasted Nuthatch on a tree trunk near the restroom. That was my one and only nuthatch sighting although I had two encounters with a pair of Gray Jays. I’m not sure it was the same pair both times, but one flew directly at me near my campsite then landed in the tree right next to me, followed by another jay. And the next morning as I paused outside the restroom to put on my mask, a Gray Jay flew right (like, right) in front of me and into the building wall as if it thought it could perch there. Then it flew back into the closest tree where another jay waited. I never saw them again, but spent some time pondering whether they were trying to tell me something or maybe thought I was a kindred spirit in my gray fleece jacket that’s the same shade as their feathers.

On my first morning there, I suited up to run on the Raccoon Trail which is a 3.5 mile loop (including spur from campground) that includes Panorama Point and a view of the Continental Divide. Because I was starting at 9100 feet elevation and would gain several hundred feet more, I knew water was essential. And while I never run with my phone, I knew it would be wise to have it, so wore my small hiking pack that holds a camel back for water. After some stretches to warm up, I took off. The pack bouncing on my back didn’t bother me, but I was very aware of the water as it sloshed with every step. The trail starts out in forest and soon opens up to aspen groves. Five minutes into the run, I sloshed my way around a curve and was startled by a large crashing in the brush. A moose! Heart hammering, I immediately stopped and spoke quietly while glancing around for a calf. I only saw the one moose, but my heart still pounded at the sight of all those skinny aspen trees that weren’t big enough to hide behind if the moose decided to charge. Fortunately, we both calmed down and it soon went back to browsing. As it moved farther from the trail, I slowly and silently (no sloshing!) continued on my way. A few minutes later I came upon a hiker and as she stepped off the trail to let me pass, she asked if I’d seen the moose. I said I had.

“That calf was so cute,” she replied.

Calf?

Turned out, this woman had been about ten feet away from the juvenile moose and she’d taken photos. Yikes! Fortunately, all was well with the mama and everyone moved on without incident.

The rest of my run/scramble up rocky slopes was uneventful. I stopped to check out the view at the top and then kept going. It wasn’t until I was back at my camp site doing my cool-down stretches that I had my favorite wildlife encounter of the trip.

This ground squirrel calmly perched a few feet from me, drinking up the warm sun. Moments later, the squirrel was flat on their tummy in an obvious display of fearlessness.

I’ll confess that I took loads of photos of this squirrel and their many poses. It made my heart so happy to share the space together, that morning and throughout my stay. This squirrel was a very gracious host and I’m grateful both for the companionship and also for the fact my heart didn’t practically leap out of my chest at our encounters. Moose are amazing creatures but my time in Alaska taught me they can be very volatile and extremely dangerous. Unlike this little ground squirrel.

This squirrel was pure chill which was exactly what I needed on my trip.

Twofer Tuesday: Sarah Kendzior + Great Blue Herons

/ Tracy Abell / 4 Comments

Today I offer a majestic Great Blue Heron I had the honor of seeing last April, along with a link to Sarah Kendzior’s latest essay which, in addition to featuring sobering insights about our political reality, references a Great Blue Heron.

Lake Hasty on the evening of April 3, 2024

 

I’ve never met Sarah, but she feels like a kindred spirit. Sarah also escapes to nature when the world overwhelms and her heart aches. Tomorrow I’m heading off solo in our campervan to spend a few days in nature where I will revel in the flora and fauna. I hope to capture other images that will ground me and bring calm each time I look at them, visual mental health talismans on-call for whenever I’m in need.

I’m grateful for my privilege that makes it possible to escape into nature, and I wish the same for everyone everywhere. Someone in Sarah’s comments posted a very apt Wendell Berry poem which I’ll include here:

The Peace of Wild Things
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

Again, here is the link to Sarah Kendzior’s piece: Birds of a Feather

I’ll note that I’ve been reading Sarah’s work for the past few months and today, finally, upgraded to a paid subscription. Her eloquence and humanity are always on display, but Birds of a Feather hit me especially hard (in a good way).

Wishing everyone a good week that, I hope, includes some interactions with the natural world.

Critical pollinators

/ Tracy Abell / 11 Comments

Guanella Pass. August 1, 2024

When asked to describe insect species that can pollinate flowers, most people think of bees, butterflies, moths, and hummingbirds. However, flies are critical pollinators in both natural and agricultural systems. A recent analysis of crop species found that flies visited 72% of the 105 crops studied (bees visited 93%).   ~ Penn State Extension

Confession: I’ve often said mean things about flies buzzing around me and am going to try to remember this the next time one enters my orbit. Flies are critical to the planet. Me? Not so much. (Note: click on image to get a better look at those eyes!)

A story in three acts

/ Tracy Abell / 18 Comments

The other day, I went outside to sit with my camera. Just in case something interesting presented itself. I focused on the zinnias that are finally blooming from the seeds I planted months ago.

Right after taking that photo, the camera still held to my eye, something interesting happened.

A Broad-tailed Hummingbird flew into the frame! Fortunately, the camera speed was fairly high and, four images later, I captured this which was the best of the bunch:

In that brief span of time, all felt right with me and the world. Thank you, little Miss Hummingbird, for the gift of your presence.

When the big picture is too much

/ Tracy Abell / 14 Comments

Nature is always, always my refuge, and never more than during hard times. When the world feels too cruel and feelings of overwhelm engulf me, I know to put my focus on the little things. Yesterday I grounded myself by watching these Japanese Beetles on my in-laws’ raspberry plant.

Yes, I know Japanese Beetles are very destructive because they destroy leaves and crops. However, it’s hard to hold a grudge while belonging to the most destructive species on the planet. Humans do a lot more damage than these stunning, iridescent beetles, and yesterday I was grateful to gaze upon their splendor.

This morning as Zippy and I walked Emma around the neighborhood, I paused at a clump of Russian Sage to check out the bee situation. As expected, there were honey bees, but I was especially tickled to notice three grasshoppers perched in various places throughout.

They all seemed to be just chillin’ amongst the purple blooms. I’m in awe of grasshoppers’ intricate bodies and can’t stop looking at this image. How do all those pieces fit together? What percentage of the total body mass are those two enormous eyes? And do their joints ever get tired from all that hopping?

Once again, nature for the win.

Thankful Thursday: hawk edition

/ Tracy Abell / 15 Comments

Earlier today, movement outside the window caught my eye. I turned and saw:
Emma running along the fence + a Red-tailed Hawk sitting on the wire + a squirrel jumping into the maple tree right next to the wire + another Red-tailed Hawk landing in that maple tree.

I sent up a prayer for the squirrel as I ran for the camera in the other room. By the time I returned, all I could see were the two hawks. The squirrel must’ve escaped and Emma was elsewhere in the yard, oblivious to having chased that squirrel right toward the hawks.

I photographed the one on the wire through the kitchen window and captured the hawk in the tree by sneakily pushing my big lens through the mini-blinds in Zippy’s office. I was grateful they didn’t startle at my movements and even more grateful they hung around as long as they did. Just moments after getting photos of the tree-sitter, the hawk took off from the wire and the other followed.

I receive these gifts.

Grief is the opposite of indifference

/ Tracy Abell / 1 Comment

Gull gliding above Jefferson Lake, July 1, 2024

Becoming aware of grief gives us more choices about how to respond to grief and opens up possibilities to approach grief not only with compassion for self and others, but also with joy. Joy is not the opposite of grief. Grief is the opposite of indifference. Grief is an evolutionary indicator of love — the kind of great love that guides revolutionaries.
~ Malkia Devich-Cyril 

Note: I found that quote in Let This Radicalize You: Organizing and the Revolution of Reciprocal Care by Kelly Hayes & Mariame Kaba (it comes from this essay) and wanted to share it in response to my grief on many fronts: genocide in Gaza, climate collapse, political cowardice, abandonment during a global pandemic, etc. It also feels like a worthy companion to the excerpt shared in Rosaliene Bacchus’s post: Sighting the Storm which resonated with me.

Thankful Thursday: trailrunning

/ Tracy Abell / 22 Comments

Just over three weeks ago, I took a pretty hard fall while running on the trails in the open space. I’ll spare you the image of my left knee that I texted to my sons after limping home (an image that prompted Wildebeest to reply, “Ewwwww. Mother I am squeamish”), and will only say that the last bits of scabbing came off two days ago (to which everyone reading is probably thinking, “Ewwwww, Tracy. We’re squeamish!”) The point is, my knee is healed and while I’d already resumed running on the streets, I was very nervous about trail running again.

I got up at six this morning knowing I needed to run early in order to beat the heat, and checked in with my intuition: run on the trails or run on the streets? Trails. Okay, then. In an attempt to feel slightly more protected, I put on leggings despite temperatures already in the 60s.

Not gonna lie: it’s always scary to run on those rocky trails after a fall and today was no different. It was hard to fully relax and I had to intentionally push images of tripping and falling out of my mind. I talked myself through the run (“You are strong. You are resilient. You are mindful. Feet on the ground, feet on the ground, feet on the ground,”) and tried very hard to be in the moment. Whenever my brain jumped to catastrophe, I reminded it to “be in this moment, with these steps.” [Note: I’m sharing these details to document the experience for myself, but also in case this approach might be helpful for anyone dealing with a trauma.]

I wasn’t alone out in the open space. A large dark butterfly flew right in front of me, bringing a grin. Birds sang (lots of Spotted Towhees with their sweet sweet teeeeea) and when I paused to stretch at the top of the slog, I heard the liquid song of a Western Meadowlark.

Not a great photo but this was my very first Western Meadowlark sighting of the year at Lake Hasty on 4.3.24

While I avoided a particularly rocky segment of the trail, I knew it was imperative I run past where I’d fallen. As I got closer to the scene of the fall, all sorts of feelings and tightness showed up in my body, and I paused to allow myself to feel all of that. As I had immediately after the initial fall, I visualized my left foot hitting the rock in the trail and then rewrote the story in my mind. Instead of slamming into the hard ground, I slid into what was essentially a slip-n-slide of banana pudding (yep, that’s what my brain came up with that day). Both initially and today, I allowed my body to feel that frictionless sensation and then visualized myself laughing as I wiped pudding from my face and hands, and licked it from my fingers. I went through that exercise several times. It’s a somatic experiencing trick I learned from my therapist, and I highly recommend this for releasing trauma from your system. It works. As I walked home from the initial fall, my knee hurt but my body was already more relaxed. And over the next week, whenever the image of falling popped into my head, I reverted to my banana pudding rewrite. Pretty soon, I stopped having “flashbacks.”

Today I’m very grateful that I was able to run on my beloved trails again. I’m grateful I remained upright and I’m grateful for the tools I have to help me recover. I know from past experience that today’s run didn’t fully liberate me from my trauma and that I’ll be tentative for a bit, but facing my fear will go a long way toward getting me back to where I want to be. And where I want to be is out running on the trails. 🙂

Hiking with Emma

/ Tracy Abell / 11 Comments

This is Emma after an enthusiast frolic in the snow next to the trail around Jefferson Lake last Monday.

We’re headed out now for another hike, this time in Golden Gate Canyon State Park, and I’m hoping for Emma’s sake that there’s more snow in her near future. 🙂

Wishing everyone a beautiful day!

Wordful Wednesday: flora edition

/ Tracy Abell / 7 Comments

As mentioned,  I spent part of yesterday in the backyard. However, my attention wasn’t solely aimed at birds, bees, and butterflies. I also found beauty in the bindweed blooming at the base of a clump of lamb’s ear.

Backyard.   July 2, 2024

 

Don’t get me wrong: I’m no fan of the invasive bindweed that wraps itself around other plants, choking them off. But the flowers are pretty. I still remember my neighbor’s horror years ago when I’d said as much. The funny thing is, the neighbor who now lives in that house also thinks bindweed flowers are pretty. Still, we both try to keep it at bay. And we’re both wildly unsuccessful.

In addition to the lovely blooms, I have to admire the weed’s tenacity. Bindweed and cockroaches, man. Survival instincts like no other.

Twofer Tuesday: house wren edition

/ Tracy Abell / 14 Comments

Earlier, I was feeling loads of anxiety about the state of the world and planet, and so wisely went outside to sit below the deck for a hit of nature. The lamb’s ear are abuzz with bees and a painted lady butterfly landed on the plant closest to me. A swallowtail butterfly floated past. Various birds sang and then went silent for a while. As I petted Emma who was curled up on the bench next to me, a house wren began singing again. I aimed my camera into the light to capture the songster.

Didn’t catch the wren mid-note, but they were singing their little heart out.

And then I became aware of another wren, this one making the churring sound. That bird was a little farther down the fence.

I took a few more photos, grinning as the first wren continued the melodious song while this one stuck to its churring call. I lowered the camera then squinted, wondering if I was seeing things. No, I wasn’t imagining it!Two wrens, side-by-side. Two fluffy wrens. The baby wrens that’d been very vocal on Saturday as their parents worked tirelessly to feed them. The baby wrens that’d left the nest on Sunday, leaving Zippy and me to wonder where they’d gone. Just minutes before they showed up on the fence, I’d asked him whether young wrens stick around or head to a whole new area on their own. Zippy said he didn’t know.

But now we do know: they stick around!For a while, at least. To learn their calls and songs, and to practice flying.

 

 

His poetry and my photo

/ Tracy Abell / 3 Comments

This morning I went into the backyard with the camera and came away with this image from one of our blooming Apache Plumes.

The image reminded me of dancing fairies, delicate and airy. Later, I received an update and thank-you email from a fundraising campaign, sponsored by the Gaza Poets Society, to evacuate two young children from Gaza. The email update stated that due to the continued closure of the Rafah border, the campaign is shifting from evacuation to sustainability (food and basic supplies), and donations of any amount are gratefully accepted.  The thank-you portion of the email was a PDF of the Gaza Poets Society Anthology.

As I read through the poems, Dance with Me made me think of my blooming Apache Plume, and I wanted to share the pairing here. His poetry and my photo, connected across the miles, in honor of our shared humanity.

Dance with Me – Mohammed Moussa

I’ll dance with you
under the rain
in love and pain;
on the seashore of hope
we will sing for life and joy.
We’ll dance
on behalf of absence
in the streets, and
on the outskirts of our city
we’ll flap our wings
lift joy and love
and sing
         and sing

Twofer Tuesday: out my window

/ Tracy Abell / 12 Comments

Today I’m grateful for all the activity that’s viewable from my windows. Just a while ago, I paused my laundry duties to watch house wrens at the nesting box hanging outside the window. Nothing like a little avian activity to lighten the drudgery of dealing with dirty sheets and towels.

Last week, I photographed this youngster eating the nut munch we provide for neighborhood squirrels. I smiled the entire time.

A few minutes later, I was gifted the sighting of this magpie and its colorful plumage. It wasn’t until looking at the photos that I realized a tail feather is damaged. That imperfection doesn’t detract from its beauty, but instead adds to its mystique.

It’s currently 95 degrees and I’m hunkered down inside, grateful for the swamp cooler keeping the house cool-ish and for the windows that allow glimpses of our wildlife visitors.

Poppies for Palestine

/ Tracy Abell / 5 Comments

As I walked past my neighbor’s poppies today, my thoughts went to Gaza because the poppy is the national flower of Palestine.

June 10, 2024

I’m grateful for these poppies, glorious and resilient in the face of our frequent heavy winds, since mine tend to live very short lives. Every year, they’re here and then gone. But despite my poppy experience, poppies are seen as a symbol of resilience:

The poppy symbolizes the resilience and enduring spirit of the Palestinian people. This designation stems from the flower’s pervasive presence in the region and its poignant representation in various cultural and historical contexts.

The red of the poppy symbolises the blood of the martyrs within this land. The colors of the poppy also mirror the colors of the Palestinian flag with red, black, white and green.

The poppy’s vibrant red petals are often seen as a metaphor for the bloodshed and sacrifices endured in the ongoing struggle for freedom and self-determination. Its ability to thrive in adverse conditions mirrors the steadfastness and hope of the Palestinian people amidst their challenging circumstances. The choice of the poppy as a national symbol is a powerful testament to the collective memory, cultural identity, and the unyielding quest for peace and sovereignty in Palestine.

Today I post these poppies in solidarity with the people of Gaza. From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free.