a hummingbird rescue

This afternoon, Alice found a baby hummingbird - to be more exact, an adolescent hummingbird - in our front yard.  He was alert, but not moving.  So she fetched him some sugar water, and fed him some from a tiny syringe.  By then, he was stirring from the dish - and I gave him a long piece of wood to sit on, too, and at one point he wandered back and I fed him - so poignantly adorable to see his tiny long tongue coming out to suck goodness from the end of a dropper.  No sign of any parents.  It was becoming obvious we had a tiny feathery problem.  Alice called a bird rescue number in ... Santa Monica; who contacted a bird rehabilitator in Silver Lake, and we drove him over there in a shoebox with holes in the lid.  His biggest problem by now may be shock, but the first assumption all round is that he hit his head.  I suspect we'll never know if he makes it or not, but I so hope he does - he was the sweetest young thing.

 

tall houses

One very real problem with a tall house is that there are certain maintenance jobs that we're certainly not prepared to tackle ourselves, especially anything that involves, as here, getting up on a ladder on a balcony.  Here we are having a birds' nest removed (safely out of nesting season) from a high ledge under the roof, where for some years now a very sociable family of house finches have tried raising their brood.  It's nicely sheltered from owls and hawks - on the other hand, strong winds can lift the nest right off that ledge, so it's not always successful.  And now ... a row of discreet thin spikes has been inserted as a deterrent.  This means that we'll be able to use that balcony in the spring time - it's been decidedly off bounds for several months each year.  On the other hand, the cats will miss their annual entertainment.

 

Hidcote lavender

Occasionally, I get adamant about something horticultural.  One of these things has been having some Hidcote lavender in the garden - lavandula angustifolia "Hidcote" Our gardener duly sourced and planted some - possibly the smallest lavender plants I've ever seen.  Truly, it's bonsai lavender.  But today, the very first flower.  It looked a little improbably broad and spread out, but I fed this image into Plantsnap, and I'm reassured as to its identity.  Maybe its diminutive companions will take encouragement from this ...

 

Gauchos of Griffith Park

From time to time, we see people riding in Griffith Park - usually park rangers.  This morning, something rather different down on Crystal Springs Drive: a whole posse of guys about our age, all riding Western (and looking very comfortable); all on really good looking horses.  I guess one could pretend that the trash bin could be adapted, or adopted, for barrel racing ...

 

Home!

That was 27 hours travel, door to door.  And now, reunited with Gramsci (not to mention Alice, and Moth), I plan to sleep.

 

an unanticipated day in Buenos Aires ...

It was raining this morning, which means that my last piece of unworn clothing - my raincoat - was brought out of my luggage.  I thought (and the hotel agreed) that the only way to be sure that I'd sorted out my travel arrangements (the "real" flight is now scheduled to depart at 7.15 tomorrow morning ... I wonder ...) was to go to the American Airlines office downtown, and they were super helpful, thank goodness, and I should be leaving at 10.45 p.m.  This meant I took a commuter train in from San Isidro to Retiro, the one last major Anglo-influenced building I'd yet to see properly - and yes, it's an Edwardian station! At least, the main part of it might as well be Victorian - I might as well have gone to Paddington.  All the parts were manufactured in Liverpool, and shipped out, and assembled in BA.

The booking hall concourse can't have changed much ... there are, of course, precious few places to buy tickets to, any more -

and other aspects are less retro than never changed.

And the buffers are from Ipswich!  They say 1913 on them: of course, after that, the company responsible, Ransome's and Rapier, were making war stuff.  As a company, however, they had a terrific history, making essential railway parts for all round the world - China, especially - and dam gates and sluices for India: there's a research project here howling to be done.  I am forever an engineer's daughter, I guess.

Airline business conducted, I walked to my favorite building, noting that some of the (many) pet shops were entering into fervent World Cup spirit,

and I did hold out hope that I'd get inside, this time.

And yes, it was full of people paying their water bills, and sorting out their water problems,

with a tiny, tiny number of artifacts on display.  They are clearly proud of their history, but alas, the museum was still firmly closed for renovation, and the guards and I agreed that yes, this was a pity.

Might as well have a bowl of guiso de lentejas while looking at the Palacio ... lentil stew has probably been, overall, my favorite Argentinian dish.

And back to the hotel, passing this sign on the walk from the station.  My spoken Spanish isn't very good, but it exists in a functional way (now, of course, probably disastrously modulated by Argentinian colloqialisms).  I don't know how I'd have managed without it - people in hotels often have excellent English, but that's about it.  I've been puzzled how very few signs I've seen offering English lessons - usually in non-English countries I'm used to seeing language school after language school promoting itself.  This one ... looks as though it mightn't use the most up to date methods.

And one last wave from my lovely, quirky, old-fashioned San Isidro hotel.

I'm delighted to report that I'm writing from the airport lounge, with a suitably strong vodka tonic in front of me ... with luck I'll arrive at Burbank (that's a bonus!) in about 24 hours time.

 

Tigre: one last Argentinian day (or not)

 

It was a very feline day, and began with a sighting of the Hotel Cat, walking alongside the swimming pool.

The hotel's - what? lounge, lobby? gives a great sense of what this must have been like at the turn of the century: this area, San Isidro, has some lovely old houses, like this one, on cobbled streets;

and has its own Gothic Revival cathedral, consecrated in 1898.

Bus to Tigre, a town up the river Lujan - which feeds into the Plato - and which is a town that owns its own name, whether on lamp posts or trash bins or any kind of municipal object,

or outside its Tigerish soccer club.

I had gone there to see this building, the Museo de Bellas Artes - which had looked so wonderful in photos - built as a club in the very first part of the twentieth century - but disappointingly turned out to be like a rather over ambitious Edwardian hotel in Leamington Spa.

But the walk up the river was wonderful, and when I saw people crowding into this restaurant, even though I rarely eat lunch when traveling, this seemed like a good idea ...

Many of the houses along the river are very dilapidated and clearly belong in some neo-Gothic scenario.

The river is served by little boats - like vaporettos in Venice - that carry passengers up and down, so I asked a guy at the ticket booth where it would be sensible to take a round trip to, and went.

Actually, it was a bit like Richmond ...

But the Venice motif was definitely there: once back on dry land I walked to find out more about this,

and, unsurprisingly ... (there are many rowing and sports clubs in Tigre).

And one last Argentinian cat - not very tiger-like, but, with those blue and white stripes, definitely expecting the country to win the World Cup again.

And that, I thought, was that ... but just heard that my flight tomorrow is wildly delayed because of maintenance, so I'll miss my connection, so ...well, let's just say I think I've successfully rebooked, but it's going to be a long and complicated route back ...