Waterfoul!

One thing we love about Boise is the greenery (well, not now, but come spring). It's not called the City of Trees for nothing. In season, the many parks feature broad swathes of vivid green dappled by the shadows of huge old trees of many different species. On a warm, sunny day, the urge to throw one's self on the sod and roll around in ecstasy is almost irresistible. Especially after a long winter.

It is, however, wise to resist that urge, because, as always, the devil is in the detail. The devil in this case being Boise's large year-round population of geese.

They're everywhere, even wandering the industrial park where I work.
At first, their presence is almost magical. Watching a vast gaggle
of them grazing for insects and seeds in the grass, even in the snow,
is a delight, as is hearing the muffled chug of their slow wingbeats
and their comically mournful honking as they slog through the air
just above the treetops.

They waddle through the streets at random, totally unfazed
by traffic, often imposing unintended street closings.
Charming at first, to be sure. Then not so much.

But the real problem is the poop, vast quantities of it everywhere
(like shit through a goose), rendering the sidewalks and the grass
navigable only with the greatest of care.
So forget about rolling on the grass, forget about playing tag or frisbee
or romping with your grandchildren. The parks, while providing
welcoming verdant oases for the eye, offer all the actual appeal
of cavorting in a minefield.

P.

Kind Of Gamey. But In A Good Way.

Boise has a surprisingly good selection of Asian, Mexican, Eastern European, and Indian markets. This is partly because of its status as an official refugee city. There are significant communities of Somali Bantus, Bosnians, Vietnamese, Iraqis, Indians, Chinese, and of course Latinos, with the restaurants and food shops that offer a taste of home for the pining immigrant. We've been able to find our favorite "Flying Lion Brand" fish sauce, as well as lots of other tasty treats.

Including this piece of deliciousness:

Once you've acquired the taste, you'll never be able to go back to your boring traditional foods again.

P.

Coping With The Cold.

Being new to dealing with truly frigid weather, we had to stock up on apparel that could get us through an Idaho winter. Of course, we had gloves and sweaters and jackets and wool socks, but we needed more. A lot more. So we hit REI and bought fleece jackets, vests, and thermal underwear (both silk and wool).

We also found some cold weather gear that we as long-time denizens of a subtropical climate zone had no idea even existed:

Fleece-lined waterproof snow boots rated to -48F.

Waterproof, Thinsulate-lined shoes. MMM-toasty.

And my personal favorite: flannel-lined jeans.
Like a cozy flannel blankie for your legs.

So we're prepared for the worst, but so far it has not happened. Other than the big dump in early December, we've seen little snow, and the little we have seen tends not to stick. Temps have been mostly in the high 30s to low 40s, dipping into the high 20s in the early morning. We've had a couple mornings in the teens, but mostly not. This means that the chore of scraping the ice off the windshield is usually minimal. (It's significantly more difficult when the temp is in the teens than it is when we're enjoying a brisk morning in the high 20s or low 30s.)

Most people tell us that this has been a mild winter, but others claim that this pattern has been typical for at least the last ten years. All we know is that it has been quite bearable, far less frigid than we had imagined, especially since we rarely spend a lot of time out in the cold. And it looks like the worst is over: this week we're enjoying bright sunlight and temps in the high 40s, practically balmy. Not that we wouldn't welcome a little heat wave, say 60-70, for a few days, but we're quite thankful that we've avoided the horror that has hammered the Midwest and the East.

P.

Gone Fishin'.

On Sunday, John, Michael, and I went fishing in the Boise River. I've known Michael for many years. He was the sous chef at Zuni Cafe when John worked there. He followed John to Maui and then to Boise (in a good way.) Now, he manages the apartment building where O. and I live for John.

The day was gray and cold, the temperature hovering just above freezing,
when we arrived at our first fishing spot.

There were lots of waterfowl, but no fish, except for one tiny trout
that Michael hooked.

The setting was beautiful, but the fishing was poor, so we moved on.

Now this is fishing!
The fire's legal, the beers aren't; while the pickup and the
highway bridge lend a certain redneck je ne sais quoi.

A little more scenic looking the other way.
John managed to catch three fish here. Michael caught
one more, and I caught nothing.

Except some lovely images.

P.

Winter's Bones.

One thing we're really enjoying about the winter here is the stark beauty of the leafless trees.

Our new neighborhood is in the most tree-filled part of

the City of Trees, so there are many of these magnificent
temporary skeletons to admire.

And we're also looking forward to the day that they begin
to regrow spring's flesh.

P.

John Blows Worms.

And he's proud of it.

Caught in the act.

P.