Snowy White - Muddy Fingers PATCHED
The ornaments and decoration of the gods is a much debated issue. While some organisers in Mumbai opt for a glitzy look done with multi-coloured tinsel, others prefer the snowy white filigree work done in shola (the pith of river rushes) which, besides exquisite craftsmanship, possesses an ethereal kind of beauty.
Snowy White - Muddy Fingers
The warmth of the sunshine was finally beginning to matter after a long, snowy stretch of winter in this tiny mountain town. Although it was only mid-morning, already the roads were just damp instead of icy, a true sign that spring was quickly approaching. Big blue sky, sunshine and snow patches melting back several more inches each day meant the seasons were changing. Most of the gutters were filled with muddy ice that refused to melt until the very last few days of winter. Still, mud is a welcome sight at the end of every frozen season.
Tuesday Trivia Time! Two species we commonly spot in Greater Farallones National Marine Sanctuary are the snowy egret and the great egret. How do you tell the two apart? Which one is this? (Photo Credit: Sara Heintzelman, NOAA/GFNMS. Image description: white bird with a black beak and yellow feet perched in a treetop.)
12/25/17 - Happy Marine Life Monday! While we don't have a snowy white winter along the California coast, we do have the Snowy Plover (Charadrius alexandrinus)! This small, pale plover has a tan back and white underparts which help it blend into its sandy habitat. It has suffered a major decline in population due to recreational activities on beaches, habitat loss from development and predation. The nest of a Snowy Plover is just a small indent in the sand and often goes unnoticed. These small birds flee from their nest when frightened and may not return for hours; their eggs can get crushed or eaten while they are gone. Tread carefully the next time you might be walking through plover habitat! (Photo Credit: Jessica Weinberg McClosky, NPS)
On a sunset trip down the Daintree River, I see buttercup wattled plovers picking their way along the banks, and kingfishers the color of molten amber dive-bombing neatly for their supper. As darkness falls and the rain arrives, puffs of snowy white egrets billow into the air. Hundreds of them fill the lavender skies, making their way to their roost site for the night, where they'll cling to the trees like Christmas baubles. As the sun drops farther, casting oil-slick shadows across the water, I discern the shape of something reptilian gliding slowly by, propelled by an enormous armored tail. Two eyes emerge, then vanish, like falling crescent moons. But the crocodile hangs there, still beneath the surface. He has been here longer than any of us. Longer than the trees, even. This is his land too.
The black-and-white television was flickering with snowy images. I fiddled with the rabbit ears, stabilized the image and asked him for some foil from the galley. Wrapped in aluminum flags, the dipole antenna worked better. Switching channels back and forth from New Orleans to Biloxi, I settled on WDSU from New Orleans. 041b061a72