Of creepy, crawly things and coyote urine

I am massaging a bag of coyote urine and wondering what series of events had brought me to this moment. The small green bag, ordered online from Amazon, emitted a faint, not unpleasant minty smell. I gave my little dog a whiff and he was verrrrrry interested.

Guess there’s more going on in that little bag than I can sense.

This is good, because it has a job to do: scare off the varmint that has called our backyard home.

The long warm days of summer and mild winters of California do more than draw people from around the country. Critters large and small creep and crawl around my home, wanting to move in with us.

So far, I have battled multiple incursions of ants, pantry moths and spiders. I relocated a little gopher that burrowed in our front lawn and peeked out at me curiously as I turned the hose on his cozy home. I’ve faced a horror story of maggots that spilled from our outdoors garbage bin one day.

And there’s a war going on in my garden between aphids and ladybugs that’s advancing to a critical point.

This is not to say that other places don’t have invasions of wildlife. I’ve heard of a bear break-in in Alaska, we suffered skunks and raccoons in Idaho, and there was that sleepless summer of house crickets when we lived in Las Vegas.

Those were rarities. In my new home, every season unleashes its own flurry of species and I’ve learned to welcome some -- such as lizards, hummingbirds and doves -- even as I repel others.

I draw the line at possums. For weeks, we’ve been stumped in how to get rid of it. It ignores my dog’s frantic barking, my thumps on the fence where he hides, and whatever we can (softly) rain down on it to encourage it to move on. It just doesn’t care. Just over the fence, in our yard, is water and a smorgasbord of garden vegetables.

Thus, the urine, which I’ve been assured will do the trick, making it believe a more serious predator is lurking.

We'll see. I sure hope coyote urine doesn't attract a whole new slew of critters to my door.

Succulence

Californians love their succulents. 

Drought-tolerant, these tough little plants have found their way into my heart.

What’s not to love? They are forgiving when you forget to water them, can handle our mild winters and soak up the fierce summer heat.

They also are fast growers and friendly – plant them close together and they thrive. Mix species and they love it.

Planting them has become a new art form.

It’s hard to resist picking up a new pot and packing it full of new (to me) chubby-leafed varieties. Their names draw me in: hens-and-chicks, jade plant, ivory tower, black rose and topsy turvy.

My patio is filling up with quite a flock of these guys.

Daytripping

The morning promises a blistering sunbaked day inland. I can’t stand the thought of it. The escape is too alluring – and close by. California’s long slender shape means the coast is never far away.

Not like our chunkier shaped neighbor to the north, Oregon, where 8 hours can separate east and west borders.

Today, I’m thankful once again for San Francisco and its misty salt-coated breezes. A sweater is needed as I let the Pacific lap at my feet.

The sand pushes through my toes as I look out at the fog-shrouded water and watch ships go by.

It’s hard to believe that scarcely 85 miles away, it’s 30 degrees warmer.

I could do this all day.

Beer Dog

Someone tells me recently that there are no new ideas, just ideas that recycle, improve and grow popular again. I suppose.

But, honestly: bikes, beer and dogs. I’m overjoyed.

We fight our way to the bar to place our orders after browsing a decent menu of choices. IPAs and a light blonde lead the way to a chewy black stout. I’m distracted from my beer by a dog bellied up to the bar next to its owner. A yipping erupts from two small bodies underneath a stool further down.

We are no exception. Our weekend guest is a curly goldendoodle and she accompanies us, thoroughly entertained by the action around her.

It’s the idea of it more than the place itself. Bike Dog Brewing Company in West Sacramento is small, crowded and loud. Bikes are part of the equation in that the microbrewery owners love bicycling in their spare time. Bikes are prominent in the décor.

Bike Dog occupies a nondescript space in a light industrial area. Once through the front door, however, the atmosphere improves greatly with a regular bar and tables that are open to the brewery’s vats.

In the back, a large metal roll-up door leads to an alley where a food truck provides burgers, tacos or other bar food.

It’s a winning combination. This place has joined the rapidly growing microbrewery fad that threatens to overbuild and fade.

To me, this is part of the charm too. Hopping in and out of crazes is fun. Don’t tell me that history has already provided this intersection of beer, dogs and bikes.

I’m just enjoying the moment.

Drought-stricken Berryessa

Can a place be a ghost town without actually being a town?

I found Lake Berryessa to have that creepy vibe. Closed-up businesses along the roadside, dry lake beds, terse-spoken store owner and, oh, those squirrels (more on that one later).

Still, there’s a quiet beauty to this lake that lies in the foothills between Napa Valley and Winters. If you’re looking for some alone time, there’s plenty to be had here. Surrounded by dusty hills, dotted with with oak trees and Gray pines, the lake has been hit hard by the ongoing California drought. Whole sections of the lake are now scrubby meadows.

We first stopped at the Turtle Rock store to grab some drinks and munchies for our afternoon at the lake. Inside was a jaw-dropping sight. Money dangled from the ceiling and walls, and most other surfaces. Ones, fives, even one $50 bill that I saw. I took out my cell phone and snapped a few photos.

“You’re taking a lot of pictures. Did you want something?”

The friendly greeting was from a flat-expressioned woman I guessed to be the owner.

“Snacks,” I responded.

She pointed us in the right direction and we loaded up with overpriced items. My advice here? Definitely stop by to view the inside of this place, but beware the owner.

Next was Smittle Creek, which our hiking guide had called one of the best hikes at Berryessa. On a different day, this could be a beautiful hike. July during a drought isn’t the right time.

It was dry, dusty, barren and hot.

Almost immediately, the brush around us started moving. There were squirrels everywhere, scurrying and staring at us. It wasn’t just me who felt, well, a little outnumbered, and watched.

Steady, I told myself, squirrels aren’t carnivorous.

In any case, there was plenty of traditional squirrel food around.

We saw acorns embedded into pines everywhere. At first, we puzzled over this – every pine tree was riddled with holes that were filled with acorns – but later the mystery was solved. Acorn Woodpeckers are the culprits, drilling the holes and then tucking their treats away for later.

 I doubt I'll return soon to Lake Berryessa, but still, there's no better day for me than being outdoors with my family.