There are limits to everything

I’m taking an online course in programming using Python. (Which, in case you’re wondering, refers not to the snake, but the comedic group. Software developers are such droll types.)

At any rate, this particular course is offered via Rice University, and they’ve provided a Python compiler (or whatever you call it; enabler?) that operates online, so you don’t have to download and install software to write your little Hello, world programs.

I got a kick out of the fact that the Python environment will work with Firefox, Chrome and Safari, on any operating system. But not Internet Explorer.

Because:

Critter control

One more point about my visit to the Gamble Garden in Palo Alto. Evidently they have a problem with raccoons. I noticed a couple of these signs out in various places:

Then, as I was having a wander around the rose garden (where one of the signs appeared), I heard this little chirruping sound. Very quiet, but repeated. Eventually I noticed a little fenced-around crate in the shade of a rose bush. And, whaddaya know—an abated raccoon:

(Yes, it’s a lousy photo. I did not want to spook the little guy beyond what he already was by getting closer.)

I can’t find out any information about what’s going on, or why the critter was there in the daylight. They might have been awaiting a professional who would relocate it.

Although Santa Clara County officially disapproves of relocation; you actually are not permitted to relocate captured wildlife without a permit. Yes, a permit.

Their advice is: this is the Peninsula, there’s wildlife here, get used to it. All their suggestions revolve around you not doing anything to attract them to your particular location: lock up your pets, lock up your pet food, block any holes to attics or basements or garages.

I had enough experience with raccoons in my attic in Reston to understand that they are cute in the abstract, but can be incredibly uncharming in person. So I hope everything works out for them and the gardeners.

Great heaviness of this city

Wow—filed under the heading of reporting the bloody obvious, apparently it’s big news that Richard III, last of the Yorkist kings of England, “died brutally during battle.”

Viz.: he sustained 11 wounds from knife, sword and/or battle axe spike.

We know this because scientists have been examining his remains in the past couple of years, since they were uncovered in a parking lot in Leicester.

Hello? Battle fought in 1485? Weapons basically swords, daggers, battle axes and pikes? And leader of the opposing (losing) army?

Of course Henry Tudor’s men were going to make sure the man was dead. Everyone would have wanted to take a hack at him, like Caesar at the Forum.

But, I’ll tell you, what this does is underscore the description of their loss that the people of York put on record at the time:

“King Richard, late mercifully reigning over us, was through great treason…piteously slain and murdered, to the great heaviness of this city.”

All abuzz

In addition to all those glorious dahlias, the Gamble Garden in Palo Alto also has a rose garden. Only a few varieties were blooming, but between them and the other plants, there were enough flowers to interest a whole lot of bees.

Given that bees are in the decline, it was really lovely to pause there and just watch them at work. I mean, the place just hummed with bees going about their business. You didn’t quite hear them, but the place almost undulated with their activity.

Go, bees, go!

Bonsai republic

You may be aware that there’s a whole thing going on in the UK: Scottish voters go to the polls on Thursday to decide whether to stay in the, um, UK. They’re not feeling the love from Westminster, so they’re basically grabbing their balls and going home.

(Biteback Publishing)

Actually, from what I’ve read, the Scots sound like a pack of petulant teenagers who are demanding the right to use the family car but are subsequently outraged at being expected to pay for the petrol themselves.

They already have a good deal of autonomy—a parliament and stuff—but apparently the first minister Alex Salmond and leaders of the Scottish National Party (SNP) think that’s not enough. They want independence. Or a form of it. Partial independence, really. Well, the kind of independence where they get to pick the bits they keep all to themselves and also the bits that Britain should continue sharing with them.

Rather like getting the keys to the car and the Esso charge card.

By which they seem to mean: they want to own all their assets (like North Sea oil deposits, and whisky, and fish; although, now that I think of it, the majority of the enterprises in oil extraction, distilling and fishing are not Scottish-owned) exclusively, and to join the European Union as an independent country and whatnot, but retain things like the pound as their currency.

(I don’t know how that works, really. The last part of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and etc. that broke off was the Republic of Ireland. Which had to pony up for its own currency, its own social services, its own defense and all the rest of it. As you do, when you’re an independent state that isn’t the Vatican.)

Which brings me to the part interesting to a military historian. Amidst all the promises of a land of milk and honey (well, lager and fried Mars bars), Salmond is decidedly not mentioning what they’re planning on doing for defense. You know—army, navy, air force, coast guard. Are they going to reach into their sporrans and pull out a few divisions, a battle fleet and three squadrons of Typhoons?

Or are they planning on having Mother England do that job for them…like leasing the Royal Navy? If so, who would pay for that? Or are they going to contract with G4S for those services? Because those guys do such a good job, and at such reasonable rates…

Or is the strategy to line up guys in kilts along the coasts to moon any invading forces or smugglers of drugs, guns and humans? Because that worked for Mel Gibson, and the SNP’s ideas seem to be based in the same sort of reality.

The fact of the matter is that defending yourself as a nation costs a few bob these days, but not defending yourself is even more expensive. Perhaps they’re just banking on the hope that, even after they stomp off in a huff, their former mates in the UK will look after them in this regard for just, you know, auld lang syne.

(In fact, they’ve announced that post-Britain Scotland will be nuke-free. Which means that the UK’s nuclear subs will have to leave Scottish bases (destination unclear). And those installations will shut down, along with all the jobs and local economies that depend on those bases.)

This being the (currently) United Kingdom, there’s also some question, apparently about the monarchy. Does the house of Windsor continue to reign over Scotland? Does HM have the same relationship with the Scots that she does with the Canadians, the Australians and the South Africans? (Wait—does she have a relationship with the South Africans?) Or are they going to reach down into their gastro-intestinal system and hawk up a new/old royal line? Can people put in a bid for the honor? They could put on a TV show called Who Wants to Be a Queen? That could be quite the revenue-spinner.

Or are they just going to crown Sean Connery and be done with it?

What will they use for the crown?

Scotland going indie-prod has implications in the Greater Scheme of Things, of course. Like—what about our nuclear subs in the area? And does it become part of NATO? If so, in what capacity? Because, as one US defense analyst has pointed out, we do not need yet another freakin’ bonsai army to deal with. (Okay, he didn’t use the modifier “freakin’”.)

What about international companies operating in one country (UK) now, but who will be faced with two sets of regulations and tax systems, with or without a currency differential? (Or is the SNP just going to offer some kind of tax haven status to lure them in? If so, what are they going to do for revenues?)

There’ve been rumbles from various financial institutions and corporations to the effect that they’re not wild about this particular unknown, and they are not buying into the goldeneh medina promised by the SNP, so they might be pulling in their horns. Salmond has stamped his foot and tossed his teddy about that.

It is interesting to see what a tempest has been suddenly stirred up by this issue in the Conservative government presently in power in Westminster. Because up until about two weeks ago, it was as though they had no notion that this was even a thing, a real thing, I mean.

So I can understand why the Scots might have got their kilts in a twist, to the point of tying that little bundle in a tartan on the end of the stick and heading off into the gloaming. But honestly, if everyone in the world behaved like that, we’d have nothing but …Congress.

Well, I guess we’ll see. Polls have this one turning on a few votes (depending on which side has commissioned the poll, of course). Leaders of the UK government have been flapping around the glens, promising voters the family car keys and scaring the sheep, but it could go either way, assuming that people haven't been taking the piss with the pollsters. (If it fails this time, though, it'll come up again in a few years. This independence thing is like influenza.)

Still, you might want to stock up on smoked salmon and Lagavulin. Just for while they’re sorting out all the details.

Gratitude Monday: Flowers that bloom in the fall, tra-la

Today I am grateful for the civic generosity of a wealthy woman who gave her family estate to the city of Palo Alto, and for the community that maintains it and opens it to everyone. Last week I needed a boost, and the Elizabeth Gamble Garden gave it to me.

It’s basically a park, on the former Gamble estate, with a variety of gardens. When I went, there were vegetables (tended by the Roots & Shoots crowd—third-graders from a local school and other volunteers), sunflowers and some roses out. But most of all (for me) there were dahlias, it being September.

Here’s what I mean:

And:

And:

I noticed last year, at the Golden Gate Park Dahlia Dell, that there are like a gazillion types of dahlias, and even in this relatively small area I saw many varieties. There’s something about that—and their colors and shapes and the way they soak up light and radiate splendor—that really brightens my outlook.

So I’m really grateful that this park is close by, and that a friend suggested it to me.

Oh, all right, then; one more: