The calendar recounts biotic and physical happenings, both natural and unnatural, that most commonly remind me of how and why I live here. Species common names are the ones most familiar and descriptive to me, and in some places I give alternatives. Scientific equivalents, the most recent I know of, are in the appendix and index, although in a very few cases my experience with identity differs from others. I do not name human neighbors, who were very kind in talking with me and showing me things but had no idea I was writing about them. I also omit place names or keep them general to protect privacy.
Temperatures are in degrees Fahrenheit.
Weather is from my home forest which averages four degrees warmer and ten inches more precipitation annually than the official reporting station. That's because the ravine is part of a heat island created by suburban structures and activity and, at 650 feet maximum elevation, is 200 feet higher on an escarpment that lifts moisture-laden winds into the city's face, triggering additional rain. Although this play is unique in the universe as far as we know, its planetary theater, local stages, seasonal scenes, and actors are made of star dust like everything else. Humanity began to separate itself from nature long before the industrial age, certainly, but its impact took an unprecedented major step with the widespread burning of fossil fuels.