It has been some time since I posted a blog. This is partly because this is the time of year with the fewest plants in bloom. And then there were all those other distractions. Anyway, I was glad when Dave suggested we make a trip up the Catalina Mountains.

It was too cool to go the higher elevations, so we went to Molino Canyon Vista, just over 4 miles up the Catalina Highway. It was a beautiful day, with mostly blue sky. We found a spot overlooking the stream, listening to the sounds of water tumbling over rocks.

We have had over an inch of rain since the year began, and the water was flowing past at a good pace. We noticed how bubbles form at the base of tiny waterfalls. This meant that there was a continuous trail of bubbles in the part of the stream closest to us. Then we noticed a white patch of fine bubbles, where an eddy had formed just down stream from some large boulders.

For some reason, possibly because, inside, we are still young boys, we wondered what would happen if we tossed a pebble into the midst of the eddy. What would happen to this white island of tiny bubbles in its middle? We were about 40 or 50 feet away from the stream, but still Dave was able to make a few direct hits. It took under two seconds for the raft of tiny bubbles to reform. Then they looked as if nothing had happened. More pebbles at the edges and middle all had similar results. This little patch, looking for all the world like whipped cream, though changing constantly was still remarkably stable, and no matter how many times it was shattered, it easily and quickly regrouped.

Finally Dave walked down to the edge of the stream and dropped a ten-inch wide rock in the middle of the spot, shattering it into a thousand little islands of bubbles. This time it took a little longer for the island to reform, maybe as many as eight seconds.

I got out my binoculars to see what was going on. The constant flow of bubbles from tiny waterfalls upstream, meant that some were captured by the eddy. On touching the edge of the island, large bubbles broke down into smaller ones, until they formed part of a white carpet of them. When we left, the patch of white was still there, and we were glad we had spent time fascinated by its ability to survive pebbles tossed by men who are still boys at heart.