Schizocarps!

I found my old nature journal this week. My last entry, dated Fall 2008, inspired me to fulfill a dream I’ve been scheming for some time now. I woke up early Sunday morning to begin gathering schizocarps–those helicopters that fall from maple trees–from around my neighborhood. Thanks to the three friends who helped me gather these wonders throughout the day. I will still need to gather more before our next snow fall, if anyone else is interested in helping 🙂 First I’ll share the journal entry, then I’ll tell you about my dream that will soon become reality…

Fall 2008
I have become enamored by schizocarps. Seriously?! Billions of twirly-birds all falling to the earth in unison?! Billions of winged maples-in-embryo spiraling over the Northern Hemisphere. Billions over BYU’s campus alone.
 
One afternoon I gathered 4 grocery sacks of schizocarps. It took no more than two hours with 2 of us gathering. The street gutters were lined with them. The grass cupped them like children hoarding candy on Halloween. The sidewalks were blanketed with them- all facing the way of the wind.
 
In the half-inch cracks between cemented sidewalk slabs, schizocarps were packed tightly, nose down, just like an over-zealous litter of piglettes all trying to get a mouthful of teat.
 
I like that metaphor: the Earth as a giant mammary gland, a wellspring of mother’s milk. Countless numbers of tongue-like roots pressing earth-ward, pulling in moisture and nutrients, grabbing hold to the solid ground. Filling and stabilizing. Supporting and nurturing.
 
 

My plan is to  find a nice courtyard with high walls from which the thousands of schizocarps can be let loose. While the magical spirals descend, people will dance and frolic. Doesn’t it sound lovely? I’m excited to make it happen.

Let me know if you have a decent pile of schizocarps near your house.

 

fall must be a lover’s time.

After reading Emily Dickinson’s poem from my last post, I keep seeing yellow. Everywhere.

– golden amber beech leaves
– lemony yellow ginkgo leaves
– outer lining of the sunset
– etiolated tips of sprouts
– quince butter
– moon’s waning crescent
– under-exposed photo pigments on the Norway Maple
– Aspen…a whole clonal colony of them
– blistered plums
– carrot water
– squash
– reflection off the Great Salt Lake
– pile of Silver Maple leaves under a rope swing
– heart of a pansy
– unwatered grass
– apple’s patchwork skin
– Liquidambar styraciflua
– a schizocarp’s halo
– refracted light off praying mantis’ egg sac
– stained fingers from curried potatoes

 


Yellow.

Nature rarer uses yellow
Than another hue;
Saves she all of that for sunsets,–
Prodigal of blue,
Spending scarlet like a woman,
Yellow she affords
Only scantly and selectly,
Like a lover’s words.

Thank you, Emily Dickinson, for helping me to appreciate
the spectacular colors of this season.


1300 miles in 4 days.

This summer I had the road-trip of a lifetime with my now adult brothers who were little mysterious 10 and 12 year-olds when I moved out of the house, way-back-when. We also brought along my cousin who hadn’t been out of a big city for two years (he just returned home from an LDS mission in Korea).

In four days we saw Zion National Park, Coral Reef Sand Dunes, the Grand Canyon, Bryce, Calf Creek in Escalante, Capitol Reef, and Arches. (yeah, it was a little fast, but I’m glad my brothers could experience a little more of this amazing landscape before heading back to Wisconsin).

Thanks for the adventures Aaron, Jordan, and Craig!

Some highlights:

1. A reflection of the red rocks in the upper emerald pools, Zion.

2. An amazing sun-speckled spot to eat lunch… and feed a few mosquitos, Zion.

3. Coral Reef Sand Dunes, near Orderville.

4. Breathtaking sunrise, all to ourselves, at Imperial Point, Grand Canyon, AZ.

5. Hoodoos at Bryce Canyon National Park

6. Calf Creek, Escalante National Monument

7. Camping in Escalante, with my new car Artemis (more on her to come)…

8. Four elephants, Arches National Park

9. Delicate Arch (featured on Utah license plates), Arches.

10. And a striking full moon to guide us all the way back home!


1-1-11

For a few years now I’ve been welcoming in the new year by greeting the sun. This year at sunrise I hiked up a mountain with a dear friend…for eight hours…in 25 below zero weather. Stunning…in many ways.


hello from 30,000 feet above you

I’m currently flying tens of thousands of feet above planet earth. I wonder how many birds have flown higher than me? The highest soaring bird that we humans have recorded was a Ruppell’s Griffon vulture, who’s stunning flight met an untimely match with a jet engine at 37, 900 ft. How high was he capable of going?

Thanks to Delta’s free wi-fi I can at least show you some of the views such creatures are accustomed to!

The patterns of snow and cloud on the up-heaved earth are stunning.

“The surface of the Earth is the shore of the cosmic ocean.

From it we have learned most of what we know.

Recently, we have waded a little out to sea,

enough to dampen our toes

or, at most, wet our ankles.

The water seems inviting.

The ocean calls.

So.”

 

-Carl Sagan

 


Summer Memory Stroll 2010

Fall is here in full force (nod to the full moon on the same day as the fall equinox)! While I anxiously await jumping into my first leaf-pile of the year, I thought I’d just give a little recap of some summer highlights.

  • Summer began as any well-respecting Wisconsinite might wish: with snow!

  • It did a number on my tomato plants, but my harvest is still plentiful. Here’s a look into my bag after a recent harvest from my community garden, and a photo I treasure of my cantaloupe babies. They are definitely adolescents now, but are still in need of the vine.

  • Early this summer I was privileged to be present when my sister was called and set-apart as a full-time missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She will spend the next year-and-a-half living on a small northern island in the Philippians, serving the people and teaching them about how the gospel of Jesus Christ can bring added happiness and peace to their lives. Here’s a picture from the last time I saw her, as well as one she just sent home:

  • While the summer was still green and lush, I spend as many evening after work as possible roaming through the mountains:

  • Here’s a shot from one hike with my friend Kelsey- just days before she took off on a mission to Florida:

  • In June, my work flew me out to San Francisco to do some training at the nation’s oldest science museum, the Exploratorium. The PIE (Playful Inventive Exploration) training was hands-down some of the most inspiring  education I’ve ever received. More to come shortly on how we’ve been using that training to inspire more innovation and creativity from the middle-schoolers I work with. Here is a picture of me outside the museum, inside the workshop space, and beside some lovely sea lions down on pier 39:
  • I flew on an overnight flight from CA to WI to spend a week in the great outdoors with my dear family. Here we all are under uncle Bob’s tarp. The thunderstorms helped us to get extra cozy!
  • I spent Independence Day with my brothers, sister-in-law, and nieces at the Bees Stadium. Nothing like thousands of people cuddled on blankets, watching small explosions in the sky:
  • I also spent some time exploring natural hotsprings:
  • Discovered a new species of maple:
  • (kidding about the maple….well maybe. Have you ever heard of a variegated maple?)
  • Joined a group of daring souls on a search for the infamous kokanee:
  • Saw some sunsets that literally brought me to my knees:
  • Traveled through Utah wilderness with dear WI friends and family:
  • And just spent at much time as possible gleaning from the wisdom of dear Mother Earth:

Painting with the moon

Light is fascinating. In honor of the Perseid Meteor Shower‘s peak tonight, I wanted to share some of my playing and learning and loving of light. This summer I came across something I wrote back in the early 90’s:

So I’ve liked bright things for a long time. Quite possibly my favorite bright thing is the moon. (Some day I’ll probably name a daughter Luna). Recently I was lying on my crusty grass, shooting hopelessly inadequate photos of a full moon, and I made a discovery. A long shutter speed makes is possible to paint with the moon! Here’s a little collage of a sampling from my first round of paintings (I’m particularly proud of the letter “A” that I drew):

The only reason I can say that the moon ranks higher on my list than the sun is that they really are the same light source. One of my assignments at work is to help design an exhibit about photosynthesis. Richard Feynman has been a great source of inspiration for this project. I recommend you take 4 and a half minutes and listen to this Nobel Prize-winning physicist talk about light. He is a brilliant teacher. The sun, moon, plants, fire…it’s all pretty similar when we look through the lens of energy. And, some notable text would add that the same light of the sun, moon, and stars are fueled by a more transcendent light. “And the light which shineth, which giveth you light, is through him who enlighteneth your eyes, which is the same light that quickeneth your understandings; Which light proceedeth forth from the presence of God to fill the immensity of space— The light which is in all things, which giveth life to all things, which is the law by which all things are governed, even the power of God who sitteth upon his throne, who is in the bosom of eternity, who is in the midst of all things” (D&C 88:11-13).

A week ago, camped along Bullfrog Basin at Lake Powell, I captured some images that rival my moon paintings. Four small children, siblings, were giggling as they ran in the dark parking lot. Each one had a small headlamp.

That same night I captured my first lightning bolt in film. I love light.


Ode to Ruth Stout

My fledgling seedlings are getting so big and strong. I am looking forward to the day when I can set them free outside, and they can bask in an uninhibited stream of photons.

In anticipation of the approaching planting day, I wanted to introduce you to one of my personal heros: Ruth Stout. She is renown intuitive gardener, famous for her deep layers of mulch, and her quick wit.

enjoy!


Rock Gazing

I feel pretty lucky that my work takes me to the far reaches of the state. Our most recent stops for The Leo on Wheels were Escalante and Tropic. Both high schools (spanning 7th to 12th grade) had maybe 100 students, with only one science teacher for the entire school. The combination of small town charm and heart-stopping wilderness made me really reconsider possibilities for future places to live. Let me show you some highlights:

Our truck and trailer bathing in the morning light, parked between the school where we worked and the gas station that fed us. (Most cafes and restaurants were closed for the season).

This is what the landscape looked like for miles of driving. Nothing but geologic history on all sides. I have never had a harder time keeping my eyes on the road while driving.

We learned that the air is so clear here during the winter (when inversions are trapping pollution in the big cities) that it’s possible to see up to 200 miles in distance…or an area the size of New Hampshire!

AND (!!) We were invited to watch the Escalante High’s theater production… a captivating murder mystery.

We also visited Bryce Canyon. I had no idea that place was so magical. Looking at this erosion art felt like a combination of wandering through the ruins of an ancient civilization and cloud-gazing. Here is the castle where I would set up my homestead:

And behind this bush is the cathedral where I would go to worship, and probably yodel too:

And deep in this cavern is where I would store my seeds over the winter:

And here is the daddy-long-leg tree that will teach us to make music with the earth.

And this is where our wise ancestors wait to tell us stories:

And here is the guest house where you can stay if you come visit me:

And when we awaken in the morning, we will use pine-needle brushes to paint with the sun:

Wouldn’t that be lovely?