Rediscovering my winter roots

Photo by Dave Husic, Week 1 of Feb, 2014

Where I grew up, winters were long. Snowy boots and encrusted mittens handmade-by-grandma lined the vestibule. Wet socks were exchanged for a new pair on a regular basis, and rosy cheeks were a better shade than any rouge could ever match.

I haven’t been outdoors much in the past few weeks. Not with a hectic schedule of work, snowstorms, preparing for conference presentations, a bad cold, too much travel. Poor justification, I know; I should take care of myself better. Isn’t that I what I teach my students?

It is easy to get caught up in the winter griping with colleagues and friends, or to make excuses about aching knees and aging bones. Wouldn’t want to fall and break anything. When we do have winter here in eastern PA it is too often punctuated by ice storms.

Lately, treacherous walking conditions have been the norm, especially if you have a very energetic dog on a leash. It reminds me of the days of beginning ski lessons on the bunny slopes being pull by the tow ropes. But then, the only casualties were rope burns if you didn’t have leather ski gloves. And, of course, we knew not to wear scarves that could get tangled in the towline.

Now I think of broken legs, or backs.  Have I become a fuddy-duddy, or just smarter?

I have a bad habit of checking Facebook before I start the day, you know, just to see what’s happening and who might have a birthday. Yesterday, someone had posted journal entry by Thoreau from 160 years ago to the date:

Thoreau's Journal: 12-Feb-1854

To make a perfect winter day like this, you must have a clear, sparkling air, with a sheen from the snow, sufficient cold, little or no wind; and the warmth must come directly from the sun. It must not be a thawing warmth. The tension of nature must not be relaxed. The earth must be resonant if bare, and you hear the lisping tinkle of chickadees from time to time and the unrelenting cold-steel scream of a jay, unmelted, that never flows into a song, a sort of wintry trumpet, screaming cold; hard, tense, frozen music, like the winter sky itself; in the blue livery of winter’s band. It is like a flourish of trumpets to the winter sky. There is no hint of incubation in the jay’s scream. Like the creak of a cart-wheel. There is no cushion for sounds now. They tear our ears.

Oh man…why have I been complaining? I love winter. And what a beautiful description Mr. H.D.T. We haven’t had many perfect winter days in quite a few years. I and my zone 6 and 7 plants have done just fine in what used to be zone 5. But I have been missing something too.

My goodness, after watching Chasing Ice the other night and seeing what Mr. Balog will do, bad knees and all, to make sure the world knows what is happening to our glaciers, I don’t think I have too much to complain about. Why haven’t I been outside? Who knows if we will even have winters in the future when those glaciers have departed.

So yesterday was the day that I was going to break away from the routine, and the excuses. With a pending storm that would dump about a foot of new snow, and likely some fresh ice, walking won’t get any easier this week. My get-out-of-jail card was a trip to the dentist to repair a chipped filling.

I snuck home early, a full hour and a half before dark. I bundled up and asked Revi the Retriever if he too was tired of being cooped up (silly question for a flat coated). He may not take Best of Breed in Westminster, or any dog show for that matter. But he has boundless enthusiasm, can follow a trail that is days old, and is about the happiest creature I have encountered in life.

Walking with Revi in fall (he's tough to photograph against the snow)

I was trying to walk in the footsteps of the previous person who ventured into our back 40 (Dave, most likely) and that worked -- sort of. If I walked on unchartered paths, I broke through the icy crust, making the only noise in the calm-before-the-storm woods.

In his enthusiasm, Revi plowed me over. It is difficult to get up with a 70 pound dog on top of you and snow that keeps caving in beneath. There was that moment when I remembered that I am no longer young and no one knew where I was.

Anyone who has lived where snow is frequent knows the look of the sky before a big storm. It has a color – somewhere between lavender and gray and the color of azure butterflies.  My friend Julie recently described it as “Mood Indigo” (1):

We walk to this place

where blue hills meet steely sky

The mood's indigo.

Before we get back

darkness will fall in the woods.

Snow lights our path home.

Perfect, Julie, just perfect.

After reaching the old meadow at the top of the rise, Revi and I saw the diffuse sun over our blue hill – Blue Mountain, the Kittatinny Ridge – just before it slid behind the terrain.  But unlike Julie, I didn’t want to head back down the icy trail in darkness, so we couldn’t linger.

Back down, safely, we grabbed the bird feeders for restocking before the next round of bad weather. Earlier in the day, I had heard both male cardinals and tufted titmice singing their spring calls. Silly birds. Them gals aren’t going to be interested in this cold weather. Trust me on that one. I don’t think I could wear enough layers in the evening during this time of year.

Looking back towards the west, the sun is almost gone now, the clouds a bit thicker and the sky a bit icier blue-gray than before. Snow’s a-comin’. I wish I could paint the colors of the winter, highlighting our gingerbread-like house with its fresh snow white icing, the lovely shadows and textures in the snow. I can’t, but I know people who could though.

Our gingerbread house

Back inside, it was time to strip the wet mittens and socks, and line them up like I did when I was young. It was time to settle in, and wait for the storm, and maybe even complain a little about winter.


1) http://juliezickefoose.blogspot.com/2014/02/mood-indigo.html

We all need some spirit nurturing sometimes

I have been feeling a bit glum lately, not inspired in my teaching (largely due to unreceptive audiences), and disappointed in this country's lackluster leadership with respect to many issues, especially the environment. But today, I am catching up on reading some articles and blog posts, including some by Jennifer Browdy de Hernandez. 

http://bethechange2012.wordpress.com/2014/01/31/respecting-our-elders/

http://bethechange2012.wordpress.com/2014/02/01/we-are-all-noah-now/

I want to thank Jennifer for reminding me that, even when we are in a lull, we must remember Pete Seeger and Wangari Maathai and Nelson Mandela – inspirational elders who have all left us now – left us with unfinished missions that must be continued. I realize that if those of us who teach today’s youth don’t continue to march along in this duty, then things will continue to grow more dire. 

Students in my classes don’t know these important names, much less why these individuals are so revered. It is our job to teach these students, to engage them, to inspire them. Jennifer expresses it well when she notes that “we are all Noah now.” I think this is true whether we are trying to save biodiversity or humanity or important history and culture.

When I responded to one of Jennifer’s blog posts with similar comments to what I wrote above, I said that we must continue to "trudge along in this duty", rather than "march along". I was thinking about trudge -- as in making slow progress despite hard work -- rather than considering the task as drudgery, but she was quick to respond with the following:

Diane, have you read Charles Eisenstein’s latest book, The More Beautiful World Our Hearts Know Is Possible? He notes how important it is for those of us who are awake to the ecological crisis to connect with each other–it’s not “preaching to the choir,” it’s nurturing each other’s spirits so that we can continue solidly and strongly in our chosen paths. I am glad my blog posts served that function for you today!

I feel very lucky with the students I’m working with this semester. Remarkably passionate and aware young people. With your “unreceptive audience,” how can you get under their skin and find the sweet spot where you will be able to wake them up from their media-induced sluggishness? Sometimes it happens when you dare to reveal your own vulnerability, your fears and grief and love. I hate to hear of you “trudging.” See what you can do to dance in front of the class, and get them up and dancing with you!

She is correct. Trudging is the wrong way to think about this, although my discouragement was worsened by my experiences this week. I am just back from the National Council on Science and the Environment conference on "Climate Solutions" having taken some students with me. I tried desperately to get the students to network given the many influential people who were in attendance: Kathryn Sullivan, the first American woman to walk in space (who is now at NOAA), James Hansen and Richard Alley (great climate scientists), Gina McCarthy (the current EPA director), and many other researchers and policymakers. How could they not be inspired?

On the way home, as we crossed over the Millard E. Tydings Memorial Bridge in Maryland that spans the Susquehanna River(dedicated, by the way, by John F. Kennedy eight days before he was assassinated), a bald eagle flew over the car hood - so close you could see into its eyes. Yet they couldn't be bothered to look up from their smart phones since they had important messages about the "100-days-to-graduation party" they would head to when we returned to campus. As they party their way towards graduation, I wonder what their longer-term plans are. And I wonder why I care so much about their future. So yes, Jennifer, some spirit nurturing is indeed needed at the moment. 

Thank goodness for some words of encouragement from another foot soldier in this effort! On Monday, I must try to remember to dance again.

Holiday Season Reflections on 2013

I learned a while back that getting Christmas cards or letters out in a timely fashion doesn’t work so well when the academic semester runs until so close to the holiday season. While students stress about exams and semester grades, I am frazzled about trying to figure out what to get family members for Christmas (especially those that live 1000 miles away) and whether I can get the house cleaned up and decorated. And then there is grading, too much grading. It’s not that I don’t think of friends and family. I do. A lot. And it stresses me out that I end up setting aside things that are really important to me because of other deadlines.

So here I am on New Year’s Eve, now New Year's Day, writing a holiday letter for the first time in many years. I can’t even recall how many years it has been. There is much to catch people up on (unless we are Facebook friends). Mostly, I will focus on this past year, which had a lot of “firsts” for us. Here goes…

Last year at this time, the household drama included the stress that goes along with college applications. Applications are due, but then there is the dreadfully long lull while the applicant and their family wait. And wait. More on that topic later.

In the 2012-13 year, I served as the co-chair for the Center of Investigation on Sustainability on campus. We hosted a number of speakers and events on topics such as environmental toxins, the future of fracking, local foods, the role of indigenous people in the sustainable movement, and “just” sustainability and urban design. Speakers included Sandra Steingraber, Winona LaDuke, Julian Agyeman, and others – all apparently controversial to someone or another as I learned. I found the talks inspiring; I hope that the students in the audience learned a thing or two that they won’t hear in the media. Lafayette College also had a good array of speakers this year including Jane Goodall, Jimmy Carter, and Tony Blair. It was quite special to get to meet Ms. Jane!

As part of the campus sustainability theme, I was asked to lead a service-learning trip over spring break to the Grand Canyon. The first week of March is not necessarily the time to head to places like this, and I was glad I convinced the student-life planners (who didn’t go) that tent camping was not a good idea. We stayed in the labor cabins at the park instead – with cooking facilities and some heat! We had a wonderful experience doing tree and limb removal (damage from insect infestations and RV’s), helping with the development of some sustainable expansion projects for visitor services, and serving as secret shoppers in the restaurants. A fairly significant snow storm hit the region at the end of our week, making the drive back to the airport in Phoenix a bit hairy. Seeing the canyon with snow was a first, and an experience that I recommend. Watching the storm roll in the canyon from the watchtower at Desert View Point on the east end of the park was spectacular. However, being solely responsible for a group of undergraduates (including cooking with a limited budget, driving, etc.) for a week is not something I would advise. I politely said no when they asked me to do it again this coming March.

Dave and the boys had coinciding spring breaks later in March and they headed to warm southern Florida. Warm enough to stay in tents, good birding, and no snow! Disappointingly, I don’t think my break will ever be at the same time as Dave’s.

The college acceptance/rejection letters and emails came while they were away, and I had to anxiously wait until Corey’s return to hear the verdict. He was accepted to several really top-notch schools, the most surprising of which was Harvard. Not that Corey didn’t have good credentials, he did. But I think he applied there somewhat on a whim, not necessarily thinking he would get in. So on the first weekend of April, I was headed for my first trip to the Boston area and to Harvard Yard. I kept thinking he won’t like it. Too urban. Too snotty. Too far! But, like it he did. Then reality hit. Too expensive. The one school in his list with need-based only financial aid. Dang. So much for Dave and I retiring anytime soon!

At least the stress was over. Or so I thought. But to actually be admitted, Corey had to continue to do well in his last semester of high school. His parents weren’t worried, but he was. And then there were a slew of very difficult placement tests over the summer. I saw the readings and prompt for the writing test and concluded that many of my students ready to graduate from college might not do so well on that one. Graduation was in May, and Corey graduated at the top of the class, raking in a number of awards and honors. Our first child, now done with high school. When did he get to be an 18-year old adult?

Joren finished his first year of high school, also recording a stellar performance. We will soon start the cycle of PSATs, SATs, applications, etc. again, all too soon. He loves computer programming (a self-learner on this), chess, jazz music, Chinese, Spanish, and all things Tolkien. Both he and Corey ran cross-country (Corey made it to states in his last year) and they both ran in track. And we learned that both had hidden from us for some time that they had their first girl friends.  Dave and I certainly have entered a new phase of our lives watching our fledglings take flight.

Despite my experience in March, just two months later in May, I headed to the Tetons and Yellowstone National Parks with the Rocky Mountain Science and Sustainability Network for a week-long institute with college students. This time, I was surrounded with lots of other professionals and there was a professional cook at the Murie Center. A much better arrangement and the food was plentiful and excellent! We had an incredible week of learning together, hiking, meeting with National Park Service employees to hear about their work and how climate change and sequestration was impacting our national treasures. And it was the first time I got to encounter a moose along a trail while hiking and to see the peaks of the Tetons (when I was there before, the clouds never lifted).

Back at Moravian, we had to move out of our science building this summer for some demolition and renovations.  This was a good excuse for not accepting any research students, and instead taking our first family vacation (as in all 4 of us together) in years. With Corey heading off to college, we realized that there may not be another such opportunity. Plus, we needed to celebrate his graduation. So in June, we headed to Alaska – a first trip to this destination for all of us. We stayed in quaint cabins, first in the Kenai Peninsula near Exit Glacier, then in Denali – hiking, birding, swatting mosquitoes, and taking in some of the most amazing landscapes we have ever seen. Glaciers really are blue and sometimes very dirty, but they are receding rapidly. We didn’t expect to experience record high temperatures (in the high 80’s) in Denali! If you haven’t done it, take a drive along the Denali Highway and eat Thai food from a truck near the end of the 100+ mile passage. Take a 9-hour boat ride through the fjords. We had two weeks of being unplugged and loved every minute of the spectacular views and many new birds (first sightings) for our respective life lists. And yes, there were salmon running up the streams to spawn by the thousands, grizzlies, caribou, moose, and alpine butterflies. Personally, I was privileged to visit 5 of this country’s most amazing national parks within just 4 months in 2013!

Closer to home, we were thrilled to celebrate the end of a 12-year battle to preserve a plot of land along the mountain near us that had been slated to be turned into a private race course. Kudos to a small conservation group (comprised of mostly neighbors and friends), known as the Blue Mountain Preservation Association, for their efforts. At the end, some other groups stepped in to help seal the purchase the land from the developer, and now it is conserved as state gamelands. The first day it was in public ownership, Corey visited the site and discovered a new species of dragonfly for the state! BMPA was honored at the annual Northeast Pennsylvania Environmental Partners awards dinner. In addition, for a long list of accomplishments, Corey was the recipient of the Emerging Environmental Leader award. He couldn’t come down from college, so his parents and his mentor, Dan Kunkle of the Lehigh Gap Nature Center, proudly accepted on his behalf.

Corey and I took an end-of-summer trip to Ohio and then Michigan to visit family and friends. The time was too short, but it was good to see my parents and the shores of Lake Superior and to spend quality time with Corey before he went off to Cambridge. A day of hiking in the Yellow Dog Plains, picking blueberries, picnicking, and visiting Fred Rydholm’s cabin with his daughter-in-law Kathleen Heideman was particularly special. For those of you not from the Upper Peninsula, Fred was my 7th grade science teacher, but was a historian, naturalist, and story-teller extraordinaire. I hadn’t been to the cabin since high school. I also had to good fortune to return to the U.P. in September when I was honored as a distinguished alumnus by Northern Michigan. It was fun to see former classmates, a member of the swim team, and my undergraduate professor, advisor, and research mentor.

Sending Corey off the last weekend in August was both exciting and tearful. Without him around the house, we all sense the “hole”. But he is learning amazing things with opportunities galore. After adjusting to the urban setting and to having a roommate, it appears as if he loves it there. But there were lots of new firsts – first time he didn’t do the fall “big sit” in our field (for counting birds over a 24-hour period), not being home for my birthday, etc. Despite my dislike for Apple products, I do appreciate Facetime – and our almost weekly chats with Corey from various locations on campus. I got to visit him in early November when I went up to do a talk at Stonehill College where a dear friend works. Not surprisingly, Corey and I left the campus to go birding.

~~~

Dave is still in the Chemistry Department at Lafayette. He must be approaching a record for longest time spent as a department head! When he is not teaching about Appalachia or biochemistry or doing chores on the farm, he plays music with the Lost Ramblers (or with Corey when he is home). This fall, he was busy conducting searches for new faculty colleagues – a less than fun task. 

Somewhere along the line, my career as a biochemist took a rather dramatic turn. These days, my scholarly efforts are mostly directed at ecological monitoring and restoration, climate change, the intersections of art and science, and conservation. These areas of focus are reflected in the honor’s thesis projects of students I mentored over the last two years:

• “Determination of the impact of heavy metal contamination on plants at the Lehigh Gap Wildlife Refuge” (work at a Superfund site).
• “Barnegat Bay Explorer Program: Using Public Education in the Barnegat Bay Protection Effort”.
• “Using Ecological Monitoring and Citizen Science to Better Understand Climate Change Impacts in Eastern Pennsylvania”.

Besides science, I have been working with local nature centers on nature journaling projects and gave my first talk at an art museum in December! I also had my first trip to Poland (Warsaw) this fall to attend the U.N. climate conference. This is the 5th of these conferences that I have attended in Copenhagen, Cancun, Durban (South Africa), and Doha (Qatar). The meetings always occur late in the fall semester, adding to my complicated schedule and providing yet another reason for not getting holiday letters out. It is frustrating to watch a lack of progress on international agreements aimed at addressing climate change and to see politics and economics overshadow what the science is telling us. But it is fascinating to meet people from 195 countries –all under the same roof, all of whom are at least trying to reach some sort of consensus on what to do.

Given that I am half-Polish, it was interesting to get a small taste of this culture. I really liked Warsaw, was saddened by the WWII and German occupation history, loved the (unhealthy) food, saw some lifers (birds), went to see a wonderful ballet, and visited the Madame Curie museum. Although Marie did most of her work in Paris, she was from Poland. I went to the museum with 3 female chemistry undergraduate students, and it seemed appropriate to pay homage to this woman who not only had amazing scientific discoveries, but did so at a time when women weren’t encouraged to be professionals, much less scientists. Excerpts of her letters indicated that society didn’t think it was appropriate for her to be working and traveling internationally while her children were left at home. 

In thinking back, I certainly traveled a lot this past year (and I didn’t even describe all my trips to meetings in Maryland, Denver, Indianapolis, and Texas)! Dave gets on my case about my carbon footprint, given my work in sustainability and climate change, but supports my work and holds down the fort while I am away. While I love to travel, it is particularly nice to hang out on the farm over this semester break. We certainly have been blessed with amazing personal and professional opportunities, great children, and the opportunity to be stewards of an old farm and views of the stretch of Appalachians that runs through our “neighborhood.”

Here is hoping that you all have a wonderful 2014 – filled with family, good health, and time for friends and reflection.

The Husics – Dave, Diane, Corey and Joren

For some pictures from this past year, go to: https://www.dropbox.com/sh/hia8949g2dlcl9o/TiNnM13W6V

Winter ramblings on a soggy day (a.k.a a tale with many bends)

It is a rare moment when I don’t have an immediate deadline, and, on top of that, the house is quiet. Very quiet. One son is driving to Ohio; the other is in his room learning some programming language. Dave is out playing tunes. And, oh, is it dreary. Pouring rain with temperatures in the 30’s is not my favorite weather condition.

Earlier today, I was out grocery shopping to gather things for a New Year’s celebration at the neighbors. I decided to come home along a different route from my normal drive to and from work. The snow of early December is mostly gone, except for a few dirty piles where plows pushed it off the roads and into edges of parking lots. There is too much impervious surface in the Lehigh Valley. They paved paradise sang Joni. Here they paved over superb topsoil and historic farmland. I think of all the salt and grime that combines with this melting snow to run directly into the Monocacy Creek that meanders along the road. Especially on rainy days like this. Do the fish and macro invertebrates sense these spikes in saline concentrations? Or are they just trying to stay warm?

In spring, this creek receives the runoff from the few remaining farms just to the north. The Monocacy flows into Bethlehem, collecting storm water runoff and dust from cement companies along the way. In some places, the lime raises the pH of the water enough to make it appear turquoise in color. The creek passes through the historic district of the city and joins with the Lehigh River to flow past the skeleton of the Bethlehem Steel plant. Reportedly, the name "Monocacy" comes from the Shawnee name for the river, Monnockkesey, which translates to "river with many bends." 

The country’s first municipal pumping system – the Bethlehem Waterworks – was built along the Monocacy in the 1750’s. According to the National Park Service, the system served the growing city until 1832, but the area had supposedly become an automobile graveyard by the 1960’s. Who knew? This area, known as the Colonial Industrial Quarter, is fortunately now a National Historic Landmark; the stone pumphouse was restored in the 1970’s – long before I moved to the area. The original plans for the waterworks were preserved in the Moravian Archives, not the collection near the campus where I work, but rather in Germany. I wonder why they weren’t kept in Bethlehem.

This year, the dam was removed from the Monocacy in the historic district, with hopes of lessening the flooding that has plagued the area of late. Our students have documented the increase in frequency of the creek reaching flood stage over the past two decades, coinciding with increased sprawl and blacktop, and increased heavy rain events. (Put up a parking lot or at least another strip mall or distribution center.) Some, including one of my colleagues, hopes that this dam removal will help restore the shad fish run up the creek in spring.

Bethlehem Steel began as the Saucona Iron Works in 1857. Once the largest steel-producing plant in the U.S., it filed for bankruptcy in 2001. Some of the former industrial site is now a casino/resort/arts center. I don’t know what possessed someone to build such a complex on a designated Brownfield, but I presume they test the dust and the water for contaminants. Certainly, the little town of Bethlehem receives some nice tax benefits that they weren’t collecting on 1600 acres of vacant, polluted land. Render onto Caesar.

I have a friend who has dedicated her time and talents over the past several years to salvage the former estate of the first mayor of Bethlehem, who also happened to be an important executive at Bethlehem Steel. You can tell that the grounds and 1920’s mansion of Archibald Johnston’s place were once spectacular. His descendents left the 55 acre estate to Bethlehem Township in 2005, but the property has been sorely neglected. My friend has copies of the original garden plans. No native plants, but pretty nice, nonetheless. Her persistence just may save this piece of Bethlehem history.

For a region steeped in history (dating back to 1741) that possesses the 6th oldest college in the country and buildings where the Continental Congress once worked and that served as the hub for the launch of the Industrial Revolution in this country, you think that more of its residents would care about preservation and honoring the past.

In historic Bethlehem on Christmas Eve

 ~~~

As I drove home, I notice that some of the yards are greening up from the warming spell we have had. I pass fields of unclaimed pumpkins that have been through many freeze-thaw cycles by now. Squishy fields, squishy pulp and flesh. Soon to be frozen again, given the looming forecast. While I don’t miss the bitter cold, long winters of upper Michigan, I do miss the seemingly ever-fresh snow cover, the evergreens and birch bark, and glittering ice on the Big Lake. Here, the winter palette is rather drab – sullied browns and grays.

While out shopping, I rescued a fine specimen of a Red Aglaonema to brighten up my office for the winter. (I am not sure why they call it spring semester.) I dropped it off as I had to stop by campus to check on the greenhouse. New windows in our science building means I don’t have to worry about plants getting too cold as they sometimes used to, but they still need to be watered. The large rambling "Wandering Jew" (Tradescantia Pallida Purpurea) plant that is climbing up a palm was in bloom. (I have no idea why the plant has the common name that it does.) These tiny purple flowers didn't have any scent, but really stood out visually on this lackluster day. No other souls were around (duh, it is semester break), so I was able to enjoy these tiny treasures in wonderful solitude.

I am feeling a bit guilty. Part of my shopping run today included a stop at a box store (yes, the type that adds even more paved surfaces) to purchase some incandescent bulbs before they are no longer produced as of the end of the year. Ms. Sustainability/Ms. Climate Change activist must confess that while I appreciate the energy savings of CFLs, I do not like the fluorescent rays  that they emit.  They are not as bad as mercury-vapor lamps, which actually make me nauseous, but still, I am not fond of fluorescent lights. I have allowed Dave to install CFLs and LED’s throughout the old farmhouse, but have balked at putting them into the fixture over the sink in one of the bathrooms. My indulgence, I guess. So I “had” to stock up on 40 watters, enough for a few years, anyway, just for this room. Does the fact that I drive a Subaru with 209,000 miles make up for this in anyway?

Well, in rereading this, I smile, as this quiet writing time was supposed to result in a belated holiday greeting letter. Perhaps I was feeling a bit too melancholy for that. This will be the first New Year's Eve without Corey. Not that we ever do anything particularly exciting to mark the passing of one year or to welcome in the new one, but when he is not here, I deeply sense the void. I realized that about ½ hour after he went off to college in August. This has been a year of many “firsts” – some wonderful, some bringing the realization that Dave and I are entering a new phase, a new bend in our river of life. Guess I will have to write that piece a little later.

On a sunnier day before the snow melted
Home sweet home

Reflecting on Mandela's passing

Two years ago, my son and I were in South Africa for the U.N. climate conference (COP17). Before the meetings started, we had the wonderful opportunity to spend time with Angelene and John Swart. Angelene was the first woman and layperson elected as President of the Unity Board of the worldwide Moravian Church and presented with an honorary degree by our seminary a few years ago.   They had also previously visited Bethlehem. One of the first things I noted in their home in a suburb of Cape Town was a large poster of Nelson Mandela. It is difficult to fully comprehend how much he meant to this family, to anyone in that country.

Angelene and John Swart and Corey

Angelene and John grew up under apartheid in South Africa labeled as "colored" (even though they actually consider themselves black), and as such, had to leave their home and move to a neighborhood designated for coloreds. They showed us beaches that they were once banned from stepping foot on, but now become almost giddy when they can stop and stand on the once forbidden sand, take in the spectacular views, and fantasize about the retirement home they would like to build there.

The shoreline to the east of Cape Town

When they were the age of our college students, they spent time in Genadendal – the oldest mission station in the country – secretly plotting how they might participate in nonviolent disobedience to help the cause of Mandela and other freedom fighters in their country.

The village of Genadendal

The Swart’s took us to Robben Island – a place with a long legacy for serving as a place of banishment – once home to people with leprosy or mental illness. Most famously, it is the site of the maximum security prison for political prisoners and criminals where Mandel spent many years. Today, it is a World Heritage site, a symbol of the price that was paid for freedom, a sacred site for many South Africans.

 

Part of the prison on Robben Island

 

Peering into Cell #5

The quarry where Mandela was forced to do hard labor and
ended up with permanent vision and lung damage

Prior to going to the country, I knew of apartheid and Mandela and divestment, but it was a cursory knowledge. Hearing first-hand stories from the Swart family, visiting Mandela’s prison cell, being in South Africa – made it all much more real for me. I have since read much about the freedom fighters and the truth and reconciliation process, and I am in awe of the courage and leadership that Mandela demonstrated throughout his life. I perhaps have only the slightest idea of how significant he is/was to the people of South Africa, but at least I can begin to understand their reverence.

At the climate meetings that year, the controversial phrase “climate apartheid” was dubbed. I will leave you to ponder the implications of that concept. But while at the meetings, I wrote the following in a blog post (12/1/11):

Over the last two days, the COP17 President convened an Indaba – an isiZulu word that refers to a gathering of people, infused with wisdom and Ubuntu. I have heard the term Ubuntu several times while in South Africa and vaguely understand it as a philosophy that focuses on community rather than the individual.
 
Nelson Mandela has stated that “Ubuntu does not mean that people should not enrich themselves. The question therefore is: Are you going to do so in order to enable the community around you to be able to improve?” If there is a scale for how much an individual (or country) abides by this philosophy, the U.S. would be on the very low end.

My comments at the time reflected my frustration with the climate negotiations and our country’s role in blocking progress. But I think the sentiments are relevant to our society more generally. The current debate over corporate profit vs. fair wages in the fast food industry is just one example. Perhaps the best way that we can honor Mandela’s legacy is to begin pondering how we each can work to improve and strengthen community rather than focusing so much on individual gain.

Conserving youth and urban areas

Today I read a wonderful article about a friend, Dave Magpiong, who is doing great work with urban children and in enhancing diversity in conservation (see Focus on Diversity III - Changing the Face of American Birding Conference on Facebook or at http://www.fledgingbirders.org/CFAB.html). The article on Dave's work can be found at http://articles.philly.com/2013-06-19/news/40050535_1_camden-school-birding-tom-knoche.

Twice this week, I heard pieces on WHYY out of Philly about Camden that, of course, focused on the bad -- the abandoned industrial plants, the crime, the violence...the poverty and unemployment. A lament for a city that once made major contributions to the world wars, but now was a scar on the promise of the "American Dream." But Dave's story is a different take on the city. It is the type of story about initiatives that will not only change the lives of children he works with, but of an entire community. And kudos to NPR's Marketplace for showing how Camden might be perceived as a leader in some areas: http://www.camdenhealth.org/nprs-marketplace-follows-the-affordable-care-act-through-the-eyes-of-camden/.

One of our graduates this spring is going to Cooper Medical School in Camden, a destination of choice for her. Her senior Honors project was on "Inequalities in Health Care Access", and her dream is to be of help in poor, blighted areas - a place where she believes that she can truly make a difference. So many students say this in their application essays and interviews, but few would be willing to prove it to this degree. Best of everything to you Margaret.

My place of birth, Detroit, is getting hammered in the media these day for its financial woes. For quite sometime, this beleaguered city was known by most as "the murder capital of the U.S." I lived there until I was almost 6, and my memories are of a different Detroit. My great grandmother's backyard cottage garden. Small, but lovely. No one could grow roses like she could. She was a lone "hold-out" white person in a neighborhood of African Americans, a spunky Polish immigrant whose native tongue was better than her English. But those neighbors protected her during the race riots of the 1960's. I remember sitting on our front porch with my dad as he called out to the Bob-white Quail in the field across the street.  Flash floods during summer thunderstorms, picnics, and walking to school - something I have not done since kindergarten.  I remember great deli stores, and of course, the auto companies. Ford was omnipresent.

I loved the 2011 Super Bowl commercial about Detroit, done by Eminem and Chrysler. It certainly showed Detroit in a different light. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iHozLw6f5rI

I am not an urban gal. I have lived in Detroit and Philadelphia, but I am most comfortable on my rural farm or on the shores of one of the Great Lakes -- away from crowds and noise. But I realize the importance of worrying about our urban kids and streets, the parks and waterfronts, the heat islands and safe green spaces. Perhaps a bit more of our conservation efforts should focus on these places and the people that inhabit them.

A summer evening walk

After taking a stab at poetry yesterday writing an Ode to August (http://watchingtheseasons.blogspot.com/2013/08/phenology-kind-of.html), I decided it was best to return to a form of writing that I am more familiar with - scientific reports.  But then I was interrupted.

 
After a rather rainy day, it cleared out nicely in late afternoon. The drier air and clear skies were calling, pleading for me to leave behind the report writing, if just for a little while. I love distractions. Heck, this report was due last May, so what are a few more hours? And enjoying a walk on a refreshing  and unusually cool August evening makes perfect sense when you are writing a section of a report on climate change and agriculture in Pennsylvania.

I was immediately rewarded with eight, yes eight, Red-spotted Purples on a single shrub! Limenitis arthemis – at least the subspecies in this region – is a mimic of the poisonous Pipevine Swallowtail butterfly (Battus philenor), and the same species as the very different looking White Admiral. Arthemis is likely an epitaph of Artemis – the goddess of the hunt, wild animals, childbirth, and protector of young girls. This deity was one of my favorites as a child; her Roman equivalent is Diana. I doubt that my mother named me after her, but I thought she was pretty cool anyway. These eight specimens appeared to be very fresh – not a tattered edge or faded spot of blue or orange among them.

Lately, I have been seeing large numbers of Spicebush and Eastern Tiger Swallowtails (genus Papilio – Latin for butterfly). They are particularly fond of my phlox and all the Monarda (bergamot, bee balm) growing on our property. I learned today (if Wikipedia is a trusted source) that this genus was named for Nicolás Monardes, who wrote a book in 1574 describing plants found in the New World. I think I would have enjoyed traveling around the world finding new plant species, although there weren’t too many women along on those early expeditions. (A great book on this topic is Flower Hunters by Mary and John Gribbon. The cover alone is worth buying the book for.) I digress. This plant, Monarda, has a long history as a medicinal plant being used as an antiseptic, a stimulant, or to treat everything from headaches to fevers to excessive flatulence. I wonder what it does for butterflies!

As I stopped to get Revi the crazed retriever, a family of Pileated Woodpeckers flew from a big old dead oak. I had heard the tapping while I was watching those black, blue, and orange goddesses, but hadn’t looked up to see who was making the noise. We have many different woodpeckers here. Lots of insects, lots of dying trees. And yes, our dog is named with a 4-letter code for a particular bird species. Do you know which one? They are common and quite noisy in our woods, although quieter now that it is August.

We went in the back woods, past the old pastures, and kicked up a covey of Ruffed Grouse – at least 5, some of which were obviously this year’s brood. Earlier this summer, Joren had spotted a mother with very young cheepers. He even got to witness the broken-wing dance that mothers do when they are protecting their babes. Growing up in Upper Michigan, I sort of took grouse for granted. Hunted them even. But they are much more uncommon in eastern PA, so it is good to know a) that they are breeding here and b) that some of the young made it to be teenagers.

Being a bird dog breed, Revi was quite pleased that he found me some game birds. I guess he decided that he deserved a reward, and ran off for a quick swim in the quarry ponds on the neighboring parcel. We haven’t been over there since last fall. These flat-coats sure have good memories. He returned soaking wet, saving his shake until he got very close to me. Thanks for sharing bud. But he looked so pleased with himself. I don’t know if it was because he flushed some birds or that he got to swim or that he drenched me with muddy waters.

When we returned, I checked one of our young peach trees – producing for the first time. Yup, more were ripe. This tree only teased me for the last few years, but now it is producing about ½ bushel a day. I don’t spray, so the fruit are far from cosmetically perfect, but they taste like heaven. I don’t think you can eat too many peaches when they are in season. Well, I suppose you could, and then you might need some of that medicinal bee balm. A good peach is something we never got in Upper Michigan. Only hard, tennis ball-like fruits that were never sweet and juicy.  Maybe someday, with global warming and all.

The sun had dropped behind the mountain when I brought Revi to the barn. Up in the old chestnut beams, the larger-than-head beaks of the latest round of barn swallow babies were all I could see above their nest. Always chirping, always hungry. Mom was no where around. Out collecting insects, I suppose. Hirundo rustica – nice name. This gang wouldn’t fledge for at least another week. I wonder where they go for winter. Will these same birds be back in our barn next spring? In April they return, about the same time our orchards begin to come into blossom. Which reminds me, I had better get back to that report chapter.