High 31, partly cloudy
Snow keeps falling here in New England. Since it's been wicked cold lately, I have been reading more than usual. I thought this would be a good time to make a list of some of my favorite books and some most recent reads.
All Things Great and Small, James Herriot- I just finished this heart-warming and humourous account of a veterinary surgeon in England in the 1930s.
The Web of Life, Fritjof Capra- I am currently reading this book about systems biology. This is not a light read.
The Unsettling of America, Wendell Berry- Every once in a while I pick this book back up and read a chapter or two. Berry is passionate about the land, and this book is one of his best.
Animal, Vegetable, Miracle; Barbara Kingsolver- I didn't think I would like this book because it came at a time when everyone was talking "locavore," but by the end I loved it. There's a great mozarella recipe in this book too, for those who want to try something new.
The Omnivore's Dilemma, Michael Pollan- An elegant account of our food systems. I recommend this over his shorter work, In Defense of Food.
Silent Spring, Rachel Carson- A must read for anyone in my field, and one of my favorite all-time books. This book brings chemistry to life!
A Sand County Almanac, Aldo Leopold- This book can change your life. It made me look at sunrises in a whole different way!
Living the Good Life, Helen and Scott Nearing- The authors describe how they went off-grid in the 1930s! Vegan. In Vermont.
Living on the Earth, Alicia Bay Laurel- A general how-to book for homesteading or communal living.
Walden, Henry David Thoreau- I bought my first copy new for $3 in high school, and I still have it!
Luminous Fish, Lynn Margulis- In this work, Margulis humanizes scientists and shows that they are more than their research. We also see that Margulis is more than her own work!
Okay, that's the short list. Just in time for the spring semester!
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Friday, January 16, 2009
A hike at the Hawley Bog
High 4; mostly sunny
This is an account of a hike I took on January 27, 2007. I doubt much has changed, but perhaps the ice is a little more solid today.
The Bog Trail meets Hunt Road at a nondescript intersection. There are no trail signs, save for a sign marked "Stop. Dead End." The map shows the trail meeting up with the multi-use Poverty Hill Trail in less than a mile, so this sign makes me question the audience of this sign. Is it meant for snowmobilers? Because it is possible that this trail becomes unsuitable for them. Deciding to see where it takes me, I begin following what I can only assume is the Bog Trail.
Up a steep hill the trail meanders along the property ling of Kenneth Dubuque State Forest. This part, at least, is consistant with the map so I press on. The trail is wide and road-like, and eventually it forks. The right fork appears to go toward private property, so I stay left. The trail narrows. Young hemlocks, encased in ice, bend over the trail and some need to be pushed aside. Mountain laurel encroaches on the trail, seeming to grow underfoot. I get a sense of acidic soil. Branches and the leathery laurel leaves clatter like broken glass. I am becoming less convinced that this trail is legitimate when I see snags and cattails ahead on the right. Obvious signs of the wetland that was shown on the map. I navigate through the brush and come across a plaque mounted on a rock. It was a plaque stating that this, Hawley Bog, is a National Landmark. Amazing, and somewhat unexpected.
The bog was a beautiful sight, but why was it hidden, and why was the trail so unkempt? How sad that thsi pristine and valuable natural area is underappreciated such that its access is in disrepair.
I walked farther, and spurred on by the open spaces created by the water. I followed what seemed like a trail, skirting around frozen areas. But no more than 50 feet from the plaque, the ice underfoot cracked and my leg dipped down into freezing water up to the knee. Disheartened, I was forced to turn around and head back to the "trailhead". My pant leg froze and knocked against my boot as I made my way back through the frozen landscape. My toes slightly numb, I made it back safe and cranked up the heat of the car.
This is an account of a hike I took on January 27, 2007. I doubt much has changed, but perhaps the ice is a little more solid today.
The Bog Trail meets Hunt Road at a nondescript intersection. There are no trail signs, save for a sign marked "Stop. Dead End." The map shows the trail meeting up with the multi-use Poverty Hill Trail in less than a mile, so this sign makes me question the audience of this sign. Is it meant for snowmobilers? Because it is possible that this trail becomes unsuitable for them. Deciding to see where it takes me, I begin following what I can only assume is the Bog Trail.
Up a steep hill the trail meanders along the property ling of Kenneth Dubuque State Forest. This part, at least, is consistant with the map so I press on. The trail is wide and road-like, and eventually it forks. The right fork appears to go toward private property, so I stay left. The trail narrows. Young hemlocks, encased in ice, bend over the trail and some need to be pushed aside. Mountain laurel encroaches on the trail, seeming to grow underfoot. I get a sense of acidic soil. Branches and the leathery laurel leaves clatter like broken glass. I am becoming less convinced that this trail is legitimate when I see snags and cattails ahead on the right. Obvious signs of the wetland that was shown on the map. I navigate through the brush and come across a plaque mounted on a rock. It was a plaque stating that this, Hawley Bog, is a National Landmark. Amazing, and somewhat unexpected.
The bog was a beautiful sight, but why was it hidden, and why was the trail so unkempt? How sad that thsi pristine and valuable natural area is underappreciated such that its access is in disrepair.
I walked farther, and spurred on by the open spaces created by the water. I followed what seemed like a trail, skirting around frozen areas. But no more than 50 feet from the plaque, the ice underfoot cracked and my leg dipped down into freezing water up to the knee. Disheartened, I was forced to turn around and head back to the "trailhead". My pant leg froze and knocked against my boot as I made my way back through the frozen landscape. My toes slightly numb, I made it back safe and cranked up the heat of the car.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Wolf Moon
High 26, Some clouds
According to the Farmer's Almanac, Algonquin tribes of the Northeast named the first moon of our calendar year the Wolf Moon. I don't know much about this tribe of Native Americans, except that my grandmother was 1/8th Algonquin, and I should (and do!) resolve to research them more thoroughly. The Wolf Moon happened last night, and since we had a nice snowfall the day before, I thought that this would be a perfect night for a moonlit snowshoe in the fields near the Oxbow.
After dinner, I peered out the window, and saw the brightness in the sky of the moon behind the clouds. My husband and I put on our winter woolies and headed out to Old Springfield Road (Easthampton) at around 7. Needless to say, there are no pictures from this hike. It was pretty cloudy, but mild. The first half of the hike, I didn't think we would get to see the moon at all, but then it poked out of the clouds, and became more visible as we headed back across the fields toward our car.
While we were out in the fields, admiring the brightness of this winter moon and how it reflected off the snow, I could hear dogs barking in the distance. The sounds of highway travellers were quiet in the distance, even though I could see the head and tail lights of cars on I-91. But the dogs were loud, and seemed eerily close even though they must have been at least 2 miles away. The Native Americans called this moon the Wolf Moon because it was accompanied by the howling of hungry wolves outside the camps. Not much has changed.
According to the Farmer's Almanac, Algonquin tribes of the Northeast named the first moon of our calendar year the Wolf Moon. I don't know much about this tribe of Native Americans, except that my grandmother was 1/8th Algonquin, and I should (and do!) resolve to research them more thoroughly. The Wolf Moon happened last night, and since we had a nice snowfall the day before, I thought that this would be a perfect night for a moonlit snowshoe in the fields near the Oxbow.
After dinner, I peered out the window, and saw the brightness in the sky of the moon behind the clouds. My husband and I put on our winter woolies and headed out to Old Springfield Road (Easthampton) at around 7. Needless to say, there are no pictures from this hike. It was pretty cloudy, but mild. The first half of the hike, I didn't think we would get to see the moon at all, but then it poked out of the clouds, and became more visible as we headed back across the fields toward our car.
While we were out in the fields, admiring the brightness of this winter moon and how it reflected off the snow, I could hear dogs barking in the distance. The sounds of highway travellers were quiet in the distance, even though I could see the head and tail lights of cars on I-91. But the dogs were loud, and seemed eerily close even though they must have been at least 2 miles away. The Native Americans called this moon the Wolf Moon because it was accompanied by the howling of hungry wolves outside the camps. Not much has changed.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
View
High 26, mostly cloudy
This is a short post because while I meant to write all week, today flew by. I have been anticipating the snow storm which has just started, and in doing so, I sort of lost track of the time. I went for a morning run, to the diner for a hearty breakfast, and then spent time with my sister.
Spending time with my sister meant making mozzarella, a new family tradition for us LaCroixs. I use a simple recipe that I found in Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver, and (as she says) it really only takes 30 minutes to make a pound of cheese! Of course, I try to use local milk when possible, or just the best quality milk I can find.
As I made cheese at my sister's apartment, I enjoyed her view of Mount Tom. She has a fantastic view of the summit out of almost every window of her apartment! As we warmed ourselves in her kitchen, I tried to imagine Mt. Tom under 1 mile of ice, as it was during the last glaciation. I looked to the darkening, clouded sky and tried to imagine beyond. Beyond the clouds, up into the heavens. Ice. The trees clinging to the basalt columns almost seem like opportunists if you speed time forward in your mind, racing toward the present day. Pine, maple, oak. But still, there are those cliffs, now growing white and staying so for the next few months.
This is a short post because while I meant to write all week, today flew by. I have been anticipating the snow storm which has just started, and in doing so, I sort of lost track of the time. I went for a morning run, to the diner for a hearty breakfast, and then spent time with my sister.
Spending time with my sister meant making mozzarella, a new family tradition for us LaCroixs. I use a simple recipe that I found in Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver, and (as she says) it really only takes 30 minutes to make a pound of cheese! Of course, I try to use local milk when possible, or just the best quality milk I can find.
As I made cheese at my sister's apartment, I enjoyed her view of Mount Tom. She has a fantastic view of the summit out of almost every window of her apartment! As we warmed ourselves in her kitchen, I tried to imagine Mt. Tom under 1 mile of ice, as it was during the last glaciation. I looked to the darkening, clouded sky and tried to imagine beyond. Beyond the clouds, up into the heavens. Ice. The trees clinging to the basalt columns almost seem like opportunists if you speed time forward in your mind, racing toward the present day. Pine, maple, oak. But still, there are those cliffs, now growing white and staying so for the next few months.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Ratomorphism
High 32, Wintery mix
I have been reading a bit about animal behavior lately and came upon an interesting idea. For as long as I have been studying biology, I have known of the concept of "anthropomorphism," ascribing human thoughts and emotions to animals. For years this has allowed scientists to reason out particular behaviors. The desire to explain animal behavior, such a human desire, runs deep. Do animals really "care for" their young? Do spiders spin a web to catch prey?
Over the past century or so, scientists have found that it is nearly impossible to infer anything from the behavior of animals. Studies on the behavior of rats in artificial conditions have brought up more questions than they have answered about the natural behavior of animals. In fact, after watching lab rats navigate these abnormal conditions, scientists began explaining human behavior in terms of rat behavior. I suppose that "gut decisions" and some "human instincts" seem more akin to the behavior of other animals. But it's not that simple. This "ratomorphic" view of human behavior appears just as misleading as the anthropomorhic view of animal behavior.
I have been reading a bit about animal behavior lately and came upon an interesting idea. For as long as I have been studying biology, I have known of the concept of "anthropomorphism," ascribing human thoughts and emotions to animals. For years this has allowed scientists to reason out particular behaviors. The desire to explain animal behavior, such a human desire, runs deep. Do animals really "care for" their young? Do spiders spin a web to catch prey?
Over the past century or so, scientists have found that it is nearly impossible to infer anything from the behavior of animals. Studies on the behavior of rats in artificial conditions have brought up more questions than they have answered about the natural behavior of animals. In fact, after watching lab rats navigate these abnormal conditions, scientists began explaining human behavior in terms of rat behavior. I suppose that "gut decisions" and some "human instincts" seem more akin to the behavior of other animals. But it's not that simple. This "ratomorphic" view of human behavior appears just as misleading as the anthropomorhic view of animal behavior.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
New Year
High 31, partly cloudy
Although January 1st doesn't mark any significant event in the natural world, I still get excited whenever New Year's Day comes around. I love the feelings of new beginnings, fresh starts and clean slates.
My intention was to spend the New Year celebrating with some friends in the Catskills. Unfortunately, the snow on Dec. 31 and the cold weather that followed made this impossible. The windshield washer fluid froze as it was coming out of the sprayer, and I realized that the trip to the mountains might not be such a good idea this time. So my husband, my best friend and I enjoyed a quiet Eve at home. On New Year's Day, we ventured out into the cold (10 degrees) for snowshoeing and cross-country skiing.
I had never been to Wendell State Park before, and it seemed appropriate to have new experiences on the first day of 2009. Julie had never been on snowshoes before, either! Luckily, the trails were very easy to follow and we had a great time breathing the fresh air and looking for animal tracks (the best one was a mouse track with the tail line still visible).
[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="144" caption="Wendell, MA New Year's Day 2009"]
[/caption]
Although January 1st doesn't mark any significant event in the natural world, I still get excited whenever New Year's Day comes around. I love the feelings of new beginnings, fresh starts and clean slates.
My intention was to spend the New Year celebrating with some friends in the Catskills. Unfortunately, the snow on Dec. 31 and the cold weather that followed made this impossible. The windshield washer fluid froze as it was coming out of the sprayer, and I realized that the trip to the mountains might not be such a good idea this time. So my husband, my best friend and I enjoyed a quiet Eve at home. On New Year's Day, we ventured out into the cold (10 degrees) for snowshoeing and cross-country skiing.
I had never been to Wendell State Park before, and it seemed appropriate to have new experiences on the first day of 2009. Julie had never been on snowshoes before, either! Luckily, the trails were very easy to follow and we had a great time breathing the fresh air and looking for animal tracks (the best one was a mouse track with the tail line still visible).
[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="144" caption="Wendell, MA New Year's Day 2009"]
[/caption]
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