Two people contributed readings today, Rosemary and David.
Tag Archives: Readings
June 12 2014 Reading
Our reading today was provided by Silvio Curtis and is from the Ursula K. Le
Guin book Always Coming Home, pp.
51-52:
In our day
the River
of the Valley
barely
trickles
through a drought
year,when by
September
all but the
biggest creeks
are dry;
but the Na
will have been a bigger, though a shorter, stream. When the Great Valley as a whole subsides, the rifting along the fault lines and probably some magma pockets under Ama Kulkun will have sent the Valley‘s elevation up; ‘the watertable under it would also rise; and what with the hot summers of the Great Valley much tempered by
the Inland
Sea and the vast marshlands, and the sea fogs flowing over the sea currents through a far broader Gate, the climate will have been modified. The dry season not so intensely dry; the creeks fuller; the river statelier, more considerable, more worshipful. But still less than thirty
miles from spring to sea.
Thirty miles can be a
short or a long way. It depends on the way you go
them; what
the Kesh called wakwaha.
With ceremony, with forms of politeness and
reassurance, they borrowed the waters of the River and its
little confluents to drink and be clean and irrigate with, using water mindfully, carefully. They lived in a land that answers greed with drought and death.
A difficult land: aloof yet sensitive. Like the deer who live there, who will steal your food and
be your food, skinny little deer, thief and prey, neighbor and watcher and watched, curious, unfrightened, untrusting, and untamable. Never anything but wild.
The roots and springs of the Valley were always wild. The patterns of the grapestakes and the pruned vines, the rows of grey olive trees and the formal splendor of flowering almond orchards, the sharp-footed sheep and the
dark-eyed cattle, the wineries of stone, the old barns, the mills down by the water, the little shady towns, these are beautiful, humane, endearing, but the roots of the Valley are the roots of the digger pine, the scrub oak, the wild grasses careless
and uncared for, and the springs of those creeks rise among the rifts of earthquake, among rocks from the
floors of seas that were before there were human beings and from the fires inside the earth. The roots of the Valley are in wildness, in dreaming, in dying, in eternity. The deer trails there, the footpaths and the
wagon tracks, they pick their way around the roots of things. They don‘t go straight. It can take a lifetime to go thirty miles, and come back.
May 29 2014 Readings
We had three readings today to commemorate Rachel Carson’s birthday (May 27, 1907).
Bill Pierson read from his cell phone:
One
way to open your eyes is to ask yourself, What if I had never seen this before?
What if I knew I would never see it again?
Don Hunter and I (Dale Hoyt) chose selections from Carson’s posthumously
published book, A Sense of Wonder.
Don’s selection:
Those
who dwell, as scientists or laymen, among the beauties and mysteries of the
earth are never alone or weary of life. Whatever the vexations or concerns of
their personal lives, their thought can find paths that lead to inner
contentment and to renewed excitement in living. Those who contemplate the
beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life
lasts.
Finally, my selection:
A child’s world is fresh and new and beautiful,
full of wonder and excitement. It is our misfortune that for most of us that
clear-eyed vision, that true instinct for what is beautiful an awe-inspiring,
is dimmed and even lost before we reach adulthood. If I had influence with the
good fairy who is supposed to preside over the christening of all children I
should ask that her gift to each child in the world be a sense of wonder so
indestructible that it would last throughout life, as an unfailing antidote
against the boredom and disenchantments of later years, the sterile
preoccupation with things that are artificial, the alienation from the sources
of our strength.
. . .
I
sincerely believe that for the child, and for the parent seeking to guide him,
it is not half so important to know as to feel. If facts are the seeds that
later produce knowledge and wisdom, then the emotions and impressions of the
senses are the fertile soil in which the seeds must grow.
April 24 2014 Readings and Recipes
Four Ramblers brought
readings this week: Emily Carr, Kittie Everett, Rosemary Woodel and Hugh
Nourse.
Martha Walker shared some
interesting recipes that she found on the internet; these feature Locust
blossoms and Sweet Woodruff.
Emily’s reading is from from Jane Yolen’s Color Me a Rhyme: Nature Poems for Young People, pp. 8-9.
Green
Whichever angel had the task
of naming greens, squatting
on the hard new ground,
robe guttering at his perfect feet,
did not do his work well.
He gave us chartreuse, olive, leek,
emerald, ivy, beryl.
But they are not nearly enough
when the world is so much green.
Ferns, trees, grass, stems,
petals, limbs, leaves,
the soft mallow inside
each piece of greenware
deserve separate names.
Perhaps the world needed
a poet, not an angel,
because poets know
all the secret words,
some of which they make up,
all of which are
green.
Kittie’s reading is from The Snow Leopard, by Peter Matthiessen,
who died this past week. (This is the only book to have won two National Book
Awards.)
Wind brings swift, soft clouds from the south that cast shadows
on the snow. Close at hand, a redstart comes to forage
in the lichens, followed soon by a flock of fat rose finches.
I do not stir, yet suddenly all whir away in a gray gust, and minutely I turn to see what might have scared them. On a
rock not thirty feet away, an acipitrine (ak-sipitrin) hawk sits in silhouette
against the mountains, and here it hunches while the sun goes down, nape
feathers lifting in the wind, before diving after unseen prey over the rim of
the ravine.
Then the great Lammergeier (Iam-mer-gei-er) (a vulture) comes, gold-headed and black-collared, a nine-foot blade sweeping down
out of the north it passes in the shadows between cliffs. Where the river
turns, in a corner of the walls,
the late sun shines on a
green meadow, as if a lost world lay in that impenetrable ravine, so far below.
The great bird arcs round the wall, light glances from its mantle. Then it is gone,
and the sun goes, the
meadow vanishes, and the cold falls with the night shadow.
Rosemary brought a seasonal quote
from Red Skelton:
Spring
is sprung, the grass is riz. I wonder where the birdies is.
Hugh’s reading is from A Thousand
Mile Walk to the Gulf, by John Muir, whose birthday was April 21.
I think
that most of the antipathies which haunt and terrify are morbid productions of
ignorance and weakness. I have better thoughts of those alligators now that I
have seen them at home. Honorable representatives of the great saurians of an
older creation, may you long enjoy your lilies and rushes, and be blessed now
and then with a mouthful of terror-stricken man by way of dainty!
Black Locust is either blooming
or about to do so and Martha found this Locust Blossom Celebration
that tells you how to enjoy the flowers as either food or drink.
Martha also located a recipe
for May Wine with Sweet Woodruff. Those of you who have access to this herb
will enjoy this.
April 10 2014 Ramble Report
Today’s Ramble Report is the joint effort
of Hugh Nourse and Don Hunter. Don’s
photos can be found here.
Twenty-three ramblers met at the arbor
today for a ramble through the Garden to the Orange Trail, up the Orange Trail
to the Upper Parking Lot, onto the White Trail spur to the Dunson Native Flora
Garden and back..
Don Hunter read a wonderful discussion of
weeds from The Nature Connection, an
Outdoor Workbook for Kids, Families, and Classrooms by Clare Walker Leslie,
Naturalist, Artist and Educator:
“What
about weeds?
“Weed”
is not a botanical term, as weeds are really wildflowers. We call them weeds because they grow happily
even though we don’t plant them and often show up in places where we don’t want
them! Humans are weeds, too, in the
sense that we can live just about anywhere, we can survive under all kinds of
conditions, and we are hard to get rid of!
“Many
so called weeds are just as beautiful as any cultivated plant (that’s what we
call plants we grow on purpose), as well as being tough, adaptable, and often
quite useful. When I look at “A Garden
Guide to Weeds” or “The Peterson Field Guide to Wildflowers”, I discover that
most of the plants I know are weeds.”
Hugh read a short quote from Edwin Way
Teale, collected in Environmental Writing
Since Thoreau, American Earth, edited by Bill McKibben, p. 313
“The
difference between utility and utility plus beauty is the difference between
telephone wires and the spider’s web.”
Our first stop was noting that the
Florida Azalea (Rhododendron austrinum)
on which we had observed lichens several
weeks ago, looked dead. The adjacent
plant was in full and glorious bloom.
The lichen covered one looked dead.
We wondered which came first, plant stress, lichens, and death.
In the Endangered Plant Garden we noted
that the golden ragwort (Packera aurea)
had invaded the plot.
In the Indian Garden we noted the rue
anemone and remarked on how long it lasts.
Blooming were lily of the valley (Convallaria
majalis), and a wild hyacinth or Quamash hyacinth (Camasia leichtlinii). The
latter was like the one in the northwest that the Lewis and Clark expedition
learned from the Indians. Also present
was a leaf from the deciduous wild ginger (Asarum
arifolium) along with Mayapples (Podophyllum
peltatum), the first of many we were to see. Above the Indian Garden a shrub was showing
new leaves, and someone thought it was a bloom.
Wanted to know what it was. She
read the label, Kalmia latifolia,
which is Mountain Laurel. There were
also a lot of leaves from a number of plants that were black cohosh (Actea racemosa) that will not bloom
until summer.
As we entered the Physic Garden we noted
the high bush blueberry (Vaccinium
corymbosum), but the sign below said it was a Gaylusachia procumbens, but it was not procumbent and did not have
the leaves of tea berry. The Gaylusachia genus have gold glands on
the underside of the leaf that can be seen with a hand lens. We could not see the gold glands on these
leaves.
Once again we stopped to admire the
PawPaw (Asimina triloba) patch.
Our next stop was at the cultivar, white
Loropetalum. Crossing a bridge to the
Thinking Lady statue, or is it the one with a headache, we admired the blooming
black cherry (Prunus serotina). There was some discussion as to whether it
was Cherry Laurel. Black cherry is a
deciduous tree, whereas Cherry Laurel (Prunus
caroliniana) is evergreen.
On the path through the deer fence gate
and down to the creek along the Orange Trail there were new leaves of Solomon
Seal (Polygonatum biflorum) and wild
ginger (Hexastylis arifolia). Yellow Three parted violets (Viola tripartita) were in bloom, and
bloodroot (Sanguinaria canadensis)
had gone to seed. The seed was
beautifully cradled by the leaf, which was continuing to get bigger to absorb
energy for next year. Mayapple (Podophyllum
peltatum) requires two joined leaves to have a blossom, and we did indeed
find one just opened. It was so
beautiful! Fresh hepatica (Anemone americana) leaves were very
attractive. We have been following the beech trees (Fagus grandifolia) to see when their leaves drop and the new ones
appear. Today at this point we found a
tree still with leaves on it, but the new lovely brown sharp leaf buds were
also bursting with new leaves. The
leaves of poison ivy (Toxicodendron
radicans) have started to appear.
Crossing the bridge at the river edge a
vine climbing a muscle wood tree (Carpinus
caroliniana) was leafing out, revealing by its paired leaves that it was
climbing hydrangea (Decumaria barbara). Along the creek were lots of wildflowers: rue anemone (Thalictrum thalictroides), blue
violet (Viola sororia), the leaves of
violet wood sorrel (Oxalis violacea)
with their purple margins, leaves of river cane (Arundinaria sp), leaves of yellow root (Xanthorhiza simplicissima), and blooms of wild geraniums (Geranium maculatum). Another bloom was perfoliate bellwort (Uvularia perfoliata). Hugh discussed how to tell it from the other
perfoliate bellwort (U. grandiflora).
The inner surface of the tepals in P.
perfoliata have orange granular surfaces, which P. grandiflora does not have.
A sweet shrub (Calycanthus
floridus) was just budding. Someone
asked about a sprout with just a whorl of fresh leaves, which turned out to be
wild yam (Dioscorea villas). Several
ferns have now popped out: broad beech
fern (Phegopteris hexagonoptera),
Southern Lady Fern (Athyrium asplenioides)
and ebony spleenwort (Asplenium
platyneuron). As was conjectured by
ramblers, the name Asplenium was
given because it was thought the plant was supposed to cure diseases of the
spleen. Another find was blue star (Amsonia tabernaemontana). It was actually in two place: once early along the creek, and once by a
nice patch of rue anemone. On the slope heading away from the creek another
fern appeared. Just the three basic
leaves of the rattlesnake fern (Botrypus
virginianus) appeared. Its fertile
frond has yet to come up. All along the
trail the leaves of Christmas fern (Polystichum
acrostichoides) was unfurling, the beautiful fiddleheads. Rounding a tree
that hid it from view, the Kidney leaf
buttercup (Ranunculus abortivus)
was quite robust. Hugh had the
scientific name right, but the common name was not early buttercup (Thank you
Don).
On the white trail spur two more black
cherry trees were blooming. Five fingers, Cinquefoil (Potentilla canadensis) with its bright yellow flower made this walk
to the Dunson Native Flora Garden more interesting. We talked about the two species of
Cinquefoil: P. canadensis and P. simplex. The difference is that in P. canadensis the first flower is in the
axis of the first well-developed stem leaf, whereas in P. simplex the first flower is in the axis of the second
well-developed stem leaf. The appearance
of dogwood (Cornus florida) in bloom in the forest is different than what you
see in yards. It is a more delicate
wafting scene of the white flowers, a truly wonderful sight in Spring. I can still remember the beauty of seeing it
for the first time in the woods of North Carolina on a trip from the airport to
UNC to give a paper. All along this trail were the leaves of muscadine grape (Vitis rotundifolia) Amazingly, trilliums
were popping up along this spur.
Just before entering the Dunson Native
Flora Garden the Piedmont Azalea (Rhododendron
canescens) was in bloom with its pinkish flowers. below it the leaves of
Black Cohosh were up. but Dwarf crested iris (Iris crostata) was hidden in vegetation. But the flowers of columbine (Aquilegia canadensis) were not hidden.
In the Dunson Native Flora Garden
trilliums were everywhere, as were Virginia bluebells (Mertensia virginiana). More
dwarf crested iris, green and gold (Chrysogonum
virginianum) were blooming. The
wonderful shooting stars were in full bloom.
The sign called them Dodecatheon
meadia, but they have just been moved to Primula meadia. Some botanists have told me that they do not
agree or like this change at all. Across
from the mass of blooming decumbent trilliums (Trilllium decumbent), a lone but quite beautiful yellow trillium (Trillium lutea) was blooming. The
tiny trillium (Trillium pusillum) had
turned red. The medicinal plant with its
very small flower, goldenseal (Hydrastis
canadensis) was also in bloom.
But the joy of the day was to walk up the
rocky dry stream behind the golden ragwort to see two amazing trilliums. One was Catesby’s trillium (Trillium catesbaei) and Wateree trillium
(Trillium oostingii) that has only
been named by Chick Gaddy in 2008. Its
distribution is limited to South Carolina.
It grows under a canopy of deciduous trees, such as butternut hickory,
black walnut, slippery elm, box elder,
in rich floodplain soils forming large colonies alongside mayapples. It
has three broadly rounded, mottled leaves and its flowers have three
green-yellow petals and three green to maroon sepals. Cliff, a new assistant in the Dunson Native
Flora Garden planted it.
Blue phlox (Phlox divaricata), wood poppy (Stylophorum
diphyllum), and halberd leaf yellow violet (Viola hastata) were in full bloom.
But at the end of the lower circle we showed everyone the Cherry laurel
(Prunus caroliniana) and how
different it was from the black cherry.
Two other flowers to comment on are foam
flower (Tiarella cordifolia) and the
fact that the petals of Edna’s trillium (Trillium
persistence) had turned red with age. We do not think the PawPaw tree along the
trail is Asimina triloba), as the sign reads. Ellen Honeycutt, who was on our Bot Soc
ramble alerted us to the characteristics of the plant that would suggest it
should be dwarf pawpaw (Asimina
parviflora). We have pointed this
out to the curator.
It was time to retire to Donderos for
coffee and snacks.
Hugh Nourse
April 17 2014 Ramble Report
Twenty Ramblers assembled on this chilly morning – what
happened to spring?
Don
Hunter’s facebook album for today’s ramble can be found here.
First up was an important announcement: Hugh and Carol are
this year’s recipients of the Alec Little Environmental Award, to be presented
this evening (April 17) at the Athens GreenFest Awards Ceremony.
Today’s reading was a short piece pertinent to the season:
Gazing
in the distance you will now see a long-awaited green mist, the stirring of
tree leaves emerging from their buds. Soon we will be able to hear them
rustling in the wind and this soft sound signals a change in the short life of
the ephemeral flowers on the ground below. The closing of the canopy deprives
them of sunlight and they must rush to produce their fruits and seeds and the
n
retire until next spring.
Dale Hoyt, April, 2014
Readings April 3 2014
Out
first reading was presented by Sue Wilde and is from The Signature of All Things by Elizabeth Gilbert:
In every way mosses could seem plain,
dull, modest, even primitive. The simplest weed sprouting from the humblest
city sidewalk appeared infinitely more sophisticated by comparison. But here is
what few people understand, and what Alma came to learn: Moss is inconceivably
strong. Moss eats stone; scarcely anything, in return, eats moss. Moss dines
upon boulders, slowly but devastatingly, in a meal that lasts for centuries. Given
enough time a colony of moss can turn a cliff into gravel, and turn that gravel
into topsoil. Under shelves of exposed limestone,
moss colonies create dripping, living sponges that hold on tight and drink calciferous
water straight from the stone. Over
time, this mix of moss and mineral will itself turn into travertine marble, Within
that hard, creamy-white marble surface, one will forever see veins of blue,
green, and gray-the traces of the antediluvian moss settlements. St.Peter’s
Basilica itself was
built from the stuff,
both created by and stained with the bodies of ancient moss colonies.
Moss grows where nothing else can grow.
It grows on bricks. It grows on tree bark and roofing slate. It grows in the
Arctic Circle and in the balmiest tropics; it also grows on the fur of sloths,
on the backs of snails, on decaying human bones. Moss, Alma learned, is the
first sign of botanic life to reappear on
land that has been burned or otherwise stripped down to barrenness Moss has the
temerity to begin luring the forest back to life. It is a resurrection engine.
A single clump of mosses can lie dormant and dry for forty years at a stretch,
and then vault back again into life with a mere soaking of water.
The second
reading was presented by Kay Giese; it is the poem “Field Guide” by
Billy Collins from Questions about Angels.
© William Morrow and Company, 1991.
Field Guide
No one I ask knows the name of the
flower
we pulled the car to the side of the road to pick
and that I point to dangling purple from my lapel.
I
am passing through the needle of spring
in North Carolina, as ignorant of the flowers of the south
as the woman at the barbecue stand who laughs
and the man who gives me a look as he pumps the gas
and
everyone else I ask on the way to the airport
to return to where this purple madness is not seen
blazing against the sober pines and rioting along the
roadside.
On
the plane, the stewardess is afraid she cannot answer
my question, now insistent with the fear that I will leave
the province of this flower without its sound in my ear.
Then,
as if he were giving me the time of day, a passenger
looks up from his magazine and says wisteria.
Readings March 27 2014
Our first reading was by Hugh Nourse (from a recommendation
by Jacqueline Elsner, Oconee Co. librarian):
We Could Wish Them A Longer Stay
Plum,
peach, apple, and pear
And the service tree on the hill
Unfold blossom and leaf.
From them comes scented air
As the brotherly petals spill.
Their tenure is bright and brief.
We
could wish them a longer stay,
We could wish them a charmed bough
On a hill untouched by the flow
Of consuming time; but they
Are lovelier, dearer now
Because they are soon to go,
Plum, peach, apple and pear
And the service blooms whiter than snow.
from Bow Down In Jericho, 1950, by Byron Herbert Reece, pp. 107-108
Jackie says:
Here
is a perfect Byron Herbert Reece poem for right now. For
reciting a Reece poem, I am partial to the mountain pronunciation of
“service” as in “sar-vice.” He did not have a strong
mountain accent, from recordings of his voice. I don’t know how he pronounced
the name of the tree. But certainly the people in Choestoe would have
pronounced it the mountain way!
Our second reading was read by Don Hunter:
March – Signs of Spring
March
is a wonderful month of hope. Winters back has been broken and signs of spring
are stirring, though it may still feel cold and dark. The old Roman calendar
had only ten months. January and February weren’t part of it; they were just
called lithe dead season.” March was named by the Romans after Mars, the
god of war and also of vegetation, which is fitting as this was the month that
soldiers went to battle and farmers began planting.
The
saying “March comes in like a lion and out like a lamb” refers to the
constellations Leo the Lion and Aries the Ram – both are prominent in the March
sky. Also, the weather is often ferocious in early March and gentler at the end
of the month.
This
is the month to begin looking for signs of new plant life. Go outside and
listen to the chatter of the birds, feel the first warm breezes, smell the damp
earth, and know that here and now, all is right. Be present to the sound of
those birds, that rushing wind, the warming land.
From The Nature Connection, An Outdoor Workbook for Kids, Families, and
Classrooms by Clare Walker Leslie, a nationally known naturalist, artist
and educator.
Reading Feb. 27, 2014
From The Rural Life by Verlyn Klinkenborg,
pp. 18-19, Little, Brown Co.
February 20, 2014 Readings
Hugh read this passage about hepatica from Spring
Wildflowers of the Northeast: