Biologists are not supposed to be such eloquent, poetic writers. I guess Heather didn't get the memo. She was probably in some jungle when the memo came out. I think I like jungles.
May I blame the schools? One of the clearest lessons I learned in school was that one could like math and science, or English and social studies, but never any other combination, and certainly not all of them at once. I knew I was "math and science" in elementary school -- and the science fiction stories that I loved reinforced the schools' dichotomies. It was decades before I realized how much I love history and writing!
With rare exceptions, this dichotomy is false. If you're good at one thing, you can be good at many things. The more subjects you know, the more you like -- and that goes ten-fold if you're good at them. And the more you enjoy, the better you're going to get.
I'm not just talking about academic subjects, either. Being able to do well at physical tasks -- from running long distances with joy, to plumbing a house, to singing in a choir, to baking a crispy, chewy, flavorful loaf of bread -- somehow these augment and enliven the more intellectual tasks.
My father was an engineer to the core, an excellent writer, an adventuresome cook, an avid hiker, and a reliable handyman. My 20-year-old homeschooled grandson's "higher education" is an apprenticeship as an electrician; he can also write a good short story, bake an exquisite loaf of bread, play the French horn, and create beautiful furniture out of wood. What's more, he recently understood and enjoyed reading Hofstadter's "Gödel, Escher, Bach," which is more than I can say. (If only I could talk him into reading RFK Jr.'s books!)
In an era when we need Renaissance men more than ever, schools are encouraging us to specialize and then "stay in our lane." As if scientists wouldn't benefit from being able to express their ideas clearly and succinctly!
I was an engineering major for two years, and then an English major. It wasn't part of a plan, it's that I was young and feeling my way around. It would have been difficult to be an engineering major with and English minor, or vice versa. Yes, I think schools present as too much of an either/or rather than a combination.
But the reality is that the physical sciences and the humanities are quite different, relative to the approach, so perhaps the two are difficult to meld. In physical science and engineering, nature calls the shots. Imagination must be constrained to what physical reality will allow. In the humanities, physical reality is very nearly shunned in favor of untethered imagination. Oil and water, I guess.
I can easily recognize 'thought leaders' who have no background in the physical sciences. They'll make what they consider to be a good argument, with little concern for whether their ideas can exist in the real world. They are 'for' and 'against', but can't rationally explain why. They just know they're right. Try building a bridge that way!
a beautiful reminder of a magical visit to Chichen Itza... at the "end" of the calendar...
FYI... In Israel we also follow the lunar calendar... alongside the Gregorian... it defines our holiday schedule... our major holidays of Passover and Sukkot always begin on a full moon...
This is how you know the USA is not a Xtian nation and hasn't been for over fifty years. Easter and Pesach are intimately coupled. Looks like mine was the last generation that imbibed this with Mum's milk so to speak. I still find it slightly surprising; but this is one of those pieces of "common knowledge" that used to have me railing in high dudgeon at folk being ignorant of it. My mind has ceased boggling but this is another mark of just how far things have unraveled.
Your gift of creating visions, and near-tangible moods, with words is great. Thank you for sharing your talent with the world (which is needful of these sorts of contributions).
"A change in the air."
It's here now in Central (suburban-rural) NJ. The trees 'look' different; there is no way to explain that other than they look as if they know Summer has lost the battle and is retreating, and they are responding from their canopies on down. The crows are loud now. When they caw into coo air in the dewy mornings, you 'know': it's come, that time of year. The momma woodchuck and her four babies she raised in our yard this spring through summer no longer are seen together all at once. The youngsters have separated off because it's that time. The apples and pears are getting ready for us now. (The peaches were especially nice this year in July: sparse, but therefore larger, and not a single worm!). Though we live "in town", the previous owner planted three fruit trees on this half acre 30+ years ago and we are annually grateful to him; though we heard he'd died of cancer a few years ago now, his gift lives on. A continuance amidst the change.
What a exquisite piece to read on what happens to be a beautiful late summer-early fall day here in our corner of earth. Thank you for nudging me to pause and think it all over.
So beautiful. Thank you, as always, for letting me, and us, in to a glimpse of your life. Life among trees. I have lived among trees continuously, I think, since leaving Southern California so many years ago. What I have never had, but have always wanted, is fruit trees. I have fantasized about an orchard, but would have been please with just a couple, a few--enough to prompt fruiting. A gift indeed.
I saw this show up in my inbox this morning. I had some running around to do, but I flagged it to read later today. As fate or luck might have it, Heather just finished reading it on today's Darkhorse podcast. What a fantastic end to the walk I was taking. Thank you Heather and Bret for everything you do, and thank you for making this upcoming journey. While not everyone who wants to be there will be able to make it, I know a lot of us will be with you in "free" spirit Now, onto to all of us getting some things done.
Ah, light. Metaphor and reality connected by quanta. In North Florida summer solstice is not much cause for celebration. It merely heralds the hottest days of August to still get through. Despite being a believing Christian I celebrate Yule instead of Christmas. If you read Matthew the Christ child was born in the spring. Lambing season when shepherds guarded their flocks at night. I come by my love of bonfires from my mother's father who cleaned up his property mostly to burn the dead falls in a huge pile. He was such a pyromaniac that he converted a gasoline furnace for melting lead (he was a retired steamfitter) into a flame thrower for burning out fire ant nests and the like. I would go on to construct a flame thrower of my own out of a yeard smoker. Such great memories. I think I'll have Yule log this year.
I always love to hear your stories. Yule references an astronomical reality, no matter what your historical or cultural association with it. When Jesus was born is rather more unclear. These observations are true no matter what your other beliefs. This, perhaps, points to one of the enduring lessons of our times: we can disagree on some points--we should expect to disagree on some points, every single one of us!--and we should never, ever assume that that disagreement implies a more vast, or complete, disagreement.
I never thought before that during the equinoxes different latitudes could experience the same length of daylight and nighttime. If I understand this correctly, explains why I never quite resolved what some were saying about the length of a day at their latitudes versus mine (all being in the States). Maybe a minor flaw of mine, but major if disorder prevails. In any case, the snake and the temple revelation is awesome.
I taught explicitly about such astronomical/terrestrial realities when I began to take students to the tropics. Olympia, WA, where we were on campus, is about halfway between the equator and the poles, with long lingering Summer days, and short, dark Winter ones. At the equator, night and day length are ~equal all year round. This of course raises the question of why (which I address somewhat in this piece here), but also raises the questions of what effects that will have on the climate of the places in question, and on the organisms that live there. And then we arrive at a kind of Evolutionary Jeopardy (the kind that Bret and I try to play with would-be students in our Peterson Academy course), which is this: Every trait that you observe in an organism is an evolutionary answer to some ecological question. The challenge--and the fun--is in figuring out what those ecological questions are.
I digress from the astronomical / terrestrial realities of the piece, but it is all connected in the end. And oh--another thing that follows from the tilt of the Earth and the seasonality that it brings, is this: dawn and dusk linger longer that farther from the equator you are. The light is bouncing around through more atmosphere, reflected and refracted, leaving a glow. In the tropics, in relatively stark contrast, dawn and dusk are brisk. It is either day, or night, with little in between. As a result, things are particularly interesting in those liminal times, as neither diurnal nor nocturnal creatures are optimized, but many of them are still out and about, trying to make a go of it. Dusk is also when the night monkeys of the Amazon wake up and begin to peer out of the holes in trees where they live, before they emerge and bound through the forest. All so magical.
Animals seem to be less alert at dusk. When I am on my running trail early in the morning, I sometimes get pretty close to herons, foxes, even deer. They seem to be so occupied with, say, heron stuff (finding frogs for breakfast) that they fail to take notice of me.
That is an interesting observation. Dusk is the sunrise for nocturnal creatures. Sounds like they may just be too busy to react to you. "Heron stuff" is a good way to put it. I'm stealing that.
We got to experience the totality of the most recent solar eclipse, and it was stark how quiet and still all of nature got as the sky quickly faded into a deep twilight. It was heavy. Only the evening animals seemed to still be active. I've never thought of twilight in terms of animals being less alert, but I see it now that you mention it.
I love the week! It's a recurring reminder that if God himself needed a day of rest, who are we to think we can get along without it? I'm guessing "Remember the Sabbath" is one of the more frequently ignored of the Ten Commandments.
Lovely! And thanks to your recommendation, I just found a local record store (of which I had no awareness) that carries County Highway. Thrilled to be able to support a physical, quality newspaper and a local business.
This is a delightful and lovely read! Poetry.
Biologists are not supposed to be such eloquent, poetic writers. I guess Heather didn't get the memo. She was probably in some jungle when the memo came out. I think I like jungles.
Thank you. Made me smile.
I like jungles too.
Right?! Our son-in-law is the same. An engineer who's also very good at the "humanities". It's very unusual!
May I blame the schools? One of the clearest lessons I learned in school was that one could like math and science, or English and social studies, but never any other combination, and certainly not all of them at once. I knew I was "math and science" in elementary school -- and the science fiction stories that I loved reinforced the schools' dichotomies. It was decades before I realized how much I love history and writing!
With rare exceptions, this dichotomy is false. If you're good at one thing, you can be good at many things. The more subjects you know, the more you like -- and that goes ten-fold if you're good at them. And the more you enjoy, the better you're going to get.
I'm not just talking about academic subjects, either. Being able to do well at physical tasks -- from running long distances with joy, to plumbing a house, to singing in a choir, to baking a crispy, chewy, flavorful loaf of bread -- somehow these augment and enliven the more intellectual tasks.
My father was an engineer to the core, an excellent writer, an adventuresome cook, an avid hiker, and a reliable handyman. My 20-year-old homeschooled grandson's "higher education" is an apprenticeship as an electrician; he can also write a good short story, bake an exquisite loaf of bread, play the French horn, and create beautiful furniture out of wood. What's more, he recently understood and enjoyed reading Hofstadter's "Gödel, Escher, Bach," which is more than I can say. (If only I could talk him into reading RFK Jr.'s books!)
In an era when we need Renaissance men more than ever, schools are encouraging us to specialize and then "stay in our lane." As if scientists wouldn't benefit from being able to express their ideas clearly and succinctly!
I was an engineering major for two years, and then an English major. It wasn't part of a plan, it's that I was young and feeling my way around. It would have been difficult to be an engineering major with and English minor, or vice versa. Yes, I think schools present as too much of an either/or rather than a combination.
But the reality is that the physical sciences and the humanities are quite different, relative to the approach, so perhaps the two are difficult to meld. In physical science and engineering, nature calls the shots. Imagination must be constrained to what physical reality will allow. In the humanities, physical reality is very nearly shunned in favor of untethered imagination. Oil and water, I guess.
I can easily recognize 'thought leaders' who have no background in the physical sciences. They'll make what they consider to be a good argument, with little concern for whether their ideas can exist in the real world. They are 'for' and 'against', but can't rationally explain why. They just know they're right. Try building a bridge that way!
a beautiful reminder of a magical visit to Chichen Itza... at the "end" of the calendar...
FYI... In Israel we also follow the lunar calendar... alongside the Gregorian... it defines our holiday schedule... our major holidays of Passover and Sukkot always begin on a full moon...
I did not know this--about Passover and Sukkot being tied to lunar cycles--thank you.
This is how you know the USA is not a Xtian nation and hasn't been for over fifty years. Easter and Pesach are intimately coupled. Looks like mine was the last generation that imbibed this with Mum's milk so to speak. I still find it slightly surprising; but this is one of those pieces of "common knowledge" that used to have me railing in high dudgeon at folk being ignorant of it. My mind has ceased boggling but this is another mark of just how far things have unraveled.
Gorgeous piece of writing btw. :-)
Your gift of creating visions, and near-tangible moods, with words is great. Thank you for sharing your talent with the world (which is needful of these sorts of contributions).
"A change in the air."
It's here now in Central (suburban-rural) NJ. The trees 'look' different; there is no way to explain that other than they look as if they know Summer has lost the battle and is retreating, and they are responding from their canopies on down. The crows are loud now. When they caw into coo air in the dewy mornings, you 'know': it's come, that time of year. The momma woodchuck and her four babies she raised in our yard this spring through summer no longer are seen together all at once. The youngsters have separated off because it's that time. The apples and pears are getting ready for us now. (The peaches were especially nice this year in July: sparse, but therefore larger, and not a single worm!). Though we live "in town", the previous owner planted three fruit trees on this half acre 30+ years ago and we are annually grateful to him; though we heard he'd died of cancer a few years ago now, his gift lives on. A continuance amidst the change.
What a exquisite piece to read on what happens to be a beautiful late summer-early fall day here in our corner of earth. Thank you for nudging me to pause and think it all over.
So beautiful. Thank you, as always, for letting me, and us, in to a glimpse of your life. Life among trees. I have lived among trees continuously, I think, since leaving Southern California so many years ago. What I have never had, but have always wanted, is fruit trees. I have fantasized about an orchard, but would have been please with just a couple, a few--enough to prompt fruiting. A gift indeed.
I saw this show up in my inbox this morning. I had some running around to do, but I flagged it to read later today. As fate or luck might have it, Heather just finished reading it on today's Darkhorse podcast. What a fantastic end to the walk I was taking. Thank you Heather and Bret for everything you do, and thank you for making this upcoming journey. While not everyone who wants to be there will be able to make it, I know a lot of us will be with you in "free" spirit Now, onto to all of us getting some things done.
Thank you for this beautiful oasis in my day. I'm in the southern hemisphere, so the light is coming! Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmn!
Ah, light. Metaphor and reality connected by quanta. In North Florida summer solstice is not much cause for celebration. It merely heralds the hottest days of August to still get through. Despite being a believing Christian I celebrate Yule instead of Christmas. If you read Matthew the Christ child was born in the spring. Lambing season when shepherds guarded their flocks at night. I come by my love of bonfires from my mother's father who cleaned up his property mostly to burn the dead falls in a huge pile. He was such a pyromaniac that he converted a gasoline furnace for melting lead (he was a retired steamfitter) into a flame thrower for burning out fire ant nests and the like. I would go on to construct a flame thrower of my own out of a yeard smoker. Such great memories. I think I'll have Yule log this year.
I always love to hear your stories. Yule references an astronomical reality, no matter what your historical or cultural association with it. When Jesus was born is rather more unclear. These observations are true no matter what your other beliefs. This, perhaps, points to one of the enduring lessons of our times: we can disagree on some points--we should expect to disagree on some points, every single one of us!--and we should never, ever assume that that disagreement implies a more vast, or complete, disagreement.
I never thought before that during the equinoxes different latitudes could experience the same length of daylight and nighttime. If I understand this correctly, explains why I never quite resolved what some were saying about the length of a day at their latitudes versus mine (all being in the States). Maybe a minor flaw of mine, but major if disorder prevails. In any case, the snake and the temple revelation is awesome.
I taught explicitly about such astronomical/terrestrial realities when I began to take students to the tropics. Olympia, WA, where we were on campus, is about halfway between the equator and the poles, with long lingering Summer days, and short, dark Winter ones. At the equator, night and day length are ~equal all year round. This of course raises the question of why (which I address somewhat in this piece here), but also raises the questions of what effects that will have on the climate of the places in question, and on the organisms that live there. And then we arrive at a kind of Evolutionary Jeopardy (the kind that Bret and I try to play with would-be students in our Peterson Academy course), which is this: Every trait that you observe in an organism is an evolutionary answer to some ecological question. The challenge--and the fun--is in figuring out what those ecological questions are.
I digress from the astronomical / terrestrial realities of the piece, but it is all connected in the end. And oh--another thing that follows from the tilt of the Earth and the seasonality that it brings, is this: dawn and dusk linger longer that farther from the equator you are. The light is bouncing around through more atmosphere, reflected and refracted, leaving a glow. In the tropics, in relatively stark contrast, dawn and dusk are brisk. It is either day, or night, with little in between. As a result, things are particularly interesting in those liminal times, as neither diurnal nor nocturnal creatures are optimized, but many of them are still out and about, trying to make a go of it. Dusk is also when the night monkeys of the Amazon wake up and begin to peer out of the holes in trees where they live, before they emerge and bound through the forest. All so magical.
Animals seem to be less alert at dusk. When I am on my running trail early in the morning, I sometimes get pretty close to herons, foxes, even deer. They seem to be so occupied with, say, heron stuff (finding frogs for breakfast) that they fail to take notice of me.
That is an interesting observation. Dusk is the sunrise for nocturnal creatures. Sounds like they may just be too busy to react to you. "Heron stuff" is a good way to put it. I'm stealing that.
We got to experience the totality of the most recent solar eclipse, and it was stark how quiet and still all of nature got as the sky quickly faded into a deep twilight. It was heavy. Only the evening animals seemed to still be active. I've never thought of twilight in terms of animals being less alert, but I see it now that you mention it.
The reading of this during the podcast was truly moving... I saw numerous listeners in true awe
I love the week! It's a recurring reminder that if God himself needed a day of rest, who are we to think we can get along without it? I'm guessing "Remember the Sabbath" is one of the more frequently ignored of the Ten Commandments.
Lovely! And thanks to your recommendation, I just found a local record store (of which I had no awareness) that carries County Highway. Thrilled to be able to support a physical, quality newspaper and a local business.
nice piece thank you