Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Seasonal Essay for April
April showers give us a chance once again to ponder the cycle of water as it moves from sky to earth and back to sky again, but through such a tortuous route! Surplus rain, collected in numerous streams, Kayaderosseras, Bog Meadow, Spring Run, pours into lakes Lonely and Saratoga. From here Fish Creek takes water to the Hudson which wends its way to the sea. Evaporation from the sea returns water to the sky once again, a cycle repeated over and over through many millions of years. Particles, eroded from the land and transported in our rivers have a different fate. Some, reaching the mouth of the Hudson, may be carried out to sea, slowly falling to the bottom as the current slows and over the course of many centuries a thick carpet of sediments piles up on the ocean floor reaching as far as 200 miles from shore. Dissolved solids carried in streams don't settle out directly, each kind having a different fate. Silica, upon reaching the sea, may be taken up by minute photosynthetic cells called diatoms and used to build glassy shells within which they live. When these cells die, their houses rain down upon the ocean floor and over great spans of time some deposits of these may be raised above sea level where we can mine them. The resulting fine abrasive is used in silver polish and even toothpaste. When we watch raindrops falling, we can think of their different fates. Some will soak into the earth and be taken up into the tallest trees where they will participate in the making of leaves. Others will evaporate back into the air to fall somewhere else. Still others will be embarking on that long journey to the sea.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Seasonal Essay for March
Some years ago I descended Spuce Mountain with windblown sleet splattering my back. The trail was wide and open making movement easy, freeing my mind and senses for other occupations. At a turn, a valley extended to one side and through it came wind which, added to that already blowing, set the trees into violent swaying, even the larger trunks moving almost to ground level. And the noise! The big trunks creaked and groaned. On top of them the smaller branches, hitting against each other cracked and rattled, and above it all the rushing sound of the wind provided the continuo.
It was too compellintg a scene to leave, so I pulled my square of insulated pad from my shoulder bag and sitting on it, leaned my back against a tree. Dark branches against a uniformly grey sky had their own fast beat, but in addition, each tree crown swayed as an entity, each tree size having its own resonant frequency. The effect was that of rows of dancers, arms upraised, each row bending first right andf then left, but in a direction opposite to that of the rows in front of and behind it, each tree-dancer having not two arms but many. I watched until a lull in the wind signaled intermission and as darkness fell I plodded homeward to offer a review of the performance.
It was too compellintg a scene to leave, so I pulled my square of insulated pad from my shoulder bag and sitting on it, leaned my back against a tree. Dark branches against a uniformly grey sky had their own fast beat, but in addition, each tree crown swayed as an entity, each tree size having its own resonant frequency. The effect was that of rows of dancers, arms upraised, each row bending first right andf then left, but in a direction opposite to that of the rows in front of and behind it, each tree-dancer having not two arms but many. I watched until a lull in the wind signaled intermission and as darkness fell I plodded homeward to offer a review of the performance.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
February Seasonal Essay
Winter offers us a chance to note again that among living organisms, each act of creation has its destructive counterpart. each great tree, rising out of the forest floor, finds many of its building materials among the ruins of former plants and animals. In addition, each forest creature throughout its life, sheds its used and worn-out parts onto the ground to be broken into its chemical constituents and recycled once again. We are fully aware of this in the fall when the great mass of leaves, generated through spring and early summer, having fulfilled their task of food manufacture, are cast free. But we are not so aware that this process of shedding continues in some degree throughout the year. In winter we see this especially clearly.
However pure the white new-fallen snows of February may be, in the woods they quickly lose their virginity. Soon they become littered with myriad dark fragments, some formless, others with clear and recognizable form repeated again and again. The last-remaining portions of birch catkins litter the snow and open cones of hemlocks and pines, shaken by the wind, shed the last of their more tenacious seeds. Strong wind loosens some of the last remaining leaves of oaks and beeches. A pile of wood chips at the base of a tree is readily explained by looking upward at the squared hole made by a Pileated Woodpecker. Masses of tiny black specks in snow hollows are jumping! They are insect-like springtails. And everywhere are fragments of bark, loosened by growth in girth of trees. The whiteness of snow gives the perfect background on which to display the products of the never-ending process of shedding, of life and death.
However pure the white new-fallen snows of February may be, in the woods they quickly lose their virginity. Soon they become littered with myriad dark fragments, some formless, others with clear and recognizable form repeated again and again. The last-remaining portions of birch catkins litter the snow and open cones of hemlocks and pines, shaken by the wind, shed the last of their more tenacious seeds. Strong wind loosens some of the last remaining leaves of oaks and beeches. A pile of wood chips at the base of a tree is readily explained by looking upward at the squared hole made by a Pileated Woodpecker. Masses of tiny black specks in snow hollows are jumping! They are insect-like springtails. And everywhere are fragments of bark, loosened by growth in girth of trees. The whiteness of snow gives the perfect background on which to display the products of the never-ending process of shedding, of life and death.
Monday, December 27, 2010
January Seasonal Essay
It is a great pleasure to walk in snowy woods, but if the snow is deep it is hard work. The answer? More flotation, walk on top of the snow the way snowshoe hares do, get a pair of snowshoes and poles. Snowshoeing has become a popular winter activity. Even 15 years ago there were over 600,000 people involved in it in the USA. Snowshoes were in use by Native Americans when Europeans first arrived and were quickly adopted by them. These ingenious snow-walking implements may well have come from Siberia as the first people to inhabit the Americas crossed Bering Straight, and probably were invented in Asia many thousands of years ago.
There are several sizes and shapes of snowshoes and if you are thinking about getting into this activity, in order to choose wisely I suggest that you look at any of the several books on the subject in the Saratoga Springs Public Library. Search nonfiction call number 796.92 which is where I obtained the information above. This will help you to match the snowshoes you buy to the kind of snowshoeing you contemplate: flat ground on trails, racing, or taking off into the woods. You could also rent a pair for the day and see how it goes.
There are some fine areas around Saratoga Springs for this recreation. You could begin hiking in the State Park or at the Saratoga Battlefield. In many trailless areas snow travel is much easier than going through summer woods littered with a tangle of brush and fallen branches. If you can navigate with map and compass, try the plateau that lies west of us, its slopes are not steep. Start at Lake Desolation and head northward to Spruce Mountain, descending the trail to the parking lot which requires someone to pick you up there. I have snowshoed on the Tongue Mountain penninsula where there are beautiful views of Lake George. A good way to do this is to have two people or groups of people, one group starting at one end of the trek and the other at the opposite end. They pass each other somewhere near the middle of the roughly four-hour hike and then drive home in each other's cars.
It is especially rewarding to walk in the woods in new fallen snow, untroddden by anyone before us. The silence is complete and that white covering is the very image of purity. One time, while snowshoeing in January, with snow falling steadily in windless deep woods, I came to a thin branch across my path on which snowflakes were accumulating. With hand raised to push it aside, I stopped, suddenly aware that in this thin line of snow perhaps an inch or so high, each flake was intact, its six sculptured arms unbroken. The whole was a naturally formed vitrine of cut glass.
There are several sizes and shapes of snowshoes and if you are thinking about getting into this activity, in order to choose wisely I suggest that you look at any of the several books on the subject in the Saratoga Springs Public Library. Search nonfiction call number 796.92 which is where I obtained the information above. This will help you to match the snowshoes you buy to the kind of snowshoeing you contemplate: flat ground on trails, racing, or taking off into the woods. You could also rent a pair for the day and see how it goes.
There are some fine areas around Saratoga Springs for this recreation. You could begin hiking in the State Park or at the Saratoga Battlefield. In many trailless areas snow travel is much easier than going through summer woods littered with a tangle of brush and fallen branches. If you can navigate with map and compass, try the plateau that lies west of us, its slopes are not steep. Start at Lake Desolation and head northward to Spruce Mountain, descending the trail to the parking lot which requires someone to pick you up there. I have snowshoed on the Tongue Mountain penninsula where there are beautiful views of Lake George. A good way to do this is to have two people or groups of people, one group starting at one end of the trek and the other at the opposite end. They pass each other somewhere near the middle of the roughly four-hour hike and then drive home in each other's cars.
It is especially rewarding to walk in the woods in new fallen snow, untroddden by anyone before us. The silence is complete and that white covering is the very image of purity. One time, while snowshoeing in January, with snow falling steadily in windless deep woods, I came to a thin branch across my path on which snowflakes were accumulating. With hand raised to push it aside, I stopped, suddenly aware that in this thin line of snow perhaps an inch or so high, each flake was intact, its six sculptured arms unbroken. The whole was a naturally formed vitrine of cut glass.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Seasonal Essay for December
For us, this is the month of our shortest day. Our tilted earth in its yearly passage around the sun is at the place where the North Pole is furthest from the sun and where we, looking up at that sun, see it at its southmost point. It therefore takes less time for those of us north of the equator on our rotating earth to pass by it. While we're having shorter days of winter, our neighbors south of the equator are having their long days of summer.
Day length has its effects on both plants and animals. Increasing day length brings about enlargement of the gonads in birds in preparation for the breeding season, and decreasing day length is a cue for migratory northern birds to head south. Some plants exhibit short day flowering while others are long day plants.
Dark days can have dark effects on our psyche and so it is the season of festivals, of ways to lighten the spirit. Peoples of antiquity in regions of Romania saw the bright side of the darkest day and called it, "the birthday of the invincible sun," the beginning of longer days.
No wonder ancient people worshipped the sun and struggled to plot its varying paths through the sky. It gives us warmth and that wonderful light that makes possible this chromatic world in which we live.
Day length has its effects on both plants and animals. Increasing day length brings about enlargement of the gonads in birds in preparation for the breeding season, and decreasing day length is a cue for migratory northern birds to head south. Some plants exhibit short day flowering while others are long day plants.
Dark days can have dark effects on our psyche and so it is the season of festivals, of ways to lighten the spirit. Peoples of antiquity in regions of Romania saw the bright side of the darkest day and called it, "the birthday of the invincible sun," the beginning of longer days.
No wonder ancient people worshipped the sun and struggled to plot its varying paths through the sky. It gives us warmth and that wonderful light that makes possible this chromatic world in which we live.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Essay for November
By November, trees have once again finished the cycle of leaf growth and shedding, leaving them stark again, to display their skeletal branches against winter skies. There can be as many as 200,000 leaves (two tons) lost from a large maple tree, but there is still living tissue remaining after they have fallen. Between the bark and the wood, a persistent thin elongate branching cone of delicate tissue provides growth in diameter. That is why bark and wood are fairly easily separated. In addition, inner bark and outer wood are also composed of living tissue.
But much of the total mass of a tree, the inner wood and the outer bark, is material that once was living, but now is dead. This forms the skeleton of the tree which supports its own weight and flexibly resists the enormous force of the wind which in summer especially presses upon the considerable surface area of its leaves and branches.
Trees, by their enormous size in comparison with ourselves, inspire awe and in former times, worship. Many kinds of trees live longer than we do, a few for many centuries. Some individual trees, known by our grandparents, will be known by our grandchildren. They survive defoliation by insects, fungal and viral infections, fire, and they heal after physical injury. Trees serve us as fuel, as building material, as the raw material of paper, and they give us fruit and nuts to eat. Several of our medications came initially from trees, though some now are synthesized (aspirin from willows, a cancer drug from yews).
When a forest tree dies and falls to the ground, it is food and shelter for a long succession of creatures until finally there remains only a barely detectable elongate mound on the forest floor.
But much of the total mass of a tree, the inner wood and the outer bark, is material that once was living, but now is dead. This forms the skeleton of the tree which supports its own weight and flexibly resists the enormous force of the wind which in summer especially presses upon the considerable surface area of its leaves and branches.
Trees, by their enormous size in comparison with ourselves, inspire awe and in former times, worship. Many kinds of trees live longer than we do, a few for many centuries. Some individual trees, known by our grandparents, will be known by our grandchildren. They survive defoliation by insects, fungal and viral infections, fire, and they heal after physical injury. Trees serve us as fuel, as building material, as the raw material of paper, and they give us fruit and nuts to eat. Several of our medications came initially from trees, though some now are synthesized (aspirin from willows, a cancer drug from yews).
When a forest tree dies and falls to the ground, it is food and shelter for a long succession of creatures until finally there remains only a barely detectable elongate mound on the forest floor.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Seasonal Essay for October
In the clear skies of October we are encouraged to look upward and marvel at the vastness of the universe. The book, "October Skies", and its derivative movie tell of a teenager with a driving fascination with rocket propulsion. It is by such means that in the far distant future, humankind may break free from a decaying solar system and seek another home. Even now, with robotic travel to Mars and other planets, we are taking the first tentative steps toward that ultimate necessity.
It was in the 1950's that I heard the astronomer Harlow Shapley tell of Edwin Hubble's finding in 1924 that many of those stars we see in such profusion are not suns like ours, but great numbers of clustered suns like our Milky Way galaxy, though far distant from it. Many astronomers think it reasonable to suppose, there being such an enormous number of galaxies, each containing within it such an enormous number of suns, that among these suns must be some with planets which are similar enough to ours to support life as we know it. Already astronomers have detected 490 such extrasolar planets within our own galaxy. It comforts me to think, as George Wald the Harvard physiologist expressed it, that it is possible if not probable that, if our life on earth should somehow destroy itself or not escape our planet home before it self-destructs, there will be life forming somewhere else in some far distant star or galaxy and we wish it well.
It was in the 1950's that I heard the astronomer Harlow Shapley tell of Edwin Hubble's finding in 1924 that many of those stars we see in such profusion are not suns like ours, but great numbers of clustered suns like our Milky Way galaxy, though far distant from it. Many astronomers think it reasonable to suppose, there being such an enormous number of galaxies, each containing within it such an enormous number of suns, that among these suns must be some with planets which are similar enough to ours to support life as we know it. Already astronomers have detected 490 such extrasolar planets within our own galaxy. It comforts me to think, as George Wald the Harvard physiologist expressed it, that it is possible if not probable that, if our life on earth should somehow destroy itself or not escape our planet home before it self-destructs, there will be life forming somewhere else in some far distant star or galaxy and we wish it well.
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