tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90681432024-03-07T13:59:34.131-05:00A Bad Idea Poorly ExecutedAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517671984531145034noreply@blogger.comBlogger899125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9068143.post-89097048103834232772016-10-26T21:29:00.002-04:002016-10-26T21:29:40.530-04:00Peanuts!All right folks, it's time to learn about where food comes from!<br />
Specifically today, it's peanuts.<br />
Peanuts come from the ground! And the sun! Like all food, when you get down to it, including meat, since animals eat plants. But really.<br />
As you no doubt vaguely remember from school, a peanut is a legume. A simpler word would be "bean." Yes, peanuts are beans. So are chickpeas and favas and snow peas; hummus is just bean dip with a better agent. Peanuts are unique in the bean world, though, because they're more or less the only bean that grows underground. (Okay, so, there are about 70 species in the peanut genus, some of which share the peanut's frankly bizarre growth habits, and one or two from related genera, but that's it. There are over 19,000 species of beans.)<br />
Say you want some peanuts and there are no stores anywhere around because of a recent zombie apocalypse (which has apparently since subsided, but that's another story). But luckily you happen to have a raw peanut (why? I don't know; again, there's clearly more to this story). (Also, this doesn't work with a roasted peanut. Cooked seeds mostly don't grow very well...although I once had an ash tree seed germinate after it went through the dryer in the pocket of my shorts so maybe this needs to be investigated more thoroughly.)<br />
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So anyway, you stick that raw peanut in the ground. You should shell it first; wild peanut ancestors have much thinner shells that allow water in and the germinating seedling out, but we've bred peanuts for tougher shells so we can roast them and ship them and eat them at ballgames and litter the floors of "roadhouse" style restaurants with them. <br />
If the ground is warm enough, the peanut will germinate and grow. It's a pretty little plant. After a few weeks, it will start flowering. These pretty yellow flowers are a nice treat. Notice how many there in just a small area!<br />
They don't have much smell. Anyway, an individual flower is only open for a day. After pollination (it's self-fertile, so if the zombie apocalypse in this scenario also affected bees, you're still okay), the flower drops off, and the stem becomes what's called a 'peg,' a stiff downward pointing stem with a slightly hardened tip. This tip penetrates the soil--hopefully you planted it is some nice sandy loam, and not clay--and once the plant perceives that it is below ground, the end of the peg starts to swell. (Yes, plants perceive whether they are receiving light or not, but not in a way you'd recognize as 'seeing' and not in a conscious sense. It's all electrobiochemistry and fairies.)<br />
The peg, you see, had a secret--it was actually the peanut ovary. You just wouldn't have noticed because it was tiny. <br />
Once below ground, the ovary swells into a little peanut, and eventually into a big peanut. The plant will continue to flower and produce new pegs and peanuts for quite a while, as long as it stays sunny and warm. As autumn comes on it will stop flowering as much, and gradually start to die back; peanuts are annuals and don't live through the winter. But if you wait for the plant to die, you're too late: most of the peanut shells will have succumbed to the constant assault of water and microbes that life in the soil entails, and you'll have mostly a bunch of rotten garbage. So you want to harvest in mid-Autumn sometime, before any frost but after the bulk of the heat of summer is past. <br />
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And this is what you'll get: a bunch of peanuts in various stages of ripeness. <br />
Generally if the peanut looks like a peanut, it's edible. In this picture there are some little proto-peanuts, but mostly good mature peanuts. You can see how they are attached to the pegs, and the pegs are attached to the stems of the plant. So there you have it: peanuts grow below ground, like potatoes and rutabagas. (Not that they are at all related to either of those things.) <br />
You may wonder, why on Earth does the peanut do this to itself? I mean, I have some perfectly nice runner beans out there growing on vines, flowering and producing pods right out in the sunshine, and even some nice bush butterpeas doing the same thing. They seem to be just fine.<br />
The truth is nobody knows why. It's just what peanuts do. For whatever reason the progenitor of the <i>Arachis</i> genus found it beneficial to grow this way; perhaps some predatory animal ate all the peanuts that weren't underground, gradually selecting for this growth habit. <br />
What we do know is that the current version of the peanut, <i>Arachis hypogaea</i>, arose from wild progenitors in what is now northwestern Argentina, probably 8000-9000 years ago. The wild relative can still be found in the Chaco area, but it's a very different plant. Your domesticated peanut will have had a nice compact form, although low to the ground and gradually spreading--if you only planted the one, and it was a happy plant (like mine), maybe it would cover about a 3 foot diameter area. In cultivation, they're planted in rows 30" apart, with individual plants about a foot apart in the rows. This keeps them nice and compact and allows them to completely cover the soil and choke out weeds. The wild relative is a vine that rambles along the ground and drops a peg into the soil every few inches; the nuts are much smaller, and almost exclusively come one to a pod (which are called unipeas. Yes, they are; when there's only one seed in the peanut pod it's a unipea and nobody can tell me otherwise). The shells are also thinner with heavier webbing. But that's what a few thousand years of domestication will do for you.<br />
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Once harvest time comes around you basically have to go in there by hand and carefully, gently pull the plant out of the ground. Mine came out in two parts. I left about a dozen peanuts behind, but was able to sift through the soil to find them. For many many years in the South kids could get a couple weeks work in the fall harvesting peanuts by hand, but the engineers have figured out a way to mechanize the process without leaving too many peanuts behind. Since you only have the one plant--and in the post-zombie landscape you probably aren't going to find a working peanut harvester, much less someone competent to operate it--you'll dig yours up by hand, turn it upside down, and leave it in the sun for a day or two. Then you can pop the little peanuts off and toss the plant in the compost heap for next year. <br />
You'll want to roast them, of course, unless you'd rather boil them. <br />
You'd rather boil them. <br />
If you aren't familiar with boiled peanuts, what are you doing with your life? Get down South and try some! In any event you'll want to process them somehow before you eat them, although they <b>are</b> edible raw. Be sure to set a few aside before you boil them, so you can plant them again next year. <br />
(Note: in reality, if you started your peanut farm with a single peanut, you'd create what's called a genetic bottleneck: your entire farm would consist of plants that had only those gene versions--called alleles--that were present in your first nut. This is a recipe for disaster, since you've only got two possible resistance genes for any given disease (and more likely you have none), and the whole population will be highly susceptible to any disease or insect that comes along. This is called a 'monoculture', a huge field of genetically identical plants, and it's not a very smart way to ensure your survival as a species. Of course after the zombie apocalypse humanity itself will have gone through a pretty severe genetic bottleneck.)<br />
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/wUcsQwJXCvPV7JHKm_nyRAFlcCV2EZf4sEfDDm80DLig81D9U8BjiEWXIixf2gbfYbWspw=s400" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/wUcsQwJXCvPV7JHKm_nyRAFlcCV2EZf4sEfDDm80DLig81D9U8BjiEWXIixf2gbfYbWspw=s400" width="180" /></a>Incidentally, peanuts are a super crop to grow once in a while if you have a garden or just some unused land (note: lawns count as unused land. You do nothing but spend money on it. At least put some plants out there that will give you something back for your time and expense). Why? Well, like all beans (and certain other plants), peanuts are best friends with some little bacteria that normally live quiet, boring lives in the soil. But when a peanut plant sends down roots, the roots exude a chemical that signals to the bored little microbes that it's time to party. They associate with the root, and the peanut plant sends some tasty carbohydrates their way. They feast on these, and in return, they take nitrogen in the soil and atmosphere and turn it from a boring, useless gas (which really doesn't do anything for your tires that regular air won't do, regardless of what the ads say) into ammonia. Plants can't do that by themselves; neither can animals. In order to get nitrogen into your body--and without nitrogen, you can't make any proteins, enzymes, even your DNA--it first has to be fixed into ammonia by these little microbes. Much of the nitrogen they fix gets absorbed by the peanut plant (which is why you compost the plant rather than putting at the the curb in a garbage bag), although plenty of it stays behind in the soil when the microbes die, and is left there for other microbes and plants and soil-dwelling animals, which is how it gets into the food supply. This picture is of a peanut root--all those little bumps are called nodules. Each nodule grows from a single root hair, which is colonized by several microbes. Each nodule is a protective home for a batch of microbes as they churn out ammonia.<br />
So there you have it. Peanuts! <br />
Next time: pumpkins! Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517671984531145034noreply@blogger.com56tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9068143.post-80496043782845990802016-08-03T22:05:00.001-04:002016-08-03T22:05:09.745-04:00Sorghum breedingStrictly speaking I work in corn breeding. But that's just what I do at work. (I also have some at-home corn breeding experiments planned for next year.) At home, I breed pumpkins and sorghum. <br />
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Here is some sorghum.</div>
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This is a mix of things. The paper bags on two of the plants are there mainly to keep the birds from eating all the grain (although they're really pollination bags). You may notice a single very tall plant in the back (it's hard to see because it's so narrow and the grain head hasn't emerged yet). That is a breed of popping sorghum called Allu Jola, which I've never grown before. But in front of that are six plants of the variety I call Smitty's Dwarf. You may notice that the three on the left are not especially short. They're a bit shorter than the grain sorghum I started with, but they're nothing special. The three on the right are a bit shorter. None of these are great, though. (Still, I want the grain this year. Last year the birds ate almost everything.)</div>
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Last year I planted about 40 plants of a standard white grain sorghum originally from Kansas. The average plant was about five feet tall. I want a dwarf plant. (Why? I don't know. I just wanted a project. I tell people my goal is to breed up a high-yielding dwarf that I could grow to sell to brewers for a gluten-free malt. But that would probably require that I actually malt the grain, and I don't have the capacity to do that. If you'd like to donate to a Kickstarter that would allow me to buy both a set of commercial ovens and 25 acres of farmland....)</div>
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After last season I selected the two shortest plants, and retained the grain from them. I would have preferred four or eight plants, but have I mentioned the birds? Grosbeaks LOVE sorghum.</div>
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This sorghum is a good bit shorter than that in the first picture. You can see one of the regular-height plants here on the far right, and the six shorter plants in the plot to the left. You may also see the popcorn that's growing behind the six shorter plants. I strongly suspect proximity to the much more vigorous popcorn might have something to do with how short these plants are relative to the ones in the first picture. It's tough to say, and I'll include these plants among the total when I select the shortest ones for next year, but it's impossible to say whether this is the genetics or the environment at work. (Notice also the big batch of river oats intruding from the left side of the picture; this sorghum is hemmed in on all sides. Next year the sorghum is getting a big plot all to itself.)<br />
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So. Sorghum is self-fertile, like most plants. This means that I could plant a single sorghum plant and, assuming there was a bit of wind while it was shedding pollen, the pollen from that one plant would pollinate the ovaries on that plant and I'd get fertile seed. The fertilization rate wouldn't be great, although I could slip a bag over it and capture the pollen and hope to get better fertilization. <br />
When multiple plants are around, though, sorghum plants can cross-pollinate. Pollen from one plant may get blown around and fertilize ovaries on another plant. There's no way for the plant breeder to know when that happens (hence the paper bags). Plants in the field like mine, left uncovered, are referred to as "open-pollinated." I'm not deliberately trying to self- or cross-pollinate them. In an open situation, the percentage of seeds that arise from pollen from a different plant is referred to as the "outcrossing rate." In a large field of grain sorghum outcrossing rates may range from about 7% to 35%, although research has reported outcrossing in certain varieties and environments all the way from 0% to 100%. The 100% rate seems impossible and I'm suspicious of the methods of the researchers who reported it.<br />
Anyway, in my yard, since the sorghum isn't terribly close together, I expect a fairly low outcrossing rate. And since I'm putting bags up before the last 1/3 of the seeds are pollinated, that's reducing my total outcrossing rate. (If I'm being diligent, and I don't want to ensure selfed plants, I'll select seeds for next year exclusively from the top 2/3 of the seedheads, which pollinated before the bags went on. Or, if I do want selfed plants, I'll select from the bottom 1/3. I haven't decided which I'm going for yet.) <br />
So, I'll select the shortest 10 or 20% of plants, and take 20 or so seeds from each one (this is easy, because sorghum makes hundred or thousands of seeds per plant). I'll put the seeds in labelled packets and sow them in blocks next year. Then I can both compare how the blocks perform against each other, and how the individual plants within each block perform. I'll self-pollinate the ones I like best and continue. Because of the way plant genomes work, it takes several generations of self-pollination to get a batch of plants that are truly genetically identical If I had acre upon acre (and days upon days, and funding from an interested party) I'd self ALL of them and plant a whole huge field with 150 or 200 plots and try to get several different lines out of it. But this is a side project.<br />
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Now here's an interesting candidate plant. You can't quite tell in this picture, but this plant is only a foot tall. It's extraordinarily short, shorter than even dwarf rice and wheat are. Possibly this is a mutant, or it has a disease (it is yellowing early), or a virus, or some other condition that's causing this. If it's a mutant, hooray! By self-pollinating it, and then selecting the dwarfiest of its progeny and selfing them, and so on for four or five generations, I should be able to isolate a population of foot-high sorghum. Provided it also actually produces a decent yield (this plant has a surprisingly large grain head considering how small and yellow it is) and is reasonably disease tolerant, this would constitute the end goal of the Smitty's Dwarf project. I might even apply for a patent on it. But that would be several years down the road.<br />
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That stunted dwarf is only one of the interesting plants I got in this year's batch. <br />
This picture has several interesting things going on. (Okay, I know that when I say "interesting," what I mean is, "interesting to me." But you're reading this. Whoever you are.)<br />
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If you click on the picture to blow it up, you'll see a few markings. The two plants with the brown bags are about 3 feet high or so, which is pretty dwarven as sorghums go. And marked with a red A is the white tassel bag from the micro plant pictured above. It is REALLY short.<br />
Above you see C and D. These refer to two of the key elements of sorghum plant height: C is the height between the "flag leaf" (the very top leaf, just below the grain head), and the second leaf. In all these short plants, the main leaves are quite close together, and then there's some greater distance between the second leaf and the flag leaf. In regular plants, those distances are all about the same. This suggests that the distance between leaves (called the "internode length" because each leaf is a node) is not controlled by the same gene as the distance between the flag leaf and the second leaf. Additionally, at D, you can see that in these two plants, there's a significant difference in length between the flag leaf and the start of the grain head (which is right at the bottom of the bags). In a large-scale planting, you want the distance between flag leaf and grain to be as great as possible, and uniform across all the plants in the field. Otherwise you're likely to end up with a lot of leaf and stem trash in your harvest. So, as a breeder, I will be selecting for long D lengths and shorter C lengths. Assuming I can find such a thing.<br />
Then, over on the right, there's plant B. Sorghum can look a lot like corn when it's allowed to grow tall, but it really acts more like wheat or barley. These are traditional small grasses. The seed germinates and produces leaves and a stem. Then, once there are three or four leaves, the plant stops making new leaves and instead creates a new little stem off to one side, which will produce its own leaves and eventually its own grain head. These little side stems are called "tillers" and almost all grasses make them, including corn and sorghum. In corn, the tillers are a nuisance, often sterile or with one of those combined tassel/ear things I've posted pictures of. Tillers tend to be a nuisance in sorghum, too, not because they don't produce viable seed--they do--but because they are generally shorter and much later maturing than the main stem, so the seeds aren't ready when harvest time comes along and even if they were, the combine won't cut them because they'll be so much shorter than the main grain head. <br />
In wheat, barley, and rice, however, the plants add new tillers throughout the growing season, then, responding to a change in day length or temperature (or both), all the tillers will produce a grain spike at the same time. So when you see a field of wheat, say, and you go out and look and count 30 or 40 separate spikes, those could be from as few as one or two plants. This means you can get a field full of grain with fewer seeds.<br />
Now, a single grain spike of wheat or two-row barley might have 24 or 30 seeds max. A single spike of sorghum can have over 3,000 (although in a typical field it's likely to be substantially less). But you need one seed for each spike. What if we could get sorghum to grow like wheat--make a bunch of tillers at the beginning of the season, and send up all the grain heads at the same time? Potentially, this could mean more grain comes out of the field with less seed being planted. Since seed is a substantial cost to farmers, this would make sorghum much more economical to grow.<br />
Well, that's what plant B in the picture above looks like. It produced five tillers (for six total stems) before it started flowering, and it looks like all six grain heads will be flowering within about a week of each other. (In the picture, I have spikes 1-5 labelled. The sixth one is actually hiding directly behind number 1.) I didn't expect to see anything like this and actually almost tore the plant out last month because it looked so...broken. I'm glad I didn't. Each of the six grain heads is smaller than the one head on most of the other plants, but taken as a group I suspect they might be much bigger. Given that this plant is growing in the same soil and within two feet of several other plants that look normal, I really don't (want to) think this is an environmental effect (although, again, viruses can do very strange and unexpected things to plants). So this is now sorghum project number two: a tillering sorghum (Smitty's Tillering Sorghum sounds pretty bad, so for now I'm calling it Hydra). If this turns out to be a trait that can be passed down, and again the plant isn't for some other reason horrible, this could be a very interesting side project. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517671984531145034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9068143.post-40642674925244109772016-01-02T21:10:00.001-05:002016-01-02T21:10:55.860-05:00Cotton BlossomsCotton is nifty. You may not know very much about it; I didn't, when I started working in crop science. We have a lot of cotton plants growing in the Phytotron at NC State, and today at work I took some pictures of various stages of cotton flowers. <br />
Cotton is a tropical perennial, and can live for several years and grow quite large. Unusually for perennials it blooms in the first year on new growth, so we culture it as an annual. Typically for a perennial, it is slow to germinate and seedlings are not vigorous. It develops branches at each leaf node on the main stem, and a boll develops at the leaf nodes along the branches. You get more cotton with more branches, but the more branched the plant is the harder it is to grow as a row crop, the more likely the leaves on the lower branches won't get much sunlight, and thus the less likely that the lowest branches won't ultimately develop bolls. Most of cotton breeding has consisted of managing these variables: stronger seedlings, taller, straighter plants with upright branches that can capture enough sun to produce multiple bolls in a single growing season. A researcher here at NC State is even trying to manipulate the shape of leaves at different levels of the plant to allow more light through the top of the canopy while capturing as much as possible at the bottom.<br />
Anyway.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZJRPa8b2eBrrX70zyhJ7l9cKD-85DEmJY3mhjhDPAIQgmXb8UMh8uZctg06JsQRXyaMP_YUUrbio6dyfExY047KVnGQZImG9qLTW3em0Fhxt9wLrGA-WSdkLBJeQjhXOCfXZV9A/s1600/1+Babies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZJRPa8b2eBrrX70zyhJ7l9cKD-85DEmJY3mhjhDPAIQgmXb8UMh8uZctg06JsQRXyaMP_YUUrbio6dyfExY047KVnGQZImG9qLTW3em0Fhxt9wLrGA-WSdkLBJeQjhXOCfXZV9A/s320/1+Babies.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here we see some little wee leaves and blossoms just getting their start in life on a new stem. Your T-shirt and jeans start here.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdA1QivpjPSlCsX-JNG0n36C3hdGsHQMssRbFMrNHy13qDQNkZKXhxUiHOjZiPqIKhpHkLmIm06zvFooNsnl4NgsRFAchb17uPk1f5Thps11aExUzBzyHern7gOiW3E_1lLPoeZw/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdA1QivpjPSlCsX-JNG0n36C3hdGsHQMssRbFMrNHy13qDQNkZKXhxUiHOjZiPqIKhpHkLmIm06zvFooNsnl4NgsRFAchb17uPk1f5Thps11aExUzBzyHern7gOiW3E_1lLPoeZw/s320/2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another day or two goes by and the flower bud becomes clearly visible.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO7SHpNHpNoxmuoRVX0A1IDFF_zbL7NMA8zaAxuB_5d0RMzCr7A7luru97BLnrwcaRNq-8ijB7W1LVwHk4OCtnUU-OD162Y1j9Xa32097p9o4P8baP2AW2pxtrXrDTuOqFRVcSEQ/s1600/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO7SHpNHpNoxmuoRVX0A1IDFF_zbL7NMA8zaAxuB_5d0RMzCr7A7luru97BLnrwcaRNq-8ijB7W1LVwHk4OCtnUU-OD162Y1j9Xa32097p9o4P8baP2AW2pxtrXrDTuOqFRVcSEQ/s320/3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the left is another flower bud. I could not find anything between the stage there on the left, and the fully open flower on the right. Note the fully open flower is white with widely separated petals. This will last for just a few hours.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqheHb5Oe9-uJsEBlJI2Iq_byxIDRZZy4PuZe4MdcAQeIxhGMHxCvEE1pInciDNKOolisBbzT7b2QnaumA9XBNpjCc2FHZjn_2Nq5dw6aZNEoHNyQkcagt4RzPOZ2vuk28sDcyGw/s1600/4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqheHb5Oe9-uJsEBlJI2Iq_byxIDRZZy4PuZe4MdcAQeIxhGMHxCvEE1pInciDNKOolisBbzT7b2QnaumA9XBNpjCc2FHZjn_2Nq5dw6aZNEoHNyQkcagt4RzPOZ2vuk28sDcyGw/s320/4.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is just a few hours later. Still white, but the petals are beginning to fold up.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggejpWVbQrW5KRkQvoLjzo5K3kassZnm3buMUkc_jFxRlpbvDYpDXw1TYF06erYH1Gm0GIddlWdi788gzFnKNghgezgoD4TRr6MJBuPlY3ZhSl_lfSlBBxV4iktIaAqM3Cubhw6g/s1600/5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggejpWVbQrW5KRkQvoLjzo5K3kassZnm3buMUkc_jFxRlpbvDYpDXw1TYF06erYH1Gm0GIddlWdi788gzFnKNghgezgoD4TRr6MJBuPlY3ZhSl_lfSlBBxV4iktIaAqM3Cubhw6g/s320/5.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A few hours later still. The petals have all folded. Note that the flower is open for just a few hours of a single day. Still white, though.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbd-yZySANm2LwvT183rQY30hCgjIoMrUUPNLKH7ZS0R4GIaaplOnit0-ejLV9uNva62QD7EFlVx3o5G00ZCTzKJj4NWbLmW_zvFu5d3LFC9YgHtNlFGCX9pQfJXLo9rHQeXD00A/s1600/6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbd-yZySANm2LwvT183rQY30hCgjIoMrUUPNLKH7ZS0R4GIaaplOnit0-ejLV9uNva62QD7EFlVx3o5G00ZCTzKJj4NWbLmW_zvFu5d3LFC9YgHtNlFGCX9pQfJXLo9rHQeXD00A/s320/6.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here just the barest hint of pink is beginning to show up at the edges of the petals.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlXieAW9crJxBuW9gr81IuAJoKFHLUXl1kJWB8TUcJYjrUX-JVi468dPoEXI3POzAoAF1p8XGLqXXd_dVnyqVTl-ngmtxtKyRoVQpJPJyCgOkKKykbqLVpPP4XWoPReGK2gj_KKQ/s1600/7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlXieAW9crJxBuW9gr81IuAJoKFHLUXl1kJWB8TUcJYjrUX-JVi468dPoEXI3POzAoAF1p8XGLqXXd_dVnyqVTl-ngmtxtKyRoVQpJPJyCgOkKKykbqLVpPP4XWoPReGK2gj_KKQ/s320/7.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just a bit more pink.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtGxB65aFZj6Uw-eMlpKN4eD2dUSIoGNLuKfr5Xzs74kv2GZe6q7D2nwYRjnWGu9cLCEtrHEN2bQ4bcv81qif_XgyXNrZ8Rsp_xpijG6y_iv7PZagkX1dHe1hIcQxfjeZTLHAUGQ/s1600/8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtGxB65aFZj6Uw-eMlpKN4eD2dUSIoGNLuKfr5Xzs74kv2GZe6q7D2nwYRjnWGu9cLCEtrHEN2bQ4bcv81qif_XgyXNrZ8Rsp_xpijG6y_iv7PZagkX1dHe1hIcQxfjeZTLHAUGQ/s320/8.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Now we have quite a nice slightly pink flower. This flower is done; it's been pollinated by now, if it's going to be, although pollination isn't necessary to get a boll. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyAZSc8ApzPDm62J-UwbO72NbaLf-njHKaIYPGT8QmsS7akXBA4P-WcA2J3DqTKGu2fDV5xl47dRegnW5Vy6HY6K7cnwWTgEql6m0XReFh35ltpD-dEw49BYHl_jZSlf_dns3eEA/s1600/9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyAZSc8ApzPDm62J-UwbO72NbaLf-njHKaIYPGT8QmsS7akXBA4P-WcA2J3DqTKGu2fDV5xl47dRegnW5Vy6HY6K7cnwWTgEql6m0XReFh35ltpD-dEw49BYHl_jZSlf_dns3eEA/s320/9.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A bit more time passes, a bit more pink.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Hib0cAzLyZa_YbQJJNKWj2vAG2zZZOF4HoVkW74-NXcRc1-49zUI3tE_7bIJbH4goIEUlnXQjXpVc4YyYV0-cbxqgAM17mqk9EGzbyeyMF6gCMJ9FPaZw3c-dokS-SV0c5Yw4A/s1600/10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Hib0cAzLyZa_YbQJJNKWj2vAG2zZZOF4HoVkW74-NXcRc1-49zUI3tE_7bIJbH4goIEUlnXQjXpVc4YyYV0-cbxqgAM17mqk9EGzbyeyMF6gCMJ9FPaZw3c-dokS-SV0c5Yw4A/s320/10.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As you can see the petals are starting to wilt and sag.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5S2ejlfbkBwBpJf1ITmbT8eHwvdSxOtd8mBZW2Jte1Wboxa0aSvb_UuRlPx7VxDPh98JbDKrXc-jVSBdaapFAfV_o6sFjyDCqDuaAMKqo0F-O_gUodjIrjktFXqzj9WwLqUfP_g/s1600/11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5S2ejlfbkBwBpJf1ITmbT8eHwvdSxOtd8mBZW2Jte1Wboxa0aSvb_UuRlPx7VxDPh98JbDKrXc-jVSBdaapFAfV_o6sFjyDCqDuaAMKqo0F-O_gUodjIrjktFXqzj9WwLqUfP_g/s320/11.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even as it wilts this a really pretty flower. They have a nice aroma, too.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRcyoG-rVgurT7iTdd_IuzSkQoEuLzww3gnmEPmzSF854IHuKrG78dAXOwdfxfAyKrk3bOjPnFWvPh_Q3jBIOgttxFd0z_cAG8U5LiVvErN8va3mSuKlyVJo4sJxnggRFw126LsQ/s1600/12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRcyoG-rVgurT7iTdd_IuzSkQoEuLzww3gnmEPmzSF854IHuKrG78dAXOwdfxfAyKrk3bOjPnFWvPh_Q3jBIOgttxFd0z_cAG8U5LiVvErN8va3mSuKlyVJo4sJxnggRFw126LsQ/s320/12.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The last stage.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6njUGInRWRqlF5YeWIXSywiN8FtrSvJ4s87Oc4xLzsC683Ud57sGo3mPH_PR_v4NsYIJLXVyAGFmKWb7ttl1FaAXbJsOezFNWUSw1gMhxxL7hHwsB64fTmoROE2zr3ekiS8Q-zg/s1600/13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6njUGInRWRqlF5YeWIXSywiN8FtrSvJ4s87Oc4xLzsC683Ud57sGo3mPH_PR_v4NsYIJLXVyAGFmKWb7ttl1FaAXbJsOezFNWUSw1gMhxxL7hHwsB64fTmoROE2zr3ekiS8Q-zg/s320/13.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Suitable for dried arrangements.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicu6REvoXUimZ9BwAVeAtTifZP1DZzDvd5ptaSWk6TBpCMGmcKPw4USZMd3plKCIFOnHuiibF-n2Pnr5Wq_dr2Uy8xSiBm1cAqUYAzwp6gYMzysi5uvsSSPsymABbiQpN0JDjQ9g/s1600/14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicu6REvoXUimZ9BwAVeAtTifZP1DZzDvd5ptaSWk6TBpCMGmcKPw4USZMd3plKCIFOnHuiibF-n2Pnr5Wq_dr2Uy8xSiBm1cAqUYAzwp6gYMzysi5uvsSSPsymABbiQpN0JDjQ9g/s320/14.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The dried flower separates from the boll.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpZYzx7zlO_lx3m5RHC3YaMJ58mdXid0WA_Y0CHk5ulwsbtculjhUZFN13X_364wR4KNmR1-GYj7oXWBMyEGZ47TAL8i-zQOF3ng2So_s46xowOmiVC6znXOO-eSjSrYEAqo7evw/s1600/15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpZYzx7zlO_lx3m5RHC3YaMJ58mdXid0WA_Y0CHk5ulwsbtculjhUZFN13X_364wR4KNmR1-GYj7oXWBMyEGZ47TAL8i-zQOF3ng2So_s46xowOmiVC6znXOO-eSjSrYEAqo7evw/s320/15.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And the green boll begins to emerge. The boll at this stage is referred to as a square.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvyEclW_rCQ_Ylv3vRZxBPoNq_1DW_osyxBOkk_0khQi_mfqJXVRB647xRit7oJuuxCwt7NN4vvvHwX4-qHnqKZR3tJxTp5ZHPU20EqsEtTylW6TjsuJFV1-OMABytFi_4N6jbTg/s1600/16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvyEclW_rCQ_Ylv3vRZxBPoNq_1DW_osyxBOkk_0khQi_mfqJXVRB647xRit7oJuuxCwt7NN4vvvHwX4-qHnqKZR3tJxTp5ZHPU20EqsEtTylW6TjsuJFV1-OMABytFi_4N6jbTg/s320/16.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Okay, this is pretty much the same stage as before, but it's a nice picture.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPpiCAvie4M416uAv8DgUcr-WwWQvF3YqJYJ8YbAbOkIIu36kls3spBPiWbQu_2NB4W717mVJJXN7cjv-qynYfEeb5j4BEji4rTyLOuiQTwLOGW8zIKQtizUaILABSSkXe2qOnbQ/s1600/17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPpiCAvie4M416uAv8DgUcr-WwWQvF3YqJYJ8YbAbOkIIu36kls3spBPiWbQu_2NB4W717mVJJXN7cjv-qynYfEeb5j4BEji4rTyLOuiQTwLOGW8zIKQtizUaILABSSkXe2qOnbQ/s320/17.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The square expands.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjAY1hhab3tOMX1-3HU6iHA46ZE_K2FTrDyu_WTeRCXoVQvr-myZyhXLkFJUKZnoOOSmnBQ9XPDwmPo1yEVOlZkSA0OkPGWklYaWT0BNyG9xTuAHIcugai-auKmqI0MTT9ssoUuA/s1600/18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjAY1hhab3tOMX1-3HU6iHA46ZE_K2FTrDyu_WTeRCXoVQvr-myZyhXLkFJUKZnoOOSmnBQ9XPDwmPo1yEVOlZkSA0OkPGWklYaWT0BNyG9xTuAHIcugai-auKmqI0MTT9ssoUuA/s320/18.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At this point I think the square looks like a lime.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio49cxdgtEE3o7YcRrwiA1LKyafLio9cD_K4PQO3rYQFnzOo1Y2To7na1jAqbVk66t6ZuIV1sZeUe2lkYyzw4x6Hzjb5LP1yaZBZ_G8NaD5PAXDOCwgMAF6ac_yTKI1xP1iJGS1Q/s1600/19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio49cxdgtEE3o7YcRrwiA1LKyafLio9cD_K4PQO3rYQFnzOo1Y2To7na1jAqbVk66t6ZuIV1sZeUe2lkYyzw4x6Hzjb5LP1yaZBZ_G8NaD5PAXDOCwgMAF6ac_yTKI1xP1iJGS1Q/s320/19.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The square opens...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt6eLcgb1h0NIijTirv8KjZaDL5KwipRkeCqm4Vi7MHUWJMn_nvsIvBRqI_sBGGQGIzeZJlZUDBeQErfB7ccBZVGIkehd6sJq6sc0o3nJFsmL-ArddBfgbSTfF_JXWM-CmTxSLng/s1600/20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt6eLcgb1h0NIijTirv8KjZaDL5KwipRkeCqm4Vi7MHUWJMn_nvsIvBRqI_sBGGQGIzeZJlZUDBeQErfB7ccBZVGIkehd6sJq6sc0o3nJFsmL-ArddBfgbSTfF_JXWM-CmTxSLng/s320/20.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And the boll emerges!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixUPLyEKFjgLst2J9a6BMxqs_C1Jn7gvGHsVpiulW-fxZplCBK54romMsok1lM6dIhec2BKFcoXhePn4Sw1ksjCtaMp6BlV4lfIonHKfRvq3XWHxwPQipHpI-Mh0QUE_VBe0eoKA/s1600/21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixUPLyEKFjgLst2J9a6BMxqs_C1Jn7gvGHsVpiulW-fxZplCBK54romMsok1lM6dIhec2BKFcoXhePn4Sw1ksjCtaMp6BlV4lfIonHKfRvq3XWHxwPQipHpI-Mh0QUE_VBe0eoKA/s320/21.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And, voila! Cotton, ready to be picked. B<span style="font-size: x-small;">olls in the field are likely to be much bigger and fluffier, but in the tightly controlled, windless atmosphere of a greenhouse chamber, this is what you get.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwMZW10i4PVl4oS7w60NmGoEh1HrWXSaybuKCP80JD__6Ua9_W6sAlcZwSW_n9tWUaI55wH6dkIaO5D8nXazFRzsZ2VOk6K9u4Hb0l3pFiAWdLIUSr3w9pX1V7VoSi_-mKnnejNw/s1600/Many+Stages.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwMZW10i4PVl4oS7w60NmGoEh1HrWXSaybuKCP80JD__6Ua9_W6sAlcZwSW_n9tWUaI55wH6dkIaO5D8nXazFRzsZ2VOk6K9u4Hb0l3pFiAWdLIUSr3w9pX1V7VoSi_-mKnnejNw/s320/Many+Stages.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here you can see flowers in many stages at once on a stand of plants in the greenhouse.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I took all these pictures today. One plant will have flowers in all stages at once. <span style="font-size: 12.8px; text-align: center;"> </span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">Now of course the plant is producing flowers, squares, and open bolls all at the same time, being a perennial, and so if you simply ran a cultivator through the field you'd end up with a bale of cotton consisting mostly of leaves and dried flowers. </span><span style="text-align: center;">So once you have a good number of open bolls--and decades of breeding have produced , you have to spray a defoliant on the field to kill the plants and get the leaves to drop off. It may be some weeks before you're ready to pull the cotton out of the field; those of you who've driven through the South around Thanksgiving time have seen the fields of cotton ready for harvest. </span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">I think the most interesting thing is the greenhouse chamber with all the flowering cotton plants has the most wonderful flowery scent. Roses, which have no purpose other than to be pretty and smell nice, have been bred down to the point that none of the smell nice at all any more. But here we have cotton, which nobody gives a rip about whether or not it smells pleasant and which has been bred for every reason but flower aroma, and they just smell fantastic. We are a strange species, we humans.</span><br />
<span style="text-align: center;">Anyway, hope you've enjoyed this little photographic guide to the cotton lifecycle. Now you how your T-shirt came to be.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517671984531145034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9068143.post-24104473288932194892015-05-31T14:56:00.001-04:002015-05-31T14:56:27.359-04:00This is just to sayLife is confusing. Things are going well for me right now. One of my closest friends, though, is going through the worst string of difficulties us first-world types are likely to have to suffer through, while trying to manage an already-stressful career change and grad school and... I don't know how she does it. There is so much that I want to do for her (everything) and so little that I actually can. I want to fix everything for her. I can't. I can't do anything. I can keep saying, call me, ask me, I'll help you no question. She knows that. <br />
Sometimes I almost feel guilty talking about things in my own life with her. I have complaints, but they are few and generally, even the a/c being out for a week and the high cost of the replacement unit, pale in comparison to any one of the issues she's dealing with. I'm mostly satisfied. But I'm a naturally melancholy person; I want to just take her pain for her and hold onto it and let her get on with life. I can't do that. She wouldn't let me if I could. She would be horrified at the thought that I might ever feel guilty because I'm not dealing with the stress she is. <br />
I'm supposed to be an adult. I am an adult. I'm plenty old enough to have already figured out how to handle situations like this, except, I'm starting to think we never really figure out exactly how to handle anything. We just fake it. We just try to make something up on the fly and hope it works. We can't make up generic patterns for every situation we're likely to find ourselves in; every situation is different. All we can do is try to look at the past and apply the lessons to the present. And even that's not as easy to do as it is to write.<br />
Life is confusing. Bad stretches come and go; good times, too. I guess we just keep making it up as we go along.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517671984531145034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9068143.post-25209985096412464042015-01-01T09:44:00.001-05:002015-01-01T09:44:15.795-05:00Another year come and gone. For some time I've traditionally made a New Years post here, even when I haven't been blogging actively, which I certainly have not been doing this past year. And while writing more is on my list of things to do for this year, making a big introspective post on this the most inward-focused of days is not actually that exciting a prospect. But I can't resist the opportunity to point out something that I noticed over the last three or four days of 2014.<br />
Many people--perhaps a majority--on my Facebook feed seem not have had a particularly good 2014. I had my ups and downs; it wasn't a year where I accomplished as much as I wanted, but it was a year when I started some really big projects. It's easy for me to complain that I didn't do this or I didn't do that, that I suffered this or that setback (certainly true), that I once again put off this or that big life goal (also true). But these things are always true. And I suspect, on reading through the things people were saying about 2014, that this was true for most. No, it wasn't a great year. It also wasn't terrible. Some folks I know did have a rotten 2014, but for most people, what it really was, the strongest nail in 2014's unlamented coffin, is that it was just more of the same. The same tendencies and habits ruled our lives. The same worries kept us up nights, and the same complaints drove our friends and family crazy. Deep-rooted patterns that can't be undone in a week or a month with a fervent resolution remained in our lives and we did not change them. In 2014, what most of us did--and what was so dissatisfying--is the same thing we were doing in 2013, and 2012, and every other year. 2014 is not a year when we grew or a changed much. But that is true every year. It will be true in 2015, too. That's the nature of life.<br />
That's not meant to be depressing. That we can look at ourselves and see where we need to change and improve and grow is great benefit. We first world types give ourselves grief for complaining about little things when billions of people don't have clean water...but that's the great good fortune of our lives. We can complain that we don't care for our jobs, avoid the gym too often, need to eat better, and spend too much time on Facebook, because we don't have to worry about other things. Is it depressing that in our lives of plenty we still find things we would like to change? No! Gracious, what would we become if we decided we were all satisfied with what we have simply because we know, deep down, that we have enough, indeed more than enough, to survive and be happy? We should consider our tendency to be negative about ourselves as a great driving force that can better the world, if only we learn how to harness it.<br />
Maybe what 2014 was, then--and I'll say this, outside in the world at large, it was dreadful, almost all the news was terrible and our leaders made everything worse--was a year when we all collectively realized we--we as individuals, we as a community, and we as a collective humanity--can do better, and there's no reason why we shouldn't. What a fantastic thing that would be for us as people and our world at large.<br />
Yesterday and today, then, my friends who'd been negative the previous few days suddenly switched tunes. It's traditional to bring in a new year with a sense of hope and optimism. I wondered based on the negativity I was seeing whether that would be true this year. It was. Most of us are glad to see the back of 2014, but I note that many more of us are glad to see the start of something new. That after a dissatisfying year our sense of optimism still abounds is the best news I've seen in a long time.<br />
<br />
So, then, what about Smitty? What are Smitty's goals in 2015? Why, they're the same as all of yours. I want to be a bit more the person I can be and a bit less the person I too often am. I want to travel more, sit home less, write more, click less, experience more, buy less. I want to interact more in the real world and less in the digital one; and, late in the summer when all is dreary and I feel like the year hasn't gone the way I'd hoped, I want to remember that 2015 started on a happy note, and that my ability to be critical and dissatisfied is not greater than my ability to change. <br />
<br />
Now I'm off to start the new year right, surrounded by friends and good times. Happy 2015, everybody. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517671984531145034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9068143.post-16946409720747872462014-12-21T16:33:00.000-05:002014-12-22T16:09:37.361-05:00SNAFU Actually Does Mean Something, You KnowIt should come as no surprise to anyone, least of all me, that the day after I wrote the last post, my laptop gave up the ship. I'm not sure exactly what happened. It had been running clunkily for some time, but there was no problem I was able to identify and virus scans detected no problems. Several blue screens of death later I decided it was time to replace the machine. The old one had its own special problems anyway; the cooling fan had burned out within a year of purchase, and I'd recently spilled some tea on the keyboard and fritzed out the touchpad, so I was using a USB mouse. (I'd like to point out that the tea-spilling was cat assisted, but it's totally the type of thing I'd do.)<br />
And then of course it was several days before I could replace it. Naturally the next day was the day I had to turn in a big project in an effort to save my grade in my English course, so I spent much of that day in a dingy computer lab trying to make myself care about my grade enough to turn in work slightly better than awful. <br />
I did not, in the absence of my computer, spend time each day writing in a journal or anything. Why would I do that? That would require work.<br />
The new computer seems to be okay mostly, but the wireless adapter is clearly garbage, can't find a strong signal if I'm sitting next to the antenna and drops out all the time. On the one hand, yaay, force me to be productive instead of surfing the internet! On the other hand, what the fuck, you know? Anybody know anything about replacing/upgrading wireless receivers in laptops?<br />
Now I'm struggling to figure out what exactly went wrong with the previous computer. I plugged the hard drive in to this new machine to extract the valuable data from it and unfortunately, a significant portion of the data appears to be corrupted. I don't understand how this came to be, since the data didn't seem to be corrupted before the blue screens of death. In Windows Explorer now, I can see the folder the file I want is in, and I can see the file. But when I try to copy it from the hard drive to the new computer, it tells me that the file is no longer in that location and can't be copied. Weird.<br />
Some of the files that won't copy--no doubt a lot of them, in fact--are of no importance, but there are a handful of things there that would be nice to have back, including among them a bunch of edited files for a game that would take probably twenty to thirty hours to recreate. It's not that I can't do that...but gosh, that's a lot of time to spend for something that ultimately is not worthwhile. Plus there are some pictures and stuff that I would like to have back. Not sure what to do about those, but I'll try to find someone who can help.<br />
Is it worthwhile to recreate all those game files? I don't know. On the one hand I enjoy playing the game more with those edits. On the other hand the time invested is pretty high; redoing it all seems like a waste. How do you value time spent on something that is ultimately unproductive? I enjoy the game, certainly, it's good recreation, but at the same time so are lots of other things. Maybe I should just download a copy of SimCity 4 again and roll with that. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517671984531145034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9068143.post-68720406826564191622014-12-08T21:07:00.004-05:002014-12-08T21:07:30.355-05:00Is longform blogging dead?<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
A friend recently asked this
question on Facebook. I noted that at
the very least my own longform blogging seemed to be dead. But the question did get me thinking. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Meanwhile another thought occurred:
when I’m writing, I generally feel better.
I’ve noticed this before but I’ve never meditated on the problem. Do I feel better because I’m writing? Do I write because I’m feeling better? What the hell do I mean by better,
anyway? Isn’t this more clear in my own
head than it is when I put it down on “paper” anyway?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The answer to the last question is “Yes.” Not a surprise. I always write for an audience, not for
myself, even if, on balance, the audience I have in mind is a whole bunch of
identical copies of me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Lately I’ve become obsessed with
chicken and egg questions—what is the cause of this or that tendency or
behavior pattern that I want to correct.
It’s a very handy obsession, because it’s so easy to convince myself
that I can’t take any action toward changing said pattern I want to correct
until I understand precisely where it comes from. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
This is a load of bull. I’ve been seeing a therapist, just for a
couple of visits to sort through some questions for myself. My anxiety is getting worse as I get older
and it’s holding me back more than it’s protecting me; I’d like to know what I
can do about it. But I feel compelled to
start by asking where it comes from. On
this question my therapist’s views are clear: what’s the fucking difference?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
It’s one thing if you have some hidden
desperate family secret you’ve been repressing for ages, but for me, I had a
typical, unexceptional childhood, marked out by certain patterns that probably
affect my behavior but which don’t rise to the level of tragedy, or even to the
level of mattering to anyone other than me.
So why does it matter to me? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The bottom line is, it shouldn’t. I don’t need to know exactly whether the egg
preceded the chicken or vice versa, all I need to know is that I can fry the
eggs up for breakfast and roast the chicken for dinner. What matters is not where a behavior comes
from but whether it’s worthwhile now, and if not, how to change it. Change can come without an explicit
understanding of history. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
So, do I write when I’m happy and
feel like my life is going well? Or does
writing make me happy and help my life go well?
Well, who cares? Can I write?
Yes. Do I want to write? Yes.
Why don’t I? Um…. . . .
. . .
. . .
. . .<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
So, yeah, anyway, here’s a
low-threat way to face down an anxiety and set the pattern to face down more in
the future: write! Something, at least,
every day if possible. Why shouldn’t
I? I don’t need to come up with a theme,
I never had one in the past. I just need
to write. And so write I shall. <o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517671984531145034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9068143.post-20207185434881954352014-10-30T08:11:00.000-04:002014-10-30T08:31:14.508-04:00An Old StoryI'm applying to study in Costa Rica during Spring Break next year. The application asks a number of questions, among them the following:<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 15px;">The nature of study abroad programs often entails unexpected changes in schedules and activities as well as changes due to unfamiliar cultural norms. As such, an individual studying abroad should possess patience, the ability to be flexible, and the ability to adapt to changing circumstances. Thinking about patience, flexibility, and adaptability, describe an example in your life where you demonstrated these qualities and discuss how it might relate to your experience abroad.</span><br />
<br />
I'm sure they were looking for something short and sweet. I wrote this. Then, of course, I forgot to finish the application and the deadline closed and I was all upset, and then, glory of glories, yesterday I got an email that they'd extended the application. Yaay! So now I can apply and maybe have an awesome time in Costa Rica next March. Anyway. I reread this little ditty and it reminded me of a very wonderful trip I took long ago. I thought it was a charming enough story, so here it is:<br />
<br />
I was visiting Carnac, France, and had spent an afternoon walking amongst the stones, and was due to catch a bus back to the train station in Auray, about 20 km up the road. I stood at the stop where I had gotten off the bus that morning...but of course the bus was northbound, now, and thus on the other side of the road, and though there was no bus stop sign over there the bus did not stop for me. It didn't stop at all, in fact, just drove on by, since no one was waiting by the road. This could be a serious problem; I had very limited French language skills, no personal contacts at all, and no idea how I was supposed to get where I was going--I was expecting to spend the night in the Quimper, a two-hour train ride away. What to do?<br />
<br />
I hadn't been by the center of town, but I assumed there might be a tourist information center, so I started walking. I walked back through the standing stones and around the north side of town, because I had no idea which direction to go. Finally I saw a street sign indicating the center of town, and I headed that way. On my way I passed by a sign in someone's front yard: taxi. I didn't stop. I went into town and saw the museum dedicated to the stones (closed, as it was an off-season weekday), and the tourist bureau, which was also closed. The sign said it would re-open in a couple of hours, but by that time my train was going to have left. I was starting to think I needed to find a place to stay the night, and then I remembered the taxi sign. <br />
<br />
I walked back up the road. I didn't speak French and didn't know this person and couldn't have been farther outside my comfort zone, but I knocked on the front door. In halting French I explained that I missed my bus and needed a ride to the train in Auray. I'm sure it came out like "no bus I was missing Auray train station. Please." The gentleman looked at me, then put up a finger, telling me to wait. He reappeared after a moment with a young girl, maybe 12 years old. "English?" she said. I explained what had happened. Then I stopped myself and explained it again more slowly. She smiled and translated for us. Her father would take me, it would be 40 francs (this was in the pre-Euro days, when a franc was worth about 1/7 of a dollar), but he would need two minutes. Then he disappeared. His daughter stood in the doorway and looked at me. "Did you lose your way?" she asked. I smiled nervously. "I just didn't make it to the bus on time." "I won't be able to ride to Auray with you," she said, and then disappeared, leaving me standing at an open front door. Was I supposed to go in? Stay out? Close the door either way?<br />
<br />
Soon enough her father reappeared and with a great deal of gesturing and smiling pointed me toward the car, which said TAXI on it in foot-high letters; evidently, assuming that anyone who doesn't speak your language is a bit slow is a trait that crosses cultural barriers. We got in; he said grandly "Le gare d'Auray!" with a fluttering hand motion like a plane taking off, and we departed. He talked much of the way, and eventually I started trying to respond, with gestures and flourishes mostly. He would repeat things if I didn't seem to understand, and I would respond in English, and he would look at me instead of the road and really examine me like he would find the meaning of the words written on my face. Then he'd look back at the road, swerve suddenly to avoid whatever was in the way (something always was), and laugh uproariously. It was without question the best cab ride I've ever had. I still don't know what we talked about, but we made great sport of the traffic and agreed that McDonald's (McDo) is not so good. We made it to Auray with about 10 minutes to spare; I gave the man 100 francs and we were each on our separate ways. <br />
<br />
So, what is the point of this whole story? Only this: keep an open mind and be willing to do uncomfortable things. Travel requires as much.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517671984531145034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9068143.post-17687944997130134652014-05-31T09:24:00.001-04:002014-05-31T09:30:55.323-04:00Just a morning rantThis working poor stuff has long since worn thin; earning enough
to cover bills and naught else is really not enjoyable, and this morning
I just need to vent.<br />
<br />
Earlier this year after I'd
bought the house and settled in things were looking good: my job paid
well enough for me to actually eat out from time to time, go have beers
with friends like once a week, that sort of thing, and I had put
together a savings plan and some financial goals for the year, and it
really looked like it was going to work. I wanted three months'
expenses set aside in one account, and in two other savings accounts I
was putting money so I could travel (two exotic trips, to Virginia and
Ohio), buy a sound bar (I'm tired of listening to music through my
television speakers, so I don't listen to music any more; my ex-wife
sold my old speaker set at a garage sale and I can't for the life of me
imagine why I let her), pay for a personal trainer certification course,
and other small things.<br />
<br />
And the thing is I just about
got all three accounts filled up. The two-months-expenses one is good.
The savings for travel and other things are basically where I want
them; I overestimated travel expenses and other costs so that, even
though I'm about 10% shy in both accounts, I think I'll be good. And
I've got some cash stashed away for the travel expenses that probably
more than makes up the shortfall.<br />
<br />
Of course, I could
just turn all the money out of all three accounts and finally pay off
the goddamn credit card (I finally made the last payment on the second
one earlier this year, hooray), but what is the point of this life if I
can't get out of town once in a while? Well, that's the nature of low
income. You don't get to do the stuff you want. Piss.<br />
<br />
And
of course, I went and bought a new mattress a couple months ago.
Wasn't planning to do that, either, but it became obvious that my old
mattress was the cause (or at least a cause) of my back and neck pain.
And it was expensive, and I'm still paying for it, and it was <b>sooooo</b>
worth it. The new mattress is fantastic. I love it. It hasn't helped
with the anxiety and stress that keep me from sleeping well most
nights, but I don't wake up in pain any more, and it's hard to put a
price on that. But there was a price on it, and I'm still paying it.<br />
<br />
Nonetheless,
with a new roommate helping me pay for the mortgage and bills, my
savings accounts look good enough that I've been seriously shopping for a
new bike. My current bike is a ten-year-old mountain bike, but I don't
trail ride any more and don't care to. I'm going to use the bike as a
daily commuter to campus, and have been thinking it would be nice to
have a more efficient one, something designed for roads where the high
gears are actually, you know, high gears, and where the top speed is
better than 20 mph at full tilt.<br />
<br />
Road bikes are
expensive. You can find some really cheap ones on line for as little as
$300 from Bikes Direct. And they are worth $300. According to most of
the reviews they'll get you about 1000 miles. They are intended as
"intro" bikes for new riders who will either ride for a while and decide
they don't like it, or will quickly want to upgrade to a better
machine. I'm not the target consumer there; 1000 miles is somewhat less
than one year's commuting (assuming I bike in 4 days a week), which
means sometime next spring I must either buy another $300 bike or
replace all the components on the old one. That just doesn't make
sense.<br />
<br />
And I thought to myself, you know, I just spent
$350 I didn't have on a brake job on my car. My whole goal here is to
put more miles on the bike around town in the next year than on the
car. Shouldn't I at least consider spending more than $300 on my daily
commuter? That doesn't seem unreasonable, right? I plan to ride this
thing almost every day and use it as my primary transportation. My car
cost me 16 times as much and I have to put $40 worth of dead dinosaurs
in it every week (which is over $2,000 a year) and pay hundreds more in
additional maintenance a few times a year, just to keep it running.
Cars are <b>terrible</b> investments. By comparison it would be crazy <b>not</b> to buy a good bike.<br />
<br />
I
can get a very good road bike that will last me for many years and be
an efficient and useful daily commuter from the bike shop on my delivery
route, for about a grand (or half the cost of gas for a year). If I
hadn't had to replace the car's brakes I'd have a third of that price in
savings right now. But I don't. And if I hadn't replaced the mattress
I'd have the rest of that money in savings right now, too. But I
don't. And again, while I don't regret either of those purchases (it's
hard to regret replacing your car's brakes, you know?) it does make it
tough to justify spending any money at all on a new bicycle when I have
an old bicycle. It doesn't really meet my needs, but it exists. If I'd
paid off my divorce debt entirely already and not gone to Mexico in the
spring on last fall's savings, I wouldn't be worrying about this, I
suppose. It's not that I've spent money on things I wish I hadn't; it's
that I wish I hadn't NEEDED to spend money on some of those things.<br />
<br />
It's
been seven years now since I earned enough money that I wasn't
constantly doing this simple calculus. This is why I'm going back to
school. My job prospects seem limited to the exact sort of dead-endery
I've been doing the last several years. Oh sure, I could have stayed at
the factory and after five years been earning more than enough, but the
intervening time would still be fraught with this constant cost-benefit
analysis and the necessary choices to give up things I want to do for
things I have to do. And I don't want to work in a factory on the night
shift for the rest of my life. Or drive a FedEx truck.<br />
<br />
And
I'm rich by the standards of my neighborhood! Hell, many of my
neighbors make 2/3 of what I make, or less. I know how they manage it; I
know I could manage it. I've done it. I don't want to anymore. <br />
<br />
<br />
But
what really got me pissed this morning... I mean, these things are all
true, and that's what life is, and I live with that every day because
honestly it's way better than the alternative, so it's really not
something I normally feel the need to rant about. It's frustrating,
finances are frustrating when you don't make much, but it's hardly
impossible. There's lots of stuff I'd like to do and lots of it simply
will not get done, probably ever. Living with that reality is shite,
but it's shite I'm used to and it's what most people deal with on one
level or another. What's interesting after a few years of this is how
different the things I want to do but can't are than they used to be;
when I was comfortable (back in my USAF days) I wanted to rip out my
kitchen and take a rally-driving school in New Hampshire, things with
five and two thousand dollar price tags, respectively. Now I want to
finish putting ornamental grasses in the front yard and take a trip to
Cedar Point, things with $100 and $450 price tags.<br />
<br />
No, what pissed me off this morning is piss. Specifically cat piss. On my nice couch.<br />
<br />
It's
not enough that he pissed on the guest mattress some months ago. He
got himself locked in the guest room while I was on an overnight trip,
and obviously at some point he had to pee. Okay. He peed directly on
the large pile of clothes (including a suit and several old flight
suits) and also peed in nine other discreet locations around the bed.
The entire mattress is trashed. I haven't replaced it yet because I
can't justify spending hundreds of dollars on a mattress that's going to
get slept on at most ten nights out of the year. I need to find a $100
mattress somewhere, maybe Sears Outlet or Big Lots, but with those
places I also have to get the damn thing home.<br />
<br />
But the
couch? Why my fucking couch? What is the bastard's problem? He's done
this once before, after we moved into the apartment in Greenville. I
chalked it up to his being scared in a new home and went out and bought
this current couch, which is frankly better in every way anyway (but
wasn't too expensive).<br />
<br />
It's not a medical issue. He
goes outside most of the time, and is perfectly capable of using his
litter box; he also doesn't habitually pee on furniture. But all three
couch cushions right now smell like cat piss. I don't know when he did
it or why, but suffice to say he had no reason to. He gets fed more
than enough and any time he wants it; has a clean litter box; gets to
spend most of his day outside if he wants or stay in if he'd prefer; he
even has a new human around to give him extra scritches and cuddles.
The thanks I get is a comfortable and essentially brand new couch that
now smell like fucking cat piss.<br />
<br />
I can't afford a new
couch. But I can't even sit on my nice comfy couch any more because of
the smell. Where the fuck is that money supposed to come from?
Seriously. If I was really poor I'd just have to live with it, but
thankfully I can at least fathom the idea of taking all the money out of
savings to replace something that was brand new two years ago and
should have been able to last twenty more. And of course that's put the
kibosh on the new bike idea, if not on Cedar Point as well. So it
goes.<br />
<br />
Money is always spent before it's earned. Maybe
earning more isn't the answer. Maybe I shouldn't go back to school at
all, but just sell everything I own and backpack around the world on
tramp steamers and stay in hostels until all the money runs out and I
mooch off of relatives and friends for the rest of my life. That sounds
pretty nice, actually.<br />
<br />
So who has a couch I can crash on?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517671984531145034noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9068143.post-13455581865625875632014-01-01T19:52:00.000-05:002014-01-01T19:52:43.449-05:00Happy International Introspection DayI like getting the first of January off. It’s the most introspective day on the calendar, and one I think most people take part in. There’s a reason it’s a national holiday all over the world.<br>
Often I’ve looked back over the previous year in horror or disappointment, but 2013 was different for me. For the first time in a while I took control of events this year in a way I often avoid. It’s been good. And as I look around at what may be coming in 2014, I see a lot of sprouts from seeds planted in the past year. Things are working pretty well.<br>
I decided in 2013 that I was going to go back to school. Not only that, I decided where to go and what to study. I decided I wanted to own a home again, own land (I still say all I really need is a big field with a kitchen and bath), be able to make it my own. And here I am, in a different city in a different state in my own living room. I raked mulch and cut the grass today. I organized seeds and made arrangements to get a few yards of compost delivered. Last year I planted several trees I’ve been growing in pots for the last few years. <br>
I’ve had a delay in my school plans, but it’s just a delay, and that, too, is my own doing. It’s not like I planned to fail a class this spring so I’d screw myself over later, but at least I know where the issue is, whose fault it is, and what to do to fix it. I can quite comfortable look at 2014 and say it’s the year I will go back to college, and that’s a good feeling.<br>
Not that 2013 was perfect. Not that I did everything I wanted or should have done, or refrained from doing everything I should have avoided. No year is perfect. It would have been nice not to fail that class this spring but there you are. I might have hoped to move into my home earlier, to pay less for it. I would have liked to pay off my credit card debt sooner, and fully (there’s still a little chunk sitting there laughing at me). I really wanted to go home to see the family but never made the trip. And the job I’m working…well, it wasn’t exactly what I was looking for.<br>
Still, on balance, 2013 was one of the better years I’ve had of late; we’d have to go well back into the last decade to find one that went as well.
And so it comes to look forward to 2014. I have some travel planned already, which is good, and I have a steady paycheck to start the year with. I have a class scheduled for the spring that should be tons of fun (and where I should get a solid A, which I need), and look forward to starting full time in the summer or fall. I have lots of plans for the yard, for the vineyard and the sorghum patch and the vegetable and herb gardens.<br>
But some things do need to change. I’m not big on New Years Resolutions because I think too many people (myself included) tend to look at them as a New Year New You proposition, and nobody and nothing changes overnight. But there are things I need to work on. Budgeting is a problem, so I’ve come up with a list of financial goals—amounts I want to get stored up in my savings accounts to pay for stuff like travel (I have two trips planned, three more in the planning stage) and a new sound bar (I’m sick of listening to music through the TV speakers), and to have a nice three-month cushion in the main savings account. And I have a plan to get there.<br>
I need to carve out time in my days to meditate, something I didn’t do often in 2013. But I’m not going to say I want to meditate for 20 minutes every day. If I could do that starting today, I would have started months ago. I figure if I can manage five minutes a day that would be a good start, but even that could be tough so I’m saying five minutes a day, at least four days out of the week. That’s an attainable goal, and by the end of January if I’m managing that, I can add minutes or days in small steps. That would be nice. Habits take time to build.<br>
I need to write more. That should be easy since if I write 10,000 words all year I think I’ll double my 2013 output. This here is a nice start, and to keep things simple I’m going to start by trying to write a few stories, vignettes about the Air Force, deployments, the farm, maybe some other things. There are some open mic nights in the area for storytelling, spoken-word creative nonfiction. I really want to go to one, but I need to work on a story to tell. I have plenty. I shall spend some time writing them down. This is a much simpler task than working on Lauderdale or another novel or story, since the characters and plot are already set and I need only to work on the craft of writing.<br>
And finally I intend to earn my Personal Trainer certificate. I’ve been talking about it for eight months, it’s time to take action. One of my savings goals is money for the CPT study materials and test; I’m leaning toward going through NSCA to get my certification, as it’s a more respected organization than NASM while being less expensive than ASCM. I have just about enough money in savings right now to start on this, and I plan to take the plunge this month. It’s time. If things work out right, I could study for a few months, test, and with any luck have a job in the field by summer.<br>
Certainly there are plenty of other things I could stand to work on; self-improvement is not really one of those things that has an end-game. I have got to do something about this tendinitis; my right arm is on fire just from typing this (well, and assembling drawers today which required screwing in about 100 little screws). I’m terrible at maintaining friendships over any meaningful geographic distance and feel awful about that, but I don’t know what to do. For that matter I don’t relate well to people seated next to me, but I think that’s just me. If I was meant to relate well to other people I’m pretty sure I’d be better at it. Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try. <br>
Also, I want a puppy (or a nice shelter mutt). Everybody wants a puppy, right?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517671984531145034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9068143.post-33930252439925861242013-07-07T19:11:00.002-04:002013-07-07T19:11:46.232-04:00StuffI really need to update this a bit more frequently. I have at least three hikes (and some wineries) to cover and another post more in line with the historical tenor of this blog. Some may ask what it is exactly I'm thinking of doing with the current incarnation of this site. For example, I've asked myself that. The rest of you I don't know about.</p>
I blogged a lot more when I was single than after I got married. Now that I'm not married I thought maybe I'd blog more because I don't have anyone to share stuff with. That hasn't happened. Maybe I don't need to share as much anymore. I try not to think too much about that sort of thing.</p>
But I do have a thing in mind here, see. I want to hike every trail in the Triangle before I start school next year, and I want to put at least some comment about each one of them here. I always wanted something like that when I lived in Greenville, or Tampa, or, really, every place I've ever lived. You can look for a list of Triangle Hikes, and there are many such, but I saw no site at all that mentioned <b>every</b> trail in the area. Indeed, some of the trails I've found aren't really mentioned on any hiking site.</p>
That's not entirely a criticism; I mean, if you're looking to put together a list of Triangle-area hikes, you start with Umstead and Eno River and after you get about ten trails or so, you figure you're done. It's good enough to get the best or most popular trails because that's what people are really looking for. But I want <b>all</b> the trails. So that's what I'm working toward here.</p>
The problem here is that every time I look for a hike, I find new places I didn't know about before. There must be 120 discrete trails in the area depending on how big "The Triangle" is (I haven't really decided myself yet). So the project is getting bigger faster than I'm actually completing it. And now that I'll be working (yaay, by the way) all week I'll only have at most two days to hike. So it's going to be interesting to see whether I actually get through this, but it's fun to try. At least you can hike in all seasons here.</p>
How to define the Triangle, though? Obviously it has to include Wake, Durham, and Orange counties (Raleigh, Durham, and Chapel Hill). I've done at least two hikes in Chatham County already, but that is a big damned county and I'm not going to try to do the whole thing. Johnston county doesn't seem to have any hiking trails at all so I'm including it because it's easy to do. It does have four wineries, though. I figure if I can cover every trail in the three core counties, and maybe in eastern Chatham and in Johnston counties, then I can just look out at the counties farther out and do whatever trails strike my fancy. I'm still torn about this. Every trail in the three core counties is definite. But the other counties I guess it depends on how much time I have. Maybe I should sit down and actually try to find every trail... Anyway, if you have any suggestions for trails or how to define the Triangle, please say so. Also if you know how I can create and post a map of the region with a pin at every trail that links to the review post, I want to do that but I'm not sure how.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517671984531145034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9068143.post-721636456120991032013-06-22T17:35:00.000-04:002013-06-22T17:39:25.340-04:00FishingI don't fish. It's not that I don't enjoy the <b>idea</b> of fishing. It's just that, like golf, something that should be purely a leisure activity with no goals or purpose, people have turned into some hugely expensive racket with goals and tools to buy and thousands of dollars needing to be spent. If you go out on a golf course just to have fun wacking a ball around in the wilderness, everybody else on the course hates you. If you go fishing in a kayak with a bamboo pole and some bread... well, at least nobody will yell at you. But all the real fisherman think you're a fool. And in some sense they're right.<p>
Then there's the sort of thing that happened to me today. I went out to Lake Wheeler Park and rented a kayak. It was a sit-on-top kayak, which I always find incredibly uncomfortable (I miss my old kayak, which was very comfy but also 16 feet long and a bit of a nightmare to take places), so I spent much of my paddling tour sitting lotus-style on the back end of the boat. This is very peaceful and calming but not conducive to getting anywhere very quickly. <p>
I paddled down one arm of the lake to find the end. It was very quiet; there was a little drizzle, and consequently very few people on the water. I drifted along the shore, past what looked like an anhinga (couldn't have been though, right? This far north?) resting on a branch sticking out of the water, and down a small stream lined with alders. It was peaceful. I drifted by a turtle sitting on a log and the turtle didn't even feel the need to dive into the water.<p>
The alder-lined stream got too narrow, so I went back out by the anhinga-lookalike and down the next channel. This was all rushes and cattails and willows, completely different from the almost exclusively alder community down the stream literally forty or so feet to the south. I pulled the paddle out of the water and laid back in the kayak and just drifted.<p>
And a fish jumped in the boat.<p>
Actually this was entirely terrifying. You don't expect a fish to jump in your boat, especially when you haven't seen any fish all day anyway. And it was so quiet and peaceful, light rain, almost no sound at all, and then <b>*<i>splash</i>*</b> there's a fish flopping around by your feet. <p>
It wasn't a mullet, either (that would have been truly shocking in a small lake in inland North Carolina). I don't know what it was; I would guess some sort of lake bream or something, but it was pretty big, 14-18 inches. I've honestly never seen a bass in my recent life except in that Dan Aykroyd SNL commercial (and that may not have been a bass) so I wouldn't recognize one. This fish was not tall like a bluegill or crappie, though, so that's what it may have been. <p>
I did not fall out of the boat but if I'd been sitting up lotus style on the back of it I definitely would have. As it was I struggled to get up and tried to grab the poor thing, but he kept slipping out of my hands. After probably two seconds (it seemed longer) the fish flopped out of my hands and out of the boat and back into the water. I watched him go; he stirred up the dirt on the bottom, and then jumped again a few feet away from the boat. Maybe he had a parasite he was trying to dislodge.<p>
In any event, given the ease with which fish simply present themselves to me, it seems unsporting to actually <i>go fishing</i>.<p>
Oh, hey, there aren't any trails at Lake Wheeler Park that I know of, apart from a par course. There's the lake. That's enough reason to go, right? Kayak rental is $5 an hour (they also have canoes and other sorts of floating things). You can park way closer to the rental building than I did; when you go for the first time, just keep driving toward the water and you'll see the final parking lot on the right when the only alternative is to drive into the lake.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517671984531145034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9068143.post-55629878269373062292013-06-19T01:06:00.000-04:002013-06-19T01:06:32.814-04:00Swift Creek Nature Preserve (and Crowder Park)Yesterday (17 June) I developed terrible cabin fever. I'd spent all day at the apartment waiting for a phone call that never came. Even two glasses of wine (<a href="http://hinnantvineyards.com">Hinnant Family Vineyards</a>' Norton 2008) couldn't help. I decided I needed to get out of the house, and was just about to leave for Eno River State Park when apartment maintenance showed up to fix the fridge (water has been dripping from the freezer into the fridge since before I moved in). I was the only one home so I had to stay; twenty minutes later it became apparent we needed an entirely "new" fridge. (You must use air quotes when describing the fridge. It is not the same fridge we had before, but it is by no means new. However, it works, which is all that matters.) Thank goodness my roommates finally came home (they were at, like, class or something. Productive people make me feel bad), but by the time I was able to go for my hike, it did not make sense to drive all the way to Eno River any more.
</p>
Instead, I discovered the <a href="http://www.triangleland.org/">Triangle Land Conservancy</a>, and their Swift Creek Bluffs Preserve. Swift Creek Bluffs is in Cary off Holly Springs Rd, a short jaunt from Raleigh. But you'd never know it was there; it's not advertised, there's very little signage, and your GPS will not lead you to the parking lot (don't turn on Birkhead, the parking area is actually next to the pumping station just before Birkhead). But the difficulty of getting there means you'll have the place mostly to yourself, and that's often why we wander off into the woods anyway. Right?
</p>
<a href="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/2013-06-17183553_zpsc350368d.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/2013-06-17183553_zpsc350368d.jpg" align="left" width="150" height="200" alt="This tree is not right." /></a>The first thing you see starting on the trail out of the parking lot is this seriously messed up pine tree. I have no idea what caused that; the scars go most of the way up the trunk. This is maybe 20 feet from your car. By this point if you haven't already found and started using a spider stick you need to do so. Seriously. Remember how I said you'd be the only one there? Yeah, possibly the only one in several days. You want a spider stick.
</p>
<a href="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/2013-06-17172603_zpscc6add73.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/2013-06-17172603_zpscc6add73.jpg" align="right" height="250" width="175" alt="You should not walk under this. I risk my life as a faithful reporter."/></a> Another 20 feet along the trail and you come to the first junction... and just down the junction you see this. The rest of this tree is scattered around the grounds. Several others are downed across the trail. The trail is actually closed here and you really should not cross the "closed" sign. <a href="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/2013-06-17173849_zpsfe61b75a.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/2013-06-17173849_zpsfe61b75a.jpg" align="left" height="200" width="300" alt="This is a crappy phonecam shot but believe me this tree is freakin' huge. This preserve was flat destroyed by Andrea." /></a>Really. Don't do it.
</p>
Okay, fine, so you're going to go where you shouldn't, huh? You just have to follow every single trail in the park? Who does that? I mean, apart from me. First, let me suggest to you that Swift Creek Bluffs won't be in such disarray for all that long; I'm sure they have a work day planned, and I've emailed Triangle Land to ask when that might be so I can go help out. Believe me, the lower part of the trail (through the "Chestnut Oak Swamp") is really in bad shape. It's possible that Tropical Storm Andrea did this much damage, but that seems unlikely; the size and number of trees that are downed throughout the preserve <a href="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/2013-06-17183152_zpsaee5d05f.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/2013-06-17183152_zpsaee5d05f.jpg" height="200" width="300" align="left" alt="Hooray for poison ivy! It's easy to see why this tree hasn't been moved yet." /></a>makes me guess that <b>after</b> Andrea's rain, one of the storms later in the week probably produced a microburst or mini tornado. You've got to go to really get an idea of the amount of damage. And if that's not enough to dissuade you from crossing the Do Not Cross barriers, examine this downed tree. That's a maple tree. But that maple tree had a very healthy poison ivy plant climbing up it, and all those leaves you see are ivy, not maple. You cannot climb over this tree. You cannot walk around it. You cannot avoid it in any way. So when you come across this tree you will get poison ivy oil on you. (Immunity to urushiol is my superpower, so I was okay.)
</p>
Along the closed trails I did come across this wonderful hickory. <a href="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/2013-06-17183400_zpsa8fd8806.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/2013-06-17183400_zpsa8fd8806.jpg" height="250" width="175" align="left" alt="Shaggy bark"/></a>Hickories are even harder to differentiate than oaks are; they all look the same for like the first 100 years, and they grow so slowly and live so long. And their wood makes such wonderful cabinets. Anyway, this here is a shagbark hickory, and for the first time in my life I have seen why, in person.
</p>
The lower part of the trail, which is a nice hike (the parts of it that are not blocked by downed trees), runs alongside Swift Creek.<a href="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/2013-06-17174726_zps8c9f9ece.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/2013-06-17174726_zps8c9f9ece.jpg" height="200" width="300" align="right" alt="I don't know what these trees are. This is incredibly frustrating."/></a> There is a large population of these trees along the creek. I have no idea what these are. I swear they look like magnolias of some kind, but none of them have any sort of flower or seed that I could see. They're vaguely tropical-looking. I like them but they frustrate me.
</p>
Whatever these trees are, the most common tree in the entire park is the stately American Beech. <a href="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/2013-06-17175304_zps0fb9aaa1.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/2013-06-17175304_zps0fb9aaa1.jpg" height="300" width="200" align="left" alt="Swift Creek not living up to its name."/></a>This is very much a beech forest with other trees; there are easily more beeches in the Swift Creek Preserve than any other single tree. But that's not the whole story. The preserve is called Swift Creek Bluffs. So far we've only walked along the creek.
</p>
Frequent readers (I know there are none of those, but I have hopes that will change) will note that Swift Creek is the creek that runs through Hemlock Bluffs Nature Preserve also in Cary. Indeed, if you look on a map you'll note Hemlock Bluffs and Swift Creek are practically next to one another. And the key feature of Swift Creek Bluffs is indeed a high bluff, not unlike the bluffs at Hemlock Bluffs. I wondered if perhaps there'd be a hemlock or two hanging out up there.<a href="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/2013-06-17180502_zps6ad4f78b.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/2013-06-17180502_zps6ad4f78b.jpg" align="right" height="300" width="200" alt="There sure was. This tree is the only hemlock I saw, but it's almost easier to get a picture of this one than of any of the trees at Hemlock Bluffs." /></a>
</p>
There's a long stairway up to the top of the bluff, and then the trail wends along the top for a ways. But it isn't a loop. If you want to make it into a loop you have to take a little side trip onto the Birkhaven greenway trail, which takes you down to a golf course before you can re-enter the preserve. But that's cool. I stumbled around on the bluff for a while and then came back down the stairs and went through a swamp again for a bit and went back to the car.
</p>
Swift Creek Bluffs has some nice trails and is certainly an asset to the area, but until the park's been cleaned up and the rest of the trails are open you should probably visit another park instead. If and when you do decide to hike Swift Creek Bluffs, if it's summertime, don't forget the bug spray and the spider stick.
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</p>
I wasn't quite ready to go back to the apartment after hiking Swift Creek Bluffs. So I turned the car south to Ten-Ten Rd. and stopped at Crowder District Park, a Wake County park in Apex. It's a nice little park but not exactly a big place for hiking. You can come here and take a nice walk on paved trails. The boardwalk across the pond is nice. In the evening, the turtles congregate, looking for handouts. It's a little weird, actually; there are dozens of them and they congregate like ducks expecting you to throw them crusts of bread. Like slow, partially submerged ducks.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517671984531145034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9068143.post-21483179675638994062013-06-18T18:06:00.000-04:002013-06-18T18:06:33.946-04:00Occoneechee MountainI hiked Occoneechee Mountain State Preserve on a Sunday afternoon in June. The park is sandwiched in between I-85 and the Eno River and encompasses two high hills rising out of the Atlantic coastal plain, the namesake “mountain” and the smaller Brown Elfin Knob right next door. Really they're just big hills; actually, it's two peaks on one big hill. But we'll let it be a mountain if that's what it wants to be.</p>
This is a seldom-visited park. You will need to apply bug spray before you leave the parking area. Lots of bug spray. If you’re troubled by the occasional spiderweb running across the trail, this probably isn’t your park.
That said, it’s a most fascinating hike, especially if you’re interested in seeing several different forest types in a short hike. I did not complete the entire trail network but hiked about 2 ¾ miles, during the course of which I passed through four distinct lowland forests and some upland areas.
<a href="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/Occonneechee/2013-06-02175117_zpsc028cf07.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/Occonneechee/2013-06-02175117_zpsc028cf07.jpg" height="200" width="300" align="right" alt="Some huckleberries along the trail."/></a>The actual summit of Occoneechee is owned by Orange County, not by the state park system, but a trail will take you there. I didn’t visit it, although at the time I thought I had. I started out heading left from the parking lot. This means that for the first part of the hike I paralleled the interstate, and although the forest is pretty and reasonably peaceful the traffic noise is actually pretty loud.
We forget sometimes that our blueberries are but domesticated forms of plants that still grow wild in this area; the understory in this part of the park has at least three species of blueberries and huckleberries (<i>Vaccinium spp.</i>), in some places entirely covering the ground. The smaller huckleberry species in particular are more common farther west, but there were many lowbush blueberries as well.<a href="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/Occonneechee/2013-06-02175545_zpsf1e29c74.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/Occonneechee/2013-06-02175545_zpsf1e29c74.jpg" height="200" width="300" align="left" alt="A native lowbush blueberry."/></a> All were still green; some still had flowers. This would be a fun park to walk through in July when the berries are ripe, assuming the birds don’t eat all of them first.
The trail is clear but relatively narrow and has plenty of roots and other trip hazards, and thanks to numerous climbs and descents this would not be a very good park for any but experienced trail runners. <a href="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/Occonneechee/2013-06-02182948_zps4d1dfa30.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/Occonneechee/2013-06-02182948_zps4d1dfa30.jpg" height="200" width="300" align="right" alt="A different species of huckleberry I couldn't identify. They were much more common on top of the mountain than around the base."/></a>That said, experienced trail runners would enjoy what is probably the most challenging trail in the Triangle.
As the trail turns north away from the interstate the vaccinium species thin out and are replaced by other understory plants including ferns and a large population of witch-hazel. You’ll notice huge chunks of quartz sticking out of the ground every now and then. <a href="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/Occonneechee/2013-06-02181726_zpsdc7b651a.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/Occonneechee/2013-06-02181726_zpsdc7b651a.jpg" align="left" height="200" width="150" alt="Mountain Laurels along the Eno River; they belong at the top of the hill, not down here."/></a>On the north side of the mountain you’ll parallel the Eno River for a ways, and begin to see Mountain Laurel and some native azaleas. There’s a short spur trail to a very nice swimming hole, though it is apparently on private property. (Still, there were several people swimming and I don’t get the impression the private owners are terribly upset about it.) Past this short spur, both sides of the trail host quite the healthy population of poison ivy. Watch for it if you’re susceptible.
When the trail turns away from the river it ascends some stairs and a spur leads off to the “Occoneechee Quarry.” I took the spur. The quarry turns out to be a huge face of quartz that’s been just torn to bits; unmolested quartz rocks like this are found throughout the piedmont with names like “Shining Rock” or “Looking Glass Mountain” because the smooth face of the rock reflects the sun in early morning when damp with dew. At one time, Occoneechee Mountain looked like that. No more.
You are specifically told not to engage in any rock climbing or rappelling activities on this degraded rock face, which is good advice because the rock is just broken all to hell and very friable, so put too much weight on any part of it and it would likely just break off and send you tumbling down the mountain into the river (this actually sounds like fun, until you consider that along the way you'd tumble across a bunch of very pointy rocks and through a whole field of poison ivy).
<a href="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/Occonneechee/2013-06-02182743_zps566b18b4.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/Occonneechee/2013-06-02182743_zps566b18b4.jpg" height="300" width="450" alt="Part of the quartz face of Occoneechee Mountain." /></a>
That said, there are a number of paths directly up the side of the mountain here that don’t require any actual climbing, so I’ll say what I did was hike very steeply uphill with some help from my hands. At the top, there’s a wooden fence to hold visitors back from the edge. I took this to be the summit but later on reviewing MapMyRun’s gps map of my hike (at the bottom of this post) it looks like this was just one face of the hill, and the actual summit trail and summit was still some ways away to the east of where I climbed. So I’ll have to visit again.
Along the way to the top, I found a huckleberry bush with a few ripe fruits. They were delicious.
A short trail connects what I thought was the summit trail to the eastern edge of the park loop trail, along the top of Brown Elfin Knob. This trail goes through a large population of mountain laurel mixed with rhododendron and another large population of vaccinium bushes, mainly huckleberries this time. It is an easy trail and shorter than I expected. The summit is insignificant; time was when this small hill would have been topped with an observation tower but insurance costs have eliminated most such towers from American public lands. It's less a brown elfin knob than a brown elfin gentle-rise-in-the-landscape.
The last portion of the loop trail runs beside two fish ponds and features more typical lowland species including canebrake and boxelder, which weren't anywhere else in the park including along the river. If you forgot the bug spray back when you got out of the car at the start of the hike, this part is really going to be unpleasant. But it's flat, so you could run. Think of the bugs as zombies. In a way, they are...
This was a very enjoyable hike and particularly interesting for the large variations in forest type given the small area. I hiked 2.7 miles including my short vertical ascent, though there are at least another 2 miles of trails in the park. These trails are probably among the most strenuous in the Triangle (though very easy relative to a typical trail in the mountains). Also they have the most available forage, if for some reason you get lost and need to survive in the wilderness for a while...although you could just follow the sound of traffic and be standing next to I-85 in half an hour or less.
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I drove all the way to Hillsborough for this hike and didn't think to stop at a winery or a brewery (Mystery Brewing is there and you should totally stop in because they rock). But I have to go back to do the rest of the trails sometime, so I can make up for this tragic oversight.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517671984531145034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9068143.post-75838263755427560622013-06-13T10:42:00.000-04:002013-06-13T10:42:04.344-04:00Cliffs of the NeuseFirst off, before we start, I'll answer the question I know you want to ask: it's pronounced [noose]. Down towards the coast the pronunciation seems to change more to [nyoose]. It is <b>not</b>, however, pronounced [noiss], as I suspected. It's a bad English transliteration of a native American word, not the name of some German settler.
So anyway, <a href="http://www.ncparks.gov/Visit/parks/clne/main.php">Cliffs of the Neuse</a>. It's a state park outside of Goldsboro, which itself is about an hour from Raleigh. Not officially part of the Triangle, but a short drive and worth visiting. But be forewarned:</p>
The Neuse is extremely variable. Evidently even as far downstream as Goldsboro, during a drought the river becomes so minimal you can just walk right across it, but after a heavy rain it routinely floods, as it mostly flows through lowland swamps and there's nothing stopping it from just wandering across the landscape; more on that in a moment. Down at New Bern (apparently pronounced [NYOO-bern], which is just offensive. The word 'new' does not have a y.) it's more tidal and not quite so variable, at least not on the low end. And up here in Raleigh, it's dammed up at Falls Lake...which was created in the 70s to stop the river from flooding so much.</p><a href="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/2013-06-12110330_zps96f1b78e.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/2013-06-12110330_zps96f1b78e.jpg" height="400" width="300" align="left"/></a>So this is mostly a lowland flatwater river, right? Sure. Except right here, at the cliffs. On the south bank (where I'm standing to take this picture) the land is a big chunk of limestone 80 or so feet high uplifted during the last Ice Age. The river's trundling along through coastal sediment for hundreds of miles and then whangs into this limestone bluff--which, it should be said, has no business being in the middle of the coastal plain--and you get these nice 90-foot cliffs.</p>
Now if you notice this is not some tidy little blackwater river here. In fact if you look closely you'll see those willows on the left bank of the river (the bright green patch in the middle)... are all the way in the river. </p>
See we just had this thing called Tropical Storm Andrea. It was a few days ago up in the Triangle and for the most part although the lakes are all at full pool there's not water standing everywhere. But a few days' river flow means the Neuse is probably at maximum flood stage here at the Cliffs right now. I didn't really think about that.<a href="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/2013-06-12111126_zpsefc9fbc0.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/2013-06-12111126_zpsefc9fbc0.jpg" align="right" width="400" height="300" /></a>This is the fishing area near the parking lot. Well, actually, the fishing area is under there somewhere. I'm not really sure where. But check it out: in the back, the tree closest to the river? Baldcypress. Haven't seen any up in the Triangle, which surprises me. But that will change once I get mine back from SC and put it in the ground.</p>
Anyway. I came here for the hiking. Here's a picture of the bridge going to two of the three trails:<a href="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/2013-06-12111812_zps3b3d2cc2.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/2013-06-12111812_zps3b3d2cc2.jpg" align="left" height="400" width="300"/></a>Bear with me, this is a phonecam picture and I own the cheapest phone with the crappiest camera available on the market (actually, it's not even on the market anymore). A third of the way down at the center of that pic you see a little yellowish square? And a bit to the right of it, you can make out the right edge of a brown sign with white letters (click on the picture to blow it up). Those letters indicate the names of the trails. That's the trailhead, over there underwater somewhere. I'm standing at the edge of the water on some steps. There is, in fact, a bridge down there. Really. A whole bridge, all the way under the water.</p>
There was a lot of water in this park. For example, here's another fishing area. <a href="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/2013-06-12115548_zps1e17688f.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/2013-06-12115548_zps1e17688f.jpg" height="280" width="200" align="right"/></a>Actually, the fishing area is about 100 yards away through there. But the main trail was accessible, and by going off trail for a bit and getting lost in the woods (well, not lost, but let's say I had no idea where I was. I wasn't lost, though, because I didn't <b>care</b> where I was) I managed to get about two miles of hiking done. There are a lot of steps on the established trails in this park.</p>
There are also a lot of American Beautyberry bushes (<i>Callicarpa americana</i>) in the park. <a href="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/2013-06-12113943_zps73f0d843.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/2013-06-12113943_zps73f0d843.jpg" align="left" height="200" width="300"/></a>I mean, a whole lot of them. The way Mapleleaf Viburnums were absurdly common in Hemlock Bluffs is how common beautyberries are here. They're nice plants. People plant the Chinese and Japanese versions all the damn time in this country but we have a perfectly good native version with just as many flowers and just as pretty little berries (well, not in June). Some of these bushes were five and six feet tall.</p>
However, it was hard to stop and take pictures. Maybe it's because the water level was so high, but the park and trails were <b>swarming</b> with ants. Not fire ants thank goodness, but I quite literally could not stop for 5 seconds to take a picture of anything without my shoes, socks, and ankles being covered with ants. All parts of all trails were like this. I don't normally mind ants because I don't usually see them in swarms, much less swarms on me, but this was pretty unpleasant.</p>
Alas, with the water level as high as it was it was not possible to see the actual cliff face at Cliffs of Neuse. I'm not actually sure it's ever possible to do so, except from a kayak in the river. So sometime I shall have to put a kayak in this river.</p>
Anyway. Cliffs of Neuse is a nice park; it has lots of campsites, a swimming lake (with paddleboats), and some short trails. You just might want to wait a little longer after a major storm blows through before making a visit.</p>
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On my way home, I stopped by <a href="http://www.hinnantvineyards.com/">Hinnant Family Vineyards</a> in Pine Level. I like pretty much every winery I've ever been to (even the ones without any actual wines I liked), so henceforth just assume that if I mention a winery here, I'm encouraging you to visit. Hinnant has mostly muscadine and fruit wines, which aren't always my thing, but they make good use of the Blanc du Bois grape and the Norton is very good (there's a bottle of it in my wine fridge right now). And the blackberry wine would be out of this world with a slice of cheesecake. $5 gets you 8 tastings (your choice out of a list of about 20) and a glass.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517671984531145034noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9068143.post-35818196319791916762013-06-10T23:29:00.001-04:002013-06-10T23:29:04.839-04:00Hemlock Bluffs Nature PreserveHemlock Bluffs Nature Preserve trail map:
This is a little gem in the middle of the town of Cary, off Kildaire Farm Rd. It’s a reasonably quiet part of town, mostly residential, and the trails and nature center are far enough off the road that Hemlock Bluffs genuinely feels cut off, quiet, and peaceful. It feels like nature, not a scrappy little city park.</p>
I hiked every inch of trail, about 2.6 miles in all. The wide trail path is well maintained and laid with mulch; no roots or rocks sticking out. The main Chestnut Oak Trail is generally level with some mild climbs and descents but nothing untoward. <a href="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/Hemlock%20Bluffs/2013-06-01172454_zps578795af.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/Hemlock%20Bluffs/2013-06-01172454_zps578795af.jpg" height="300" width="200" align="left" alt="An upland seep along the Chestnut Oak trail"/></a>The trail down to the Swift Creek loop is stairs, but the loop itself is flat and also well maintained. This is an excellent park for a trail run, especially for those new to trail-running.
The Chestnut Oak trail covers a fairly typical coastal plain environment, with a forest of primarily chestnut oak, red maple, and beech; look for maple-leaf viburnum, a somewhat rare shrub so predominant in this park it might be the single most common understory plant. This park will be brilliant in early autumn thanks to a big population of maples; a good number of serviceberry and other small trees and shrubs should provide a decent springtime floral display though not spectacular.</p>
<a href="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/Hemlock%20Bluffs/2013-06-01174617_zpsf914c600.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/Hemlock%20Bluffs/2013-06-01174617_zpsf914c600.jpg" height="200" width="300" align="right" alt="This crabapple is suffering from an unusual fungus. If you want to see some weird-ass nature shit, do a google images search for Cedar-Apple Rust." /></a>Follow the main trail to the right and you’ll come to the Swift Creek ravine. The trail descends the ravine on well-made gravel-topped stairs, and two spurs from the stairs allow you to look at the truly unique aspect of this park, the Eastern Hemlocks on the south wall of the ravine.
This relict population of hemlock is separated from the rest of the species’ distribution by some 150 miles. The trees survive here (some of the trees are old enough to predate European settlement in the Neuse basin) thanks to an unusual microclimate on the steep banks of Swift Creek. <a href="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/Hemlock%20Bluffs/2013-06-01175721_zpsc474ae82.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/Hemlock%20Bluffs/2013-06-01175721_zpsc474ae82.jpg" height="300" align="left" width="200" alt="The actual hemlocks; this overlook is a nice place to stop and just enjoy being outside for a while." /></a>Because of the disjunct nature of this population they have no woolly adelgid infestation; it’s possible, sadly, that this might be the last healthy population of hemlocks in the eastern U.S. in another 20 years. The hemlocks share the streambank with a large population of galax and several other plants more commonly found in the piedmont and mountains. </p>
The Swift Creek Loop is on lowland in the creek basin, below the ravines. This is a short, level loop through wet bottomlands. Bug spray is mandatory before attempting this trail.
Throughout the park the squirrels are so fat and unmolested they don’t even run away from you when you walk directly toward them. And when they do scamper, it’s with the studied leisure of animals secure in their safety. Let them have their peace; please keep your dog on a short leash. <a href="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/Hemlock%20Bluffs/2013-06-01173507_zps0251acb4.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y28/thehappysmith/Hemlock%20Bluffs/2013-06-01173507_zps0251acb4.jpg" height="200" width="300" align="right" alt="Mapleleaf Viburnum, or Viburnum acerifolium, is an uncommon understory shrub throughout the southeast. Here at Hemlock Bluffs, it might be the single most common such plant in the park." /></a>
Hemlock Bluffs preserves an interesting microbiome unique in the Triangle area. The park is very quiet and peaceful, and even on a nice Saturday afternoon was not particularly busy. It’s a real find this close to the center of town.
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The route with elevations. Note the actual elevation changes are pretty mild, despite the way the chart looks. If you wanted to do say a 5k trail run, you'd probably just want to circle the Chestnut Oak loop 3 times; the stairs down to the Swift Creek Loop (on the right in the map) could be a problem.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517671984531145034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9068143.post-85828548949965388032013-06-08T22:20:00.000-04:002013-06-10T23:31:44.272-04:00tumblr is getting hard to use the way I want to use it. For an idea of what I want to be doing with my blog, you could go read my Everglades post (I think it's linked over there on the sidebar). It's hard to use tumblr's interface to produce that sort of post, and that sort of post is what I want to produce. Ergo, no more tumblr for Smitty. Instead, let's try a new thing! Let's try Wordpress.
You can find exciting things both old and new over at <a href="http://thehappysmith.wordpress.com/">A Bad Idea Poorly Executed</a>. Thank you for your consideration.
I'm editing this post here instead of writing a new one: Ahem. Blogger, why did I ever leave you? I can directly edit code on this site, which I can't do on wordpress any easier than I could on tumblr (which is to say, not at all). Look how much prettier I can make these hiking posts, with the pictures and stuff sized and placed where I want them (close enough), and putting that trail map in is a snap whereas in Wordpress it took me 15 tries and I never got it to appear, despite explicitly following Wordpress' instructions.
So... this blog will live here at this site, and that's that. Thank you for your support during this period of transition...Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517671984531145034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9068143.post-55395659096129859362012-01-14T11:28:00.003-05:002012-01-14T11:29:36.280-05:00I Think I'm Going to Move to TumblrYou can find me there. I've tentatively named it "A Bad Idea Poorly Executed." Or just search for, as always, thehappysmith.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517671984531145034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9068143.post-58721423733740985702011-11-05T10:42:00.003-04:002011-11-05T10:54:48.860-04:00Muffins!I'm trying to get a good "tropical" muffin recipe together. I have lots of crushed pineapple and dried coconut and I finally went out and bought a one dollar beat-up muffin pan from Goodwill, and this morning I made my first attempt.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhusSuQVAodesqu5MxONjkc1KQPfW-D981fLvsn7JGj6l1oCp-8S1kfr1IV8E-rdMzzRq0ql_nlinM-WdwpGv9LSrKvr6BRR3apZSQJGSiUeNgLNs8YwvWj-te5c3V5A3S8WX1uSg/s1600/Tropic+Muffins+1.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 206px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhusSuQVAodesqu5MxONjkc1KQPfW-D981fLvsn7JGj6l1oCp-8S1kfr1IV8E-rdMzzRq0ql_nlinM-WdwpGv9LSrKvr6BRR3apZSQJGSiUeNgLNs8YwvWj-te5c3V5A3S8WX1uSg/s320/Tropic+Muffins+1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5671522414402496850" /></a><br /><br />This isn't quite the right recipe. I can't put my finger on exactly what needs to be changed, but no question I need more pineapple, less coconut, and probably something other than guava juice (really? On a blog called "Gin & Guavas" I'm posting a recipe that I need to cut the guava juice out of). But they are tasty.<br /><br />I use the following recipe for my dry muffin mix:<br />1/3 c white whole wheat flour<br />1/3 c teff flour<br />1/3 c flax meal<br />1/3 c + 1 tbsp sugar<br />1/4 tsp soda<br />1/4 tsp baking powder<br />pinch salt<br />1/2 tsp cinnamon<br /><br />Mix together and combine with 1 egg and 1/4 c applesauce, and you have a basic muffin mix. Of course I use teff and flax instead of just wheat flour because they have more fiber, more vitamins and minerals, and quite frankly more flavor. I think everyone should add flax meal to their recipes; the teff flour is harder to come by. But of course you could just use 1 cup of regular flour. And most people would probably use closer to a full cup of sugar (but I was adding pineapple, and that's plenty sweet).<br /><br />What I added for the tropical part of it was:<br />1 tsp vanilla<br />1/2 tsp almond extract<br />1/3 c crushed pineapple<br />3 tbsp guava nectar<br />3 tbsp chopped coconut (rehydrated)<br />1 tbsp chopped rehydrated banana chips (I'd prefer a banana, but I didn't have any).<br />fresh grated nutmeg (maybe about 1/4 tsp?)<br /><br />This made six muffins. I'm single; I don't need to be making a dozen muffins at a shot.<br /><br />Next time around I think I'll try mango or maybe passionfruit juice instead of guava, and less almond extract (perhaps none at all), and a little more pineapple, and maybe one less tbsp of the coconut. Still, a good first effort.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517671984531145034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9068143.post-14202897122786003092011-11-05T10:05:00.005-04:002011-11-05T10:42:36.736-04:00Four Random PhotographsI haven't posted any pictures in a while. Well, I haven't done much with the blog in a while, but, more to the point, I have some pictures I took over the last couple months that I guess I intended to blog, but never did. And I also have two I took this morning.<br /><br />My okra has succumbed to frost, and I don't think the tomato is long for the world (it's still ripening tomatoes, at about 1/3 normal speed, but we've had three frosts so far and it has managed to survive. I don't expect it make it to Thanksgiving but I'm also not going to complain if it does).<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiswU6FvGzDmntG061gONjUTU6zxtM5J-LdxzX72fcheKCFiuwpDR46Tbej56QTQCZ0ugadDyMiHlQpBzpcdWl7Vnsk-fdozKtyT1YjlqrICYur6A24ganHvHxyaQcHD0H2MWPaUw/s1600/Buckeye.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 109px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiswU6FvGzDmntG061gONjUTU6zxtM5J-LdxzX72fcheKCFiuwpDR46Tbej56QTQCZ0ugadDyMiHlQpBzpcdWl7Vnsk-fdozKtyT1YjlqrICYur6A24ganHvHxyaQcHD0H2MWPaUw/s200/Buckeye.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5671517805275672002" /></a>But with the end of one season comes the start of another, and I have Brussels sprouts and arugula and fun things like that. And, this amusing little seedling. This is a red buckeye (<i>Aesculus pavia</i>), not a tree I even had on my list of trees to try to grow, mainly because my list is a couple years old and I don't know of any red buckeyes around here. But I collected this seed from a buckeye tree up at Biltmore, in Asheville, about six weeks ago. I brought it home. It sat on the kitchen counter for about three weeks. According to <a href="http://www.nsl.fs.fed.us/wpsm/Genera.htm">my notes</a> the seeds need to be kept moist and planted immediately; if they dry out at all, they die. Very finicky seeds apparently. <br />Or not. I soaked it overnight and stuck it in a pot and figured there was no way it would grow. But here we are! I have no idea what this is going to turn into--I can't even tell if those are leaves or what. But it's sort of exciting. (The plant next to it is New Jersey Tea (<i>Ceanothus americanus</i>), which has been growing for about two months. I have several of them sprouted now and I'm looking forward to actually trying the tea from them next winter.)<br /><br />Back in the summer I made several ratatouilles. They were all delicious. I should post a recipe sometime.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV1Wpj2W9H5SuLsoICbw5bfHqAz0dWUN74HXlYEKjMxu7pmuQK7a2FnpqO4foPVNzY7H-62senqnQmuXlX2arjYIa-DeXTxlv5-IW3SnW-qaWgkmOQZC66O0iSbEd4G4AndTnF5g/s1600/Ratatouille.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV1Wpj2W9H5SuLsoICbw5bfHqAz0dWUN74HXlYEKjMxu7pmuQK7a2FnpqO4foPVNzY7H-62senqnQmuXlX2arjYIa-DeXTxlv5-IW3SnW-qaWgkmOQZC66O0iSbEd4G4AndTnF5g/s200/Ratatouille.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5671517798297639826" /></a> But it's a lot easier to just post this picture of the stew in the pot. So colorful. Of course summer is over; now it's gumbo season, so I'll have to blog the next time I make one of those.<br /><br /><br />I grew a lot of vegetables this summer and enjoyed them (the tomatoes and tabasco peppers were particularly great), but nothing was as exciting as this.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO_avB31ziYk9woPxNa2MBC6c7bX0ricgD5PtZ520L4uvM0AWy_n-y9D9th0Jz1-GadcTvIdWUTqizBjLYBuovl5mcjCUYtv4hiiLoEhnXhcu66IfqBA-jCiqOWjvVGuPFMrG4JA/s1600/Grapes.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO_avB31ziYk9woPxNa2MBC6c7bX0ricgD5PtZ520L4uvM0AWy_n-y9D9th0Jz1-GadcTvIdWUTqizBjLYBuovl5mcjCUYtv4hiiLoEhnXhcu66IfqBA-jCiqOWjvVGuPFMrG4JA/s200/Grapes.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5671517803373807746" /></a>I have three grape vines in pots here; some year soon they'll go into the ground but grape vines can live for 100 years or more so they'll be fine in pots for a few. How exciting to harvest my own grapes off my own vines... while living in an apartment. They were really good, too--although they were sold to me as "seedless," and they are anything but. But these are Concord grapes, the native <i>Vitis labrusca</i>, the ones Alton Brown talks about in the tv commercials for Welch's. Maybe some year the vines will be big enough to get enough grapes to try a few bottles of homemade wine. Not any time soon, though.<br /><br />I've mentioned Schrodinger before. He needs a picture.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj33aruVqbN0mSDf7qgvQ-YmK1wsYSdxvnEtAeqBeK1n5Lf-uCnIHSIesTjLGrD7vX0j1u7bice_7FvKPQtZlxmNVB0fyVtIt3dmmogbfCsGiJE7ABq_4UABHqSTAxZdgjblDIsgQ/s1600/Schrodinger%2527s+First.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 162px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj33aruVqbN0mSDf7qgvQ-YmK1wsYSdxvnEtAeqBeK1n5Lf-uCnIHSIesTjLGrD7vX0j1u7bice_7FvKPQtZlxmNVB0fyVtIt3dmmogbfCsGiJE7ABq_4UABHqSTAxZdgjblDIsgQ/s200/Schrodinger%2527s+First.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5671517816416126338" /></a> Like all black cats he is very difficult to photograph. Most of my pictures of him are a black smudge with glowing green eyes. I have not yet managed to get a picture that matches up with <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRnpV12HZe31sQJ3gAZ6SK5XlJOoxgs6xw7Xh7dtHwTW2iK8WCo76lSPFW_3FnZXYDpN3xFq5Z6D7hGL0sExegNzZqY4-HRyGrtTXB8W9JQymnAkHDtI-zQr4Q1Nab2kWIKFUPQA/s1600/Batgirl+is+unsympathetic.jpg">the best picture ever taken of his mother, Batgirl</a>, but eventually.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517671984531145034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9068143.post-45600843019875443502011-11-04T12:32:00.001-04:002011-11-04T12:33:22.194-04:00Thoughts on Occupy Wall StreetThis is the first essay-length philosophical thing I've written in four years. It took two hours to get everything right and do the cost research. It felt wonderful.<br /><br /> I was going to title this “What the Occupy opponents don’t get” but then I realized, heck, this is Occupy we’re talking about, and most of the protesters don’t get it, either. So instead it’s just some thoughts.<br /><br /> So, you’re a member of the non-struggling middle class. Perhaps you’re just an intelligent and reasonable person who knows what you want and doesn’t spend your time desperately trying to live a life well beyond your means. Lord knows that a real middle class salary can buy you a very nice life without credit, but if you’re constantly striving for more you’re going to always be unhappy and always be struggling.<br /><br /> Or, more likely (since there aren’t so many reasonable and intelligent people out there who live within their means), you’re actually part of the upper middle class or even the upper class but refuse to admit that to yourself or anyone else.<br /><br /> In either case perhaps you’re happy, satisfied, and not afraid, and you could care less about the Occupy protesters or the Occupy movement. Great! Good for you. You can stop reading now because I’m not talking to you. You don’t need a talking-to. You need to put a little money aside for a nice vacation and go pick up the kids from school.<br /><br /> But maybe you spend an inordinate amount of your time thinking about why the Occupy movement is wrong, why the protesters are boneheads or hypocrites or worse. Maybe you think that in reality if you just work hard and keep your expectations attainable you can live a perfectly happy life and shouldn’t be asking for handouts. Ha! You’re funny. You need to keep reading.<br /><br /> And maybe you think of yourself as just smarter than those idiot protesters, and you like to laugh at how they turn down job applications or refuse to offer their tents to the homeless. You, my friend, you are afraid of them. (And I haven't noticed you offering your living room to the homeless, either.) You don’t want to hear it—in fact, I just lost ALL of my readers who fit into this category because I’m not part of their preferred echo chamber—but the truth is, you are afraid of them. You are afraid because although you are comfortable now, you lack the requisite faith in yourself, your religion, or your society that, were things to change, and change meaningfully, you might not be able to make it. You are afraid that you could become one of the people Occupy is protesting for (or wants to think they’re protesting for; I suspect the majority of them are protesting to annoy Mom & Dad, who, ironically, were hippies themselves and protested mainly to annoy Mom & Dad. Who, of course, fought World War II and built the greatest nation-state the world has ever seen.)<br /><br /> The truth is, you’re afraid of something the protesters symbolize for you. It might be that you simply are afraid of anything that’s different; xenophobia is so third-millenium America, after all. Or it might be that, on some level, the bastards are actually right about something. But it’s too big of a problem or too difficult to really wrap your mind around and frankly life is so much easier and better if you don’t actually have to think about it. After all, the reason the echo chamber that is the modern opinionews industry (like that one? Infotainment is not the right word, since modern news doesn’t rely on information) is so successful is that frankly we all, all humans, want nothing more than to be justified, to have our feelings and opinions and attitudes reflected and justified by society (and Mommy and Daddy) to prove our own self-worth. <br /><br /> For people in subsistence societies this isn’t a problem—if you can help put food on the table in any way you’re justified. You’re all right. But for late modern humans in consumer cultures—and that’s about two or three of the seven billion of us—what we get from society every single day is that we aren’t good enough, that we need to buy more, have more, do more, see more or we aren’t worthy. We aren’t justified. Three generations have been raised now in this country and most of what we refer to as “The West” (Greece used to be a part of it, but not any more) under the guiding consumerist principle that your self-worth is entirely dependent upon your net worth. <br /><br /> (Aside: That WWII generation that was the last generation before this consumer culture spread its poison? Yeah, let’s not let them off the hook for their hand in creating said culture, okay? They were great. But when they came home they invented the American Dream, and that’s where it all started.)<br /><br /> If you conflate your self-worth with your net worth, some interesting things happen. First of all, you are never satisfied. Now, there’s something to be said (a lot, actually) for not being satisfied with where you are. But somehow not being satisfied with who and where you are no longer means that you need to learn more, or give more, or try to get better at your work, your hobby, or your life; it has instead come to mean that you aren’t satisfied with the income you have, the stuff you have, the material trappings of the life that you live. You strive to improve your position at work not because you want to be better for your own purposes, but because you need to get a raise to buy that cool new 3-D TV (hey, 3-D movie makers: you still haven’t improved on real life! How about just trying to write a good story for God’s sake? Damned sequel factory), the latest model-year car, and those seven dozen kitchen gadgets and new gas range from Williams-Sonoma you don’t actually know how to use. (Ever been through a model home in an upper-class development and seen the kitchen with the six-burner gas stove and commercial size fridge? Give me a damn break, more than half of the people who live in those homes don’t know how to cook anything more complex Spaghetti-o’s. But they have to have the best appliances!)<br /><br /> And so we come back to the anti-Occupy crowd (the ones who aren’t actually 1%-ers or investment bankers and actually have good reason to be scared). After three generations of self-worth/net-worth entanglement, these folks are, to be blunt, just scared that if society were in fact to change and we did in fact learn to separate our fiscal value from our human value, they’d have nothing to go on. They’d be unable to determine a self-worth, unable to find it, or, perhaps—and this is truly terrifying if you’re part of the crowd—that they might take a step back in relation to their fellow citizens. <br /><br /> This leads us, at last (hey, only two pages, that qualifies as brevity for me), to the original point, what the Occupy crowd (those who are protesting but also especially those who delight in making fun of the protesters) don’t get. We no longer live in a country where if you just work hard and do your best you’ll be rewarded and be able to afford the things you need and some of the things you want.<br /><br /> No, I’m not a communist. Hear me out. Now, the math for the pronouncement I’m about to make will be available after I tidy it up a bit because right now it’s scratch on paper. But let’s say we have somebody who is making minimum wage, works a 40-hour week every week without any vacation (52 weeks a year) and some occasional overtime, has an average commute and no car payment and lives in the cheapest safe apartment complex around, has a basic cell phone plan with a parasite company, eats hamburger and tuna helper and store-brand bologna sandwiches every single day except when ordering some stuff off the dollar menu at Burger King, never drinks any alcohol, doesn’t have health insurance and basically doesn’t go to the doctor, never goes out in the evenings to restaurants or clubs, and doesn’t have internet access or cable or satellite television. This person manages to spend $13,764 every year just for the bare minimums to sustain the above described existence in this country (and this is in a cheap part of the country). That’s before the poor soul has to purchase any clothing, or put any money aside for savings, or experience any sort of emergency from a car accident to an unexpected sickness to the need to replace something broken. And God forbid this person has children or other dependents. $13,764 is covering the basic needs for a safe but wholly uninteresting existence. <br /><br /> And how much does our safe dullard earn? Well, assuming he gets a bit of overtime here and there, we’ll give him a whopping $14,970 a year, after FICA but assuming no income taxes. So he’s got $1,206 at the end of the year he could put toward savings, pay for basic cable (which isn’t worth it; maybe he’ll get Netflix instead), or, given the way life goes, have to spend on some emergency (I had a $1400 unexpected medical bill this year. I sure as hell didn’t plan for that. That would break our poor hypothetical person).<br /><br /> Now, it’s all well and good for you to say, okay, but if this guy works harder, tries to better himself, earn a raise or a promotion, go to night school (which costs money he doesn’t have), get a better job, then he can rise out of that boring and meaningless existence and make something of himself. He doesn’t need the government’s (or my) help, and it’s just more evidence that everybody but me wants to get everything without working for it that anybody would complain about such a situation.<br /><br /> Fine. So our hypothetical man does get out of this job and makes a better life for himself. Good for him. But here is the key point: somebody else has to take his place. There will always be people who can’t make it, because there will always be a need in this country for people to do the minimum-wage scut work that the rest of us don’t want to do. Somebody is always going to have to be on the bottom of the pole. Somebody is always going to be barely getting by, if at all, and our economy demands that. You cannot take Homo economicus as an individual and say, he should get a better job, because the economy demands a H.economicus to work every necessary position, including the guy who cleans the toilets at Wal-Mart, and the guy who picks the tomatoes in Florida. Those guys cannot afford to live a decent life in America, and yet those of us who live better do so on the backs of those people. We aren’t standing on the shoulders of giants; we’re resting on the backs of midgets. And the last thing anybody wants is for the midgets to stand up and throw us off. That’s why Occupy is threatening, and why you feel a need to make fun of it. You rely on poor people to live even a moderately comfortable existence. <br /><br /> And here’s the kicker. If we decide, okay, those folks need to make $10 an hour. Everybody should earn a minimum wage that allows them to live decently, not just barely scrape by. Sounds good. I’m pretty sure I’m hearing that from Occupy types, some of them (some of them are just waiting for law and order to break down so they can get to looting, but that’s a tiny minority). So then what happens? Well, Wal-Mart’s salary expenditures go up by 50%, so their prices go up by a similar margin. Those of us who were previously comfortable now find that everything is more expensive, and we’re a lot less comfortable. Those tomato-pickers in Florida, the illegal immigrants you hate so much? Let’s let them earn a living wage, too, or, if you don’t like that, let’s throw them all out and hire unemployed Americans at the same living wage attested before; people would pick tomatoes for $10 an hour. But now your tomatoes cost $8.99 a pound (and that's for the nasty flavorless hothouse tomatoes bequeathed to us by Big Agriculture). A bag of lettuce costs $10. And because corn is doubling in price a whole roasting chicken now costs $3.99 a pound instead of 89 cents. But everybody’s earning a living wage! Except that wage has to keep rising because the cost of business keeps rising.<br /><br /> Know what doesn’t change in this scenario? How much money the 1% make. How much profit the corporations make. See, Wal-Mart will happily pay a higher wage, and raise their prices, whatever it takes to keep the profit margins where they are now so none of the high-rollers running the show have to take a pay cut and the stock price doesn’t fall. The richest, the ones with the power to change things, what the fuck possible reason do any of them have to change anything? The only way to create real change, change that doesn’t result in the endless inflationary cycle described above, is to fundamentally reevaluate how we value the wealthiest and most powerful people. And that is never going to happen.<br /><br /> That’s what Occupy should be protesting. And you can go home and listen to your echo chambers and make fun of the protesters, but bear in mind the echo chamber is owned by part of that 1%. You’re hearing what you want to hear because you’ve been told it’s what you want to hear by wealthy and powerful people who want you to think that way. As long as we continue to be lined up on opposing sides, we 99%, the 1% don’t have to worry. We’ll fight each other tooth and nail and let them keep the spoils.<br /><br /> H.L. Mencken once said that “the whole aim of practical politics is to keep the populace alarmed (and hence clamorous to be led to safety) by menacing it with an endless series of hobgoblins, all of them imaginary.” I might add that this is also the whole aim of modern capitalism. Capitalism is not bad (it's the best thing we've got, although no society has yet actually tried distributivism and nobody these days has even heard of the philosophy). The way capitalism is practiced in 2011, on the other hand, is not good. The protesters have a point. Their opponents have a point, too. But we’re all missing the bigger picture, and that’s exactly the way the power wants it to be.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517671984531145034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9068143.post-70681524949373604902011-11-02T17:12:00.003-04:002011-11-02T17:15:38.406-04:00Hey, Asshole!Yeah, you! The asshole who lives at 331 Shadowmere Dr., Pelzer, SC, 29669. You.<br /><br />You know that fucking piece of shit dog of yours is going to attack anybody who comes onto the property. You know that. <br /><br />You know somebody from FedEx (and probably somebody from UPS, too) is going to come to your house every single day, because you are constantly getting shit shipped to you for some sort of home-based cosmetics related business.<br /><br />So you know a delivery person is coming to your house every day. And you know that fuckstick dog of yours is going to attack.<br /><br />And you leave said fuckstick dog out, unchained, every. Mother. Fucking. Day.<br /><br />You, sir, are the fucking lowest form of human life present on this Earth. I sincerely hope that your dog will die, your business will fail, your home will be reposessed, your wife and family will leave you, and you will die miserable and alone. <br /><br />Soon.<br /><br />Fuck you.<br /><br />Sincerely,<br />Your (ex) FedEx manAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517671984531145034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9068143.post-3090605541328390852011-10-25T13:13:00.002-04:002011-10-25T13:27:32.093-04:00Lunch BreakThis morning Schrodinger (the cat) brought a squirrel in the house. He brings animals in from time to time, though I always cuss at him and squirt him with the water bottle when I catch him doing it. Which I usually don't. At least one morning a week I wake up and find a dead mole in the herbarium (the rental company calls it a "dining room," but as I have no dining table and eat on the porch or standing at the counter I don't use it for that; it's where I keep my seedlings and tender plants and seeds I'm trying to sprout), and earlier this week there was bird a loving left for me on the edge of the couch. The brand new clean couch.<br /><br />I can't get too upset at him for this. First of all I rarely actually catch him bringing an animal in, and you can't discipline an animal after the fact. But I know he's doing his part for the household, and after all, he is a once and future barn cat; I don't want him not hunting at all. <br /><br />But it would be nice if he would at least kill things before he brings them in the house (he comes and goes through a window in the herbarium). About a month ago I came home from work and there was this odd sound coming from the laundry room, which I eventually determined was a baby squirrel, hiding in the utility closet. He was okay; tail was a bit mussed and bloody but Schrodinger had clearly brought the squirrel in as a toy and hadn't actually hurt it much. But the thing was little and terrified. I put on an old flight suit and gloves and collected the squirrel, put him in a box with water and food, and let him calm down, then deposited him in a pine tree outside about two hours later.<br /><br />But this morning takes the cake so far. This morning as I was making breakfast--in fact, just as I was finishing up and looking forward to eating--Schrodinger bounds through the window with a live and squealing squirrel in his mouth. I cussed at him and squirted him with the water bottle, which was the wrong thing to do. He drops the squirrel and ducks back out the window, but does the squirrel follow? No. Squirrel goes nuts. Runs in circles around the room, through the kitchen, into and around the living room, then back into the herbarium where he takes up residence behind the bakers rack. <br /><br />And then the cat comes back in.<br /><br />You've seen Christmas Vacation. You know what happens when Snots the dog gets scent of the squirrel. This is what it felt like in my house this morning. I opened all the doors in the vain hope the squirrel would run outside, but no. Eventually he hid behind the entertainment center, so I jabbed an old tv antenna down there to flush him out. Didn't work. So I pulled it away from the wall far enough for Schrodinger to get back there, which he did. The squirrel disappeared. I didn't ever actually see it leave from behind the television. It could have gone outside but if it did, it gave the slip to both me and the cat. It's not under any of the furniture or in the dvd rack, and I had the bedroom and bathroom doors closed. So I assume it's gone.<br /><br />I had a massage scheduled for this morning. This was a good morning for it. Now I'm having lunch, and I assume the squirrel is gone. But I have a lot of cleaning up to do this afternoon...Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517671984531145034noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9068143.post-53666811495909516882011-10-18T15:12:00.005-04:002014-08-02T11:52:26.776-04:00BMW Interview Process: PhysicalOkay, so, we're on to step four in the process of getting hired on at the BMW plant in Greer (Spartanburg County).<br />
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Step four is the physical. Assuming you make in through the first three steps and get your conditional offer of employment, this physical represents the condition. Now, I don't know exactly what they're looking for. I am neither a doctor nor an HR person at BMW. But here's what the physical consisted of.<br />
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First, a ten-page booklet of questions for you to fill out the night before the physical. Not hard questions, mostly "have you ever been treated for X." When you arrive at the clinic (there are two, one in Spartanburg and one in Pelham village (which needs to incorporate already so it doesn't just get absorbed by Greer)), you'll have four or five more pages of things to fill out. You should arrive early, although I managed to scrape in just one minute before my appointment time and didn't get tossed out.<br />
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A nurse or technician will call your name. First thing she'll do is take your blood pressure and pulse (with an electronic monitor, which I maintain are vastly less accurate than the old-fashioned kind), weight, and height. Then you'll go through a series of little exams in whatever order the stations are free. You'll have an eye exam (I was evidently the fastest eye exam any of the techs had ever done), a hearing exam (I passed and I have lousy hearing, so you should be fine), and a breath test. This is a weird test; you blow into a tube as hard as you can. I have no idea what the purpose of this test was. Per the description of the exam I failed; however the doc later said I did fine.<br />
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You'll also have your samples taken for drug testing, urine and hair both (not mixed together). Finally you'll go to a little exam room and have an EKG. Last time I had one of these (ten years ago) it took 15 or 20 minutes. This one took about one minute, maybe less.<br />
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Then you get to stay in the exam room and change into a hospital gown and await the doctor. The doctor will come in and ask you a few generic questions, test reflexes, check for a hernia, that sort of thing, standard exam stuff. Then he'll go through your medical history that you wrote out on all those pages and ask any questions that seem significant. I have a history of lower back problems and depression. I was very concerned about the history of depression, for which I've actually been hospitalized (it was voluntary, at least). But I'm used to flight physicals. He didn't ask one question about that and didn't seem to think it would make any difference at all (I asked). <br />
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About the back, he had lots of questions. So you get an idea of what BMW is mainly concerned about. The only medical records I have relating to it (apart from some chiropractic adjustments) are from the Air Force; doc said, well, I don't know how long it will take you to get military medical records... to which I was able to respond that I had a copy of all my records. This made things much easier; he said BMW would want to look over the records pertaining to my back, and if I could just make copies and bring them by that would speed things up a great deal.<br />
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The book of paperwork I'd brought home last night mentioned getting all your medical records and having to sign papers to allow them to be shared with BMW. I'm touchy about that (the hospitalization), but doc said just get the ones related to the back problems and that was all they'd really be interested in. This is a tremendous time-saver for you; if you can get access to your own medical records before the physical so much the better; if not, it appears you may not need to get them unless you have back or joint problems (repetititive stress injuries, too). That said, if you do have a history of such problems and you can get copies of those records yourself before you start the interview process you'll probably save yourself a bunch of time.<br />
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The doctor will sign a note to the effect that he sees no medical reason you can't perform the job. But that is not the final word; BMW has the final word, whether that's through an HR officer or an in-housel doctor I don't know. <br />
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If the doctor signs that note and you're cleared to proceed, you'll do a fitness test. This is an odd test. It consists of a couple of static strength exercises--grip strength, forearm strength, push and pull--followed by lifting a 25-lb weight four or five times. Then you get to play a sort of electronic Wack-A-Mole game, where you have to use hand-held wands to touch buttons that display a red or green light. Seems really easy, but the four tests are tougher than you think: the first is just on a board in front of you, and is simple. The second is somewhat over your head, at an angle, and you have to play this Wack-A-Mole game for about three or four minutes. The wands aren't heavy but having your hands up over your head for that long is tiresome. The third is the worst--you have to play on two separate boards, the lower one of which is at the floor. You can't bend at the knees to reach that board, so you're constantly bending up and down at the hips, and this one lasts even longer than the previous one. The fourth one is easy if you're 5'9" or below, because it's a board at a generic "waist height." I could reach all the buttons without actually bending at all. If you were any taller than me you'd have to bend to reach the bottom row and that would be a much tougher test.<br />
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Finally you'll do a step test: step up and down on a stool continuously (at I must admit a rather slow pace) for five minutes. Throughout all the tests you'll have your heartrate checked.<br />
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I found the fit test unusual but not difficult. Even if you're in lousy shape (and I am at the moment) it's not going to be real tough, and doesn't require any sort of herculean strength.<br />
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So. At the end of it all, do I know whether I passed? No. The folks in the clinic don't make the decisions, as I said. The doctor's assessment is probably of significant importance in BMW's decision-making but clearly it is not the whole story. No matter how bad you do on any part of it, they're not going to chuck you out; you will complete the physical. I got the impression that if there were any red flags they'd send your info off to BMW before putting you through the fit test, but that was just an impression. The tech who ran the fit test said she didn't have any idea what BMW was looking for in terms of a minimum standard on those tests. <br />
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My advice, just relax and have fun with it. <br />
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Now, I've been told repeatedly that this is the longest part of the process: the wait, after the physical. Drug testing can be done locally now (though not in the office) so the wait on those results should be two or three days, max. If they decide to request medical records and they have to get them from your doctor's office it could take weeks. How long it takes BMW to look over your records and make a decision is anybody's guess. Like the Supreme Court it seems they take their decisions on their own time and in their own way. So now we wait. And tomorrow it's back to work at my regular job.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517671984531145034noreply@blogger.com212tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9068143.post-43201973829272850042011-10-18T15:12:00.002-04:002011-10-18T15:12:50.398-04:00Guava Buttermilk Biscuits?To the person who landed at this blog after doing a google search for "Guava Buttermilk Biscuits:" did you find a recipe? Were they any good? Will you share the recipe with me?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10517671984531145034noreply@blogger.com0