Categories
Books Plants

Of found gold and ghost orchids

After the orchid photos last week, a friend recommended that I check out the The Orchid Thief, by Susan Orlean. As serendipity would have it, Mike Golby just wrote a fascinating essay on the movie version of the book, Adaption, and the topic of passion, Gibson and otherwise:

We all have our desired Ghost Orchids and, damn it, we need them. I’m all for orchids. But the stronger our passions, the more we project them and the larger our shopping baskets become. Sometimes, we’re given opportunity to fill them. But I sometimes find myself hoping that, if confronted by one of my Ghost Orchids, I’d duck and run. Well, maybe not run; I’ll just play things cool… thinking things through, you understand.

There is beauty in the Ghost Orchid; beauty that can act as both impetus and anchor, and there’s only a thin fragment of self separating the two. As for me, I’m not sure that I am that passionate, about anything. I think, though, if I did come face to face with my Ghost Orchid, knowing who I am now, I would be content to look and not own. Regretfully.

Returning, though, to more mundane matters in passionate absentia, I was able to find The Orchid Thief at my city library, and the movie Adaption at my county library, along with a much desired documentary film on James Agee. I feel like a woman who has discovered gold coins when putting her hand into a seemingly empty satchel, and I will now indulge in an unseemly fit of gloating.

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Categories
Photography Plants

Magic of orchids

Did someone ask for a little color?

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Categories
Critters

Hiding from the Unknown

Earlier today, I noticed movement in the Bird Tree on the corner – a female Harrier Hawk was flying in among the branches chasing finches. Considering how closely packed the branches were, I was amazed at her agility.

I was saddened too, a little, because the tree is normally a sanctuary for the smaller birds. Now, they’ll have to scramble for a new shelter and I’ll lose some of the company that perches on my office window sill when the sun is out.

But the finches weren’t the only creature around frightened out of their normal habitat. This afternoon my roommate received a package containing a new down vest, and promptly started wearing it (it is a cold day). Whether it was the box or the smell of the feathers or what, but it scared Zoe, my cat, and she took off upstairs, refusing to come down all evening.

Instead of her usual evening lap time with my roommate (I have days), she stayed in my room, as close to me as she could, helping me work with my photos.

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It was nice having her company, but a bit much when I had to escort her downstairs to use her cat box.

Categories
Critters Photography

Archives: Eagle

It is a bitterly cold day today. I am restless, and want to get out of the house, go on a hike and admire the frozen streams and snow. Fly free, not hobble about. But I have duties today, including a chapter due.

Hobble. That’s a good word, eh? It means to ‘limp about’ and my ankle is still sore, though the bruising is going down. More, it also means ‘to hamper or impede’, and I am hampered from my hikes and find this frustrating.

Hard to believe that Ben Franklin didn’t want this fine bird to be our national symbol, but he didn’t and wanted the turkey instead. He found the eagle to be a deceitful creature, stealing food and bullying smaller birds. But I’ve seen eagles fish and care for their young, and I’ve definitely seen them soar – old Ben didn’t look closely enough to see the beauty amidst the avarice and aggression.

Or maybe it was his humor?

However, he’d probably be happy today: we may still have the Bald Eagle as symbol of the country, but there’s now a Turkey in the White House.

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Categories
Environment Political

Bet you can’t eat just one

For decades, government policies have allowed large amounts of underbrush and small trees to collect at the base of our forests. The motivations of this approach were good. But our failure to maintain the forests has had dangerous consequences and devastating consequences. The uncontrolled growth, left by years of neglect, chokes off nutrients from trees and provides a breeding ground for insects and disease.

The new law directs courts to consider the long-term risks that could result if thinning projects are delayed. And that’s an important reform, and I want to thank you all for that. It places reasonable time limits on litigation after the public has had an opportunity to comment and a decision has been made. You see, no longer will essential forest health projects be delayed by lawsuits that drag on year after year after year.

(From President Bush Signs Healthy Forest Restoration Act into Law)

Despite the Bush administration’s disingenuous rhetoric about ‘thinning underbrush,’ the Forest Service really focuses the vast majority of its projects on the removal of economically valuable mature and old-growth trees. The sale of such timber pads the agency’s budget, creating a bureaucratic incentive for mismanagement.

The problem with this is that while the removal of mature trees severely degrades wildlife habitat, such logging also increases the risk of severe fires by reducing the forest canopy, creating hotter, drier conditions on the ground. Also, the increased sunlight reaching the forest floor causes more rapid growth of flammable brush and shrubs.

Essentially, the Forest Service is removing the largest, most fire-resistant structural elements of the forest-the large trees with their thick bark-and leaving behind the smallest, most flammable material.

A century of intense logging in National Forests has not prevented severe fire conditions: it has created them.

(Chad Hanson Director of the John Muir Project, and national director of the Sierra Club.)

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Report from a Forest Logged by
the Weyerhaeuser Company

Three square miles clear-cut.
Now only the facts matter:
The heaps of gray-splintered rubble,
The churned-up duff, the roots, the bulldozed slash,
The silence,

And beyond the ninth hummock
(All of them pitched sideways like wrecked houses)
A creek still running somewhere, bridged and dammed
By cracked branches.
No birdsong. Not one note.

And this is April, a sunlit morning.
Nothing but facts. Wedges like half-moons
Fallen where saws cut over and under them
Bear ninety or more rings.
A trillium gapes at so much light

Among the living: a bent huckleberry,
A patch of salal, a wasp,
And now, making a mistake about me,
Two brown-and-black butterflies landing
For a moment on my boot.

Among the dead: thousands of fir seedlings
A foot high, planted ten feet apart,
Parched brown for lack of the usual free rain,
Two buckshot beer cans, and overhead,
A vulture big as an eagle.

Selective logging, they say, we’ll take three miles,
It’s good for the bears and deer, they say,
More brush and berries sooner or later,
We’re thinking about the future-if you’re in it
With us, they say. It’s a comfort to say

Like Dividend or Forest Management or Keep Out.

They’ve managed this to a fare-thee-well.

David Wagoner

(Thanks to Loren for poem.)