celebrating the big 5-0 and “the coincidence”

This is my 50th blog post, so I want to do something commemorative. (Sorry if the title is misleading to seem like a birthday, but I am still just barely over that halfway mark to 50 years of life.)

So how should I celebrate? Tequila!

Above is a photo of the tequila I got today in front of a painting my dad did (of a man named Peter Franco (yes, of relation to James)); a bamboo steamer my sister gave me for Christmas and which I stuffed at the top of my hiking pack for the post-holiday flight back to California; and a stack of books, all of which I recommend. They are, from top to bottom in this photo, This Common Ground, The Drunken Botanist, Preserve It!, & The Plan of Chicago which I do not see available online in this same form. It may be a rare reprint since I got this when I worked at The Burnham Plan Centennial. This version seems like it could be a reasonable substitution but I wonder about those famous Jules Guerin watercolors.

So after tequila, how do I want to celebrate? I guess as always I want to reflect on “the purpose” of keeping this blog which is to share sights, smells, thoughts, events . . . but even more fundamentally it is to mark something that is happening in my life. So, with that in mind, I just came across this book description the other night and looking at it now, it is exactly on-point.

“Not only are everyday coincidences meaningful, they actually provide us with glimpses of the field of infinite possibilities that lies at the heart of all things. From this realm of pure potential we are connected to everything that exists and everything that is yet to come. ‘Coincidences’ can then be recognized as containing precious clues about particular facets of our lives that require our attention. As you become more aware of coincidences and their meanings, you begin to connect more and more with the underlying field of infinite possibilities. This is when the magic begins. This is when you achieve the Spontaneous Fulfillment of Desire.”

That description is particularly ripe for me, having had the last couple days filled with meaningful coincidences, lessons, and heavy-hitting reminders. There have been enough coincidences that I might even call them significant collisions. One thing happens and another does not. One chapter ends and another is marked with ellipsis.

Basically, I feel both this:

And this:

This American Life also did a great story called “No Coincidence, No Story” back in March and if you are at all keen on that show, I would recommend that as a fun one to listen to.

And I will add that all three of these photos were taken today for different reasons and somehow now they have coalesced nicely to form the visuals and help tell the story of this post.

And finally, a toast: Cheers to the next 50!

All photos in this post are by me. All are subject to creative commons license. Thank you!

Meeting a Coyote

Yesterday, I met a coyote. I have known the coyote as it has been portrayed in many mythologies as a trickster.

“The epitome of the trickster, Coyote, like Prometheus and a number of other deities in other cultures, is credited with stealing fire from the gods to give to humans. There are numerous stories of Coyote’s exploits and his habit of getting out of some rather tight spots. [...] Coyote was both the creator of order out of chaos and the destroyer of order [...]. Coyote, like most tricksters, kept natural forces and other deities in check with his trickery and would chastise any deity that he felt had gotten too big for his or her divine britches.” says Archaeologist for Hire.

But meeting this young (maybe four-week-old) spirit was a revelation. He was sweet and gentle, and so incredibly meek and timid. I have never seen a more helpless-seeming creature. All of my mothering instincts kicked into gear.

photo by elizabeth birnbaum

So did Mandy’s. We all became coyote mammas.

photo by elizabeth birnbaum

And for a bit I was not sure what the plan would be for this little one. The decision was not mine to make—my friend found him on the side of the road, and though I thought the plan might be to keep him, the eventual plan was to take him to a native animal rehabilitation center and hopefully release him. So I hope that he did not imprint too much onto any human, because that would be problematic for him down the line.

Even with all of these thoughts swirling, I still wondered if I might want to keep him. I just couldn’t help thinking about it when he gave me this look and put his paw on my hand!

This is a hard face to resist.

photo by elizabeth birnbaum

But I really questioned the idea after my very first “pet coyote” google query unearthed this on a forum:

“Most coyote pups are very docile and bond easily to their human pack members. However, as they mature, their hormones and their instincts kick in. [...] the pup most likely will become dangerous when it gets older. And any time your neighbors are missing a cat or a small dog, they will look suspiciously in the direction of your pet.” (via)

Having never even owned a dog, I took pause at all of that. I still love the idea of keeping a coyote because when I held him, I felt connected to how simultaneously wild and vulnerable he was. He looked at me with its deep, dark eyes with total curiosity and awe. I looked back with total reciprocity.

After another google query I also found this gal’s blog, The Daily Coyote, the gorgeous photo below was the reason I clicked on it.

It was linked through a USA Today interview.

As I explored her blog I came across a photo which reminded me that the sweet little coyote pup would not be young, sweet, helpless, and cute forever. (Even though this photo was taken after a yawn, it was descriptive enough for me to reconsider my mothering instincts.)

And also, as I read that USA Today interview I found another point which gave me pause:

“Q: You get a fair amount of criticism for raising a wild animal in a domestic setting. You even castrated Charlie. What’s your response?

A: Well, it’s hard to take (the criticism) seriously because I don’t think I’m promoting someone getting a coyote for the romance of it. It was the only recourse we had to save the animal.”

…and I realized that for the sweet little guy I got to hold, he probably had another way out. If he can, he should have a wild life.

. . .

I have called to coyotes in the night. In the Fall of 2009 I went out to call to the wolves in northern Wisconsin at a cool place called Trees for Tomorrow. The wolves did not reply, but a pack of coyotes did instead. The noise is haunting and strange. And now sometimes, when I leave my windows open, I can hear coyotes calling as I lay in bed.

Now, when I hear their calls, I will think of the coyote I snuggled and temporarily mothered. And I will call back to them, howling along with the band and hoping that the little one I held is safe and wild.

photo by elizabeth birnbaum

Muir on the great central bee pasture

John Muir is aware. As I read this book, I am amazed by his attention to the world around him. I also love his way of framing beautiful nature in a string of descriptors. It’s romantic and on a day in these mountains like today, perfectly placed. Here is a selection from the chapter “The Bee-Pastures.”

When California was wild, it was one sweet bee-garden throughout its entire length, North and South, and all the way across from the snowy Sierra to the ocean. Wherever a bee might fly within the bounds of this virgin wilderness–through the redwood forests, along the banks of the rivers, along the bluffs and headlands fronting the sea, over valley and plain, park and grove, and deep, leafy glen, or far up the piny slopes of the mountains–throughout every belt and section of climate up to the timber line, bee-flowers bloomed in lavish abundance. [...] The great Central Plain of California, during the months of March, April, and May, was one smooth, continuous bed of honey-bloom, so marvelously rich that, in walking from one end of it to the other, a distance of more than 400 miles, your foot would press about a hundred flowers at every step.

—John Muir

Paicines, California

“Nearly all the great civilizations were irrigated ones. That single act—irrigation—seems inextricably linked to their ascendance, as well as to their demise.”

—Mark Reisner, Cadillac Desert

This weekend I went to the land of the great wide open—a place where you find hidden valleys littered with shotgun shells,

open roads lined with barbed wire fences,

and sharp turns along property lines.

Paicines is among the driest places I have ever been. It is also among the quietest. Even the Panoche Inn (see map below), which was featured on KQED, was a quiet retreat with Coors on tap.

It gives you a real sense of place to see that there is a local road called Jackass Grade.

And just over the hills are a bunch of green squares (The Central Valley).

It was not until we had reached the a little nook of a valley off New Indria Road where we hiked that I began to hear birds and, if I listened very intently in the right spot, running water. 

In a place so devoid of water, you could see where the water fed the plants with just enough to make them to flush green.

This life-giving stream muddied my shoes and the dog’s paws. It gave life to flashes of color (almost too sun-drenched to see).

I became an archaeologist, digging for bones.

I discovered forms which reminded me of the futuristic works of Paolo Soleri or the ship in the movie The Abyss.

And then found an awesome new bird to check off my life bird list: the American Cliff Swallow (recognized by its nests) and the dozens of little silhouetted swallows which swooped and dove above our heads.

All photos are subject to creative commons license. Thank you!

Horseshoes and Horsetails

I have just gotten back into using an SLR camera after being without one for almost 9 months. I have grown so accustomed to the ease of my iPhone for photos—so much so that the memory is full of them! And although I have missed the crispness of an SLR, it feels less than second nature to me now. I am also working with an unfamiliar, borrowed camera and have made a switch from Pentax to Nikon, so the whole experience is a little like learning to drive again on a foreign car.

In any case, I have been letting my muse move me as she pleases. I have taken a variety of shots of my immediate surroundings as I re-familiarize myself with the photo-lens as an extension of my eye. As I downloaded my first batch of photos, a natural (if not only superficial/name-based) pairing emerged—horseshoes and horsetails.

First, the horseshoes:

My friend Darby is a farrier. Actually, Darby is a badass farrier. She is also sort of a magician, in my estimation. She has a whole setup where she heated, bent, and shaped the metal for the shoe out of the back of her truck in my driveway. She just offered this (the forging of a horseshoe plus the experience of watching its making) as a gift to me. It was one of those stunning experiences and I am so grateful to have a little more luck in my life!

And for the horsetails:

I was driving home one rainy afternoon and as I was passing by, the light was a gorgeous blue-y hue and some interesting shapes caught my eye. There were these thick stalks poking straight out of the ground in droves, and I pulled over to get a better look. Upon closer inspection, there were probably hundreds of these horsetails (Equisetum telmateia) from Latin equus (horse) + seta (bristle). These are truly ancient looking plants. They are stunning and not native to my midwestern home, so I stopped to get some photos.

As I took these photos, I never imagined a pairing. I didn’t put the horsetail/horseshoe connection together until after the fact, but the pairing is intriguing, if not dichotomous. What do you think? Do these present a dichotomy or is that too strong of a word?

ALL PHOTOS IN THIS POST TAKEN BY ME. ALL ARE SUBJECT TO CREATIVE COMMONS LICENSE. THANK YOU!

The Voracity

I just voraciously devoured all of the issues of The Voracity by Anna Williams. There is something about them—it may be the rich content; the balance of complexity, simplicity, and a slight sinister tinge; or the streamlined web design itself—which has kept my mouse clicking through each and every issue. I stumbled upon this chic digital publication from a post on Yatzer which read “What do a fairy tale witch, a bullet-ridden roast chicken and a carnivorous plant have in common? Not very much, unless you’ve entered the hallucinatory world of visionary photographer Anna Williams, whose online venture “The Voracity” has taken the term ‘online publication’ to a whole different level.”(Despina Pavlaki).

Say no more. My favorite is the forager’s dreamscape, “A PRINCELY FEAST.” The scenes are lush, green, and bountiful, but all still feels handcrafted and even a bit delicate. The mood is completed by a fairy tale setup (“Once upon a time, a crushing famine brought a kingdom to its knees.”), a gauzey skirt is filled with morels, fiddlehead ferns still have specks of dirt, and doves that sit on a young girl’s arms. You can almost smell the mossy forest setting. I think this one is a real treat.

There are others . . . and each amazing issue has a distinctive look. I suggest you browse the site (if you haven’t already) and get caught up in the voracity.

All photos © Anna Williams Photography

Gesamtkunstwerk (or Honey, part 3)

I love finding areas of confluence—areas of overlap and synthesis are what make the arts so intriguing and so fresh.  The German language happens to have a fabulous word for this: Gesamtkunstwerk. (Yes, I spelled it right pre-Google. I have loved this word for years.) Wagner used this word to speak “of his ideal of unifying all works of art via the theatre”(via), and theatre is probably the best word to describe the fashion house of Alexander McQueen. If you are not familiar with his work and the work of the brand, just google “alexander mcqueen theatre” and you will find enough to convince you. Or scroll through some images on that search and again, I am confident you couldn’t dispute that this is theatrical (even costume-y) fashion. And now in a matter of my own opinion: it’s gorgeous.

Credit for the McQueen Spring/Summer 2013 collection goes to designer Sarah Burton. And I tip my cap at her. I love the layers of influence in these clothes. First. the choker of bees (above). This reminds me of folks like them:

and him: 

…who have real bee beards.

It is worth looking at the whole collection with it’s stylized beekeeper hats;

abdomen segment-inspired hip plates (how else does one describe this?);

and this corset which seems to be made out of propolis.

Overall I am totally enamored by this collection. It’s fun to have an eye for the theatre and design of it as well as the biology. What a fun puzzle!

“The collection is a study of femininity. We looked at erotica. Vargas girls, cages, corsets and crinolines and the idealisation of the female form. Nothing is set in a particular period. It’s about sensuality and skin but not nudity. We also wanted to express lightness, for the clothes almost to hover over the women who wear them.” says Sarah Burton, herself.

One Straw

If you haven’t read this, you should. The One Straw Revolution by Masanobu Fukuoka has shown so many eco-farmers the way of living lighter and  working less. For example, when the aphids attack your crop, you can react and spray, or you can instead take the view that this is doing the work of pruning for you—and that in this ecosystem, natural balances will come.