A Great Week

We have just finished a great family week. A visit of one daughter and two grandsons gave us an opportunity to do a lot of family activities; we spent time with SEVEN of our 16 grandchildren!

It has been very hot in Texas, and that meant that many of our activities were on or in the water. We went tubing on the Guadalupe River and then another day on the Comal River (the shortest river--at 3.2 miles) in the United States. We spent a day at the great pools at Landa Park and an entire day at the famous Schlitterbahn water park.

In addition, we went to the Alamo and attended the revue put on by the teen agers who had been at musical camp at the San Pedro Playhouse. There was a also a visit to Austin to see more family and then to witness the nightly egress of bats from under the Congress Avenue viaduct. The bats emerge at dusk every evening--all 1.5 million of them--the largest urban bat colony in the United States.

What a fun week!

If it's Not One Thing, it's Another

The other morning I awakened and looked out my bedroom window to look eye-to-eye with this deer, hungrily eyeing the plants on my berm. I really wish I'd had a pellet gun instead of a camera!

Then today I turned the hose on low to soak the herb garden near the house. All of a sudden, the healthy parsley plant was almost gone! We have been having intense heat, but this garden had been getting periodic waterings, so I didn't see how the parsley could have dried up so quickly. And then I spotted the little critter in the second picture! I like monarch butterflies, but I thought they only feasted on milkweed. And, as I looked closer, I saw (no surprise) this little critter had several siblings happily munching away. I guess I'll be buying my parsley at the market for the rest of the summer. If it's not one thing, it's another!

A Book to Recommend: Woodsburner

John Pipkin, Woodsburner

John Pipkin’s first novel, Woodsburner, is not only a good story that is beautifully written, but it is also a fictional account of an actual historical event that in fact may provide new insights into an important American writer. A year before Henry David Thoreau went off to live in the woods at Walden Pond, he accidentally started a fire that destroyed three hundred acres of forest near Concord, Massachusetts. The novel is wholly centered on that fateful day—30 April 1844—and Pipkin weaves the facts known about the fire and its destruction with the lives of fictional characters who were involved in one way or another in that conflagration. In uniting these facts with the supposed impact of the fire on a select group of the citizens of Concord, Pipkin not only adds to the myth of the father of American environmentalism, but also tells the story of a young nation in a unique and memorable way.

Thoreau himself is perhaps of necessity the main character of Woodsburner, but he shares the stage with fascinating characters whose stories are in and of themselves compelling and give a panoramic picture of the life in one town in antebellum America. There is a bookseller who most of all wants to be a playwright, who spends his entire life on a melodramatic piece that he can never bring to fruition, who supplements his income by adding a line of pornographic pictures to his wares. There is a fire-and-brimstone Unitarian preacher whose secret vice is opium—as well as the fear that faith is a sham and that nothing awaits after death. There are two Bohemian lesbians who have escaped incarceration for their love in the old world to begin life anew together in the new world. And, most endearingly of all, there is Oddmund Hus, a Norwegian immigrant whose father accidentally burned up the ship that had brought him and his family to the new world as it sat in Boston Harbor waiting to dock, forcing young Odd to face the new world alone.

Throughout it all is Thoreau, who starts the fire, watches in fascination as it burns, tries to put it out himself, sends for help to Concord, and fears retribution for his deed. Alternately, throughout the day, as he studies the fire, muses on the fire in his own philosophical way, and attempts to extinguish it, Thoreau frets about his future and wonders if life has nothing more in store for him than work in his father’s pencil factory. It was several years later that Thoreau wrote some of the most famous words in American literature: "I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived." To read Woodsburner is to invite speculation on the accuracy of Thoreau’s words explaining his two years at Walden Pond. Was there something else—the memory of the conflagration—that necessitated ongoing expiation by this exile?

Woodsburner is thus not only a fresh, new insight into one of America’s important writers but also a fine novel that you will not want to end and an introduction to characters who will stay with you long after the novel is put aside.

Lavender!

This past weekend was the Texas Lavender Festival in Blanco, a Hill Country town about half an hour northwest of us. There are six lavender farms in the environs of Blanco, and we managed to tour four of them. And did we ever see lavender! Row after row of lavender plants in field after field. And these are not puny little plants but lavender bushes often 18 inches to three feet wide. What a spectacle!

I have always had lavender in my gardens, various varieties with different characteristics, but lavender has been hit or miss with me. We had several good lavender plants in Connecticut that all disappeared one winter. I always figured that the soil which produced excellent rhododendrons was a little too acidic to sustain lavender, so I tried adding lime to sweeten the soil--with little success. When we visited Cape Cod in warm weather, we always stopped by the Cape Cod Lavender Farm both to admire the crop and to buy various lavender products. I never could figure how the growers there were able to produce a lavender crop when I had such mixed success.

Seeing lavender grown in Central Texas with its poor limestone soil was a revelation. Now it all made sense why the lavender capital of the world is Provence in France with--of course--chalky soil, just like the soil in our area. The lavender in Blanco was often growing in and amongst limestone boulders, just as in our back yard.

We bought a number of plants and plopped them down in the back part of the yard right among the rocks. Though we are having intense heat (unusual for this early in the season) the plants seem to be flourishing already. I think we may have found our crop! Best of all, the lavender growers in the area do not bother fencing the lavender to deter the deer. We may have finally found something (besides rosemary) that deer will not touch.

Does it Really Matter?

Several years ago when we lived in Minnesota, we noticed that something strange happened when the weather got really cold (and it does get really cold in Minnesota). Some people left their cars running in the parking lot when they went into a store to shop, presumably because 1) they feared it would not start again in the bitter cold, or 2) they wanted to return to a warm automobile. The television newscasters warned against this practice, reminding people that car thieves were known to hang out in parking lots looking for idling cars. Easy to steal!

Today I noticed the same phenomenon when I was out shopping after church. In Central Texas, however, the excuse is surely to avoid returning to a car blistering hot in the summer sun. These cars were running (presumably with air conditioners going full blast) to guarantee a cool car after a shopping expedition.

Have these people not heard of global warming? Of the depletion of the ozone layer? Does it matter what I--one single person--do for my comfort? Yes, it does.

Freedom of Speech

Paul Krugman's column in today's New York Times should be required reading for all. Here is how it begins:

"Back in April, there was a huge fuss over an internal report by the Department of Homeland Security warning that current conditions resemble those in the early 1990s--a time marked by an upsurge of right-wing extremism that culminated in the Oklahoma City bombing.

Conservatives were outraged. The chairman of the Republican National Committee denounced the report as an 'attempt to segment out conservatives in this country who have a different philosophy or view from this administration' and label them as terrorists.

But with the murder of Dr. George Tiller by an anti-abortion fanatic, closely followed by a shooting by a white supremacist at the United States Holocaust Museum, the analysis looks prescient."

How does the Homeland Security report and these two acts of right-wing terror relate to freedom of speech? Today--unlike the early 1990s--we have a bevy of right-wing writers, opiners, and news readers whose rants encourage disturbed people like these two murderers. We Americans cherish our freedom of speech perhaps above all others, but when does freedom of speech have its limitations?

The matter rose to the attention of the Supreme Court during World War I about the right to distribute handbills against the draft in one of the famous constitutional law cases, Schenck vs. the United States. In the unanimous ruling Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes articulated what still stands as the criterion for limiting speech--when the speech creates a "clear and present danger." A person does not have the right to falsely yell "fire" in a crowded theatre. The right of the audience to avoid a catastrophe caused by mob panic trumps the right of someone to yell whatever comes into his head.

Is it time to invoke the "clear and present danger" argument against the spewers of hate that incite disturbed individuals? When does the right of the extremist commentators and pundits to create havoc end and our rights as a citizenry to safety begin?

Abide in Me

Our church (St. John's) is located in the Diocese of West Texas. I know, the Hill Country is not exactly West Texas, but dioceses aren't always geographically aptly named. For geography, however, here is one startling fact about the diocese: it covers 69,000 square miles. How big is 69,000 square miles? The diocese is larger geographically than any state in the United States east of the Mississippi River. When I first heard that statistic, I had to verify it for myself, so I looked up the area of what I consider geographically large eastern states--Pennsylvania, New York, Maine. Yes, it is true: 69,000 square miles is a lot of area.

Saturday the diocese put on a ministry development workshop for churches in the diocese, allowing various parishes to showcase best practices in stewardship, worship, and a variety of other areas. The conference attracted almost 500 participants--much more than the organizers had ever anticipated. It was held at TMI, an Episcopal school in the hills outside San Antonio. Our church had 22 participants--probably the largest per capita representation in the diocese. The workshops were practical and useful, and I was especially pleased to spend time with an excellent church musician, Fran McKendree from North Carolina.

Merle Haggard at Gruene Hall

Back to Gruene Hall for a raucous evening of Merle Haggard's music. What fun! Ol' Merle is 72 now, so it is great to be able to see him in such an ideal setting (and only 8 minutes from home). Merle may look haggard (sorry) but his voice is as pure and clear as it was when he sang "Okie from Muskogee" years ago. And, lest you wonder about ol' Merle's current politics, he endorsed Hillary Clinton for president in 2007. He's come a long way from the sentiments in "Okie from Muskogee"!

Merle had his regulars with him (as grizzled as he is) but also had a couple of fresh-faced kids (one of them is still a teenager)--the Malpass Brothers. When they sing, you could close your eyes and think you were hearing Johnny Cash or Hank Williams at the start of their career. Definitely an act to follow as they begin to become famous.

Honk

Last night we went to see a student production of "Honk" at the San Pedro Playhouse in San Antonio. Our son A. was the musical director for the show, which was well choreographed and thoroughly entertaining. "Honk" is the musical of the ugly duckling story. It was fun watching the teenaged performers, but it was even more fun watching our two-year old grandson at his first play. If you can keep a two-year old's attention for an hour, it has to be good!

A Walking Stick

I think the last time I saw a “walking stick” (insect) was at some point in my boyhood. Imagine my surprise at spotting this one climbing up the walls of the casita the other night! This gentle herbivore (order: Phasmida) was kind enough to wait until I grabbed my camera to record its appearance. Naturally, seeing a walking stick for the first time in years drove me to the internet for some research.

The name comes from the Greek for “apparition,” presumably because when you spot this insect on a tree branch you are not sure if you are seeing a twig or an insect. What is fascinating to me is that so much is not known about the order Phasmida. For example, the insects often sway back and forth, and scientists are not certain why. One explanation is that this swaying is a protective device since the swaying mimics a branch blowing in the wind. The shape and color of the insect provide it with one of the most efficient natural camouflages of any insect.

There are over 3000 species of Phasmids, and their range is largely the tropics, which explains why I never spotted one in Connecticut or Minnesota. My little specimen was “only” about 6 inches long, but in Borneo a type of Phasmid grows to 13 inches (with a length of 21 inches with the legs outstretched), making walking sticks one of the longest insects on earth.

These insects are gentle and often end up in a child’s terrarium, where it can be observed at close range. I always assumed that the walking stick and the praying mantis were related, but that is not the case at all. Mantids are carnivorous, not herbivorous, so about all they have in common is their elongated shape.