A flower collection

Spring Larkspur

Forty-one years ago, a now-forgotten science teacher in Creston, Iowa gave his class an assignment: turn in a collection of 35 dried flowers gathered in the area by the end of May. He was met with a silent groan from his class of sophomores -- I was one of them.

Flower Press

The project seemed impossibly huge and un-doable.  I doubted that 35 wildflowers existed in the hills of southwest Iowa. But my dad and I dutifully made a flower press out of two pieces of wood and I spent about a month combing the streets, roadsides and pastures around Creston, picking the wildflowers and carefully pressing them between sheets of waxed paper.

Dad

I know I didn't want to make the flower press, but it did the job well.  The collection, carefully stored in a Ziploc bag, contains yellowing sheets of paper on which are arrayed the wildflowers we picked that spring over 40 years ago. Some even retain hints of their original color.

Each flower is painstakingly labelled with the scientific name, common name, location, date, student name, amount of flowers in that locale. Here's an example:

Denturia lacinata
Toothwort
Northeast of Creston
April 17, 1971
Melinda Hall
Abundant

My dad took a real interest in the project.  Fortunately, he was a hiker and loved driving into the country on Sunday afternoons where we nonchalantly climbed over fences and trundled down hills in search of elusive Jacob's ladder, mayapple, and Dutchman's breeches. Those sunlit wildflower-hunting expeditions are precious memories, now that my dad is gone. And the names of many of the flowers have stayed with me, so that I can identify toothwort, columbine and false anemone with superiority and not a little pleasure.  


Wildflowers are everywhere -- abundant even on the hills of Iowa. May I always see the world with abundance!

Honeysuckle

Jacob's Ladder

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lily of the Valley

Spirea

Toothwort

             

Reading enjoyment at the Rochester Library Book Sale

I spent last night and this morning working at the Friends of the Rochester Library book sale. I am a member of the Friends and the book sale is by far my favorite event. I get to see a lot of people I haven't seen in a long time, browse used books, and hang around the library. What could be better?

Last night was a Members Only preview night, essentially the only tangible benefit for belonging.  I was in charge of checking off Friends names from the list. Of course some had not renewed their membership and I was willing and able to help them with that!  Last night was busy, but since the sale was open to the public today, it slowed down enough for me to do a little shopping.

Chelsea had asked me to look for books for her third-grade class and I found several by some perennially popular authors; Beverly Cleary, Roald Dahl, etc. I also picked up a copy of Harriett the Spy by Louise Fitzhugh, a book that played a major role in my writing ambitions. Finally, I couldn't resist buying a couple of books for me: Little Bee by Chris Cleave and Fall On Your Knees by Ann-Marie MacDonald. They  only cost a quarter each so I'm not out a lot of money if I don't like them.

When the sale closes tomorrow at four we will draw a Friend's member's name for a free Nook e-reader. It's somewhat ironic to give away an e-book reader at a used book sale, but the fact is that e-books are rapidly growing in popularity and many titles are available for free via booksonthego.org through the library. The role of the library itself is changing, but I hope that the idea of having books available for free, to everyone, never goes out of style. I'm not sure how long printed books will be around, but I do know as long as there are readers, there will be used books.

Eaglefest!

An eagle floating backwards down the Illinois River. RT McDonald photo.

We went on a mini-vacation last week to the area around Alton, Illinois with the express goal of seeing eagles. According to both anecdotal remarks from friends ("There's a lot of eagles there in January") and online research ("The eagles love to float down the river on the ice."), there were sure to be lots of eagles who had flown south to escape the winter ice up north.

Well, as often happens, things were somewhat different than expected. For one thing, it's been much warmer than usual due to global warming (a reality and not, as my GOP friends might have you believe, a myth created by Al Gore). According to the official eagle guide at Pere Marquette State Park, the number of eagles was down by at least 50%. Nonetheless, I got to see enough eagles to make the three days a great success.

An eagle's eye view.

On Monday we left Springfield, turning south and driving down through Calhoun County, a magical part of Illinois cut off from the rest of the state by the Mississippi River on the west and the Illinois River on the east. The otherworldly nature of this rolling area is enhanced by the fact that several ferries bring cars over the rivers -- so much more poetic than bridges. 

We glimpsed our first eagle along the Illinois River in Calhoun County north of Kampsville, peering out of an enormous nest and haughtily ignoring the passing traffic. After that we saw eagles all the way to Pere Marquette State Park, where we were staying in a cabin and took advantage of a Bald Eagle Special for $79 which included 2 glasses of wine and $10 off a meal in the lodge restaurant.  Now that's a good deal!

Ron and pelicans

Ron took pictures along the Illinois River in the twilight.   There were no eagles, but three pelicans swam up the river and headed somewhere onshore for the night. Lovely...

Eagles hang out in a tree.

After a night of wine drinking in the awe-inspiring lodge, we rose early to catch the bald eagle tour led free by the state guide (it never ceases to amaze me the free services given out by the state). An informative talk/video (did you know that the national bird was almost the turkey?) was followed by a several hour caravan through prime eagle territory, including one stop below Lock and Dam 25 on the Mississippi, where a whole bunch of eagles seemed to be taking a break on a tree. The trip ended at an establishment called The Barefoot Bar in Hardin overlooking the Illinois River. I had a yummy lunch of chicken livers and Dr. Pepper, which later disagreed with me and sent me for considerable quality time in the restroom of the Hardin Shell station. 

We caught dinner at Fast Eddie's in Alton where the hamburgers are 99 cents and the beers are $3.70 (and you are required to have a drink). Still a good deal. 

Me at the cabin at Pere Marquette

Midway through the night, we awoke to scurrying and scratching sounds from the general vicinity of our attic. The wildlife had decided to get warm. Oh well, that's what you get when you bunk in a state park.  More alarming were the yells next morning around 8 outside our door when the convicts started trimming the bushes. Although I pleaded with him, Ron refused to take a photo of the group with their armed guard. Now that's a photo op!

An eagle as big as a building!

It was raining  and no eagles were in view, except for this large blow-up one outside the Melvin Price Locks and Dam.  We headed home. It was a wonderful vacation though, but it has not quenched my desire for our magestic national symbol!

Living History and Romance

The Dana-Thomas House as drawn by Marion Mahony

I haven't posted in a long time, but never fear, I'm still alive and kicking. Busyness and decreasing energy have combined to put me on the couch most afternoons, taking a refreshing nap. But I have acquired a cleaning lady (yessss!) and lost a writing client (hard to let go of that) so I now have more energy to do the things I truly enjoy, not the least of which is supporting Springfield's hidden treasure, the Frank Lloyd Wright-designed Dana-Thomas House.

Mahony and Kitty Wright

I had to give up leading tours of the house several years ago when my tour groups began worrying that I might fall down the stairs on top of them (and there are lots of stairs in that house). Even though I continued to edit the volunteer newsletter, I missed being inside the lovely, unusual home.

Moonchildren Fountain decorated for the holidays

Now, thanks to a trend at historic sites that allows a visitor to experience what living in the place must have been like, I have a chance to get back in the house. On the house's first "Living History" day, Saturday, December 10, I sat next to the Moonchildren Fountain and portrayed Marion Mahony, a woman architect who helped design the fountain and created many presentation drawings for Wright. Born in 1871 to progressive parents, Mahony was forward-thinking herself, earning a degree from MIT (then called Boston Tech) in 1894 and joining Wright in his studio the following year. In the 18 years she worked for Wright, Mahony contributed greatly to his thinking and became an integral part of his studio, growing close to his first wife Kitty.

Walter Burley Griffin Canberra But wait, the plot thickens! In 1901, handsome young architect Walter Burley Griffin joined Wright's studio and Mahony, a plain woman five years his senior, fell madly in love with him. Griffin's biggest fan and stalwart supporter, Mahony left Wright's studio after Wright absconded to Europe with Mamah Cheney.  She joined forces with Griffin and they collaborated on a number of projects including the Rock Crest Rock Glen in Mason City, Iowa, seen as their most dramatic American design development. The couple married in 1911, at the same time submitting the winning design for the Australian planned city and capital, Canberra.  Mahony became an outspoken critic of the flamboyant Wright, deriding him at every opportunity (not that he let it bother him).  The Griffins had no children and Mahony returned to the US when Griffin died in 1937. Susan Dana and friends at the first "Living History" event To have the opportunity to portray this talented and complex woman and get back inside the house is a wonderful Christmas gift! Visitors seem to enjoy talking with costumed characters representing Susan Lawrence Dana, Governor and Mrs. Charles Deneen, Forence Lawrence and Richard (Dickie) Boch, among others. Traditional tours will remain the mainstay at the newly reopened house, but "living history" tours will be offered on the second Saturday of each month. I love this new way to make history come alive!

Iowa: Nostalgia and a hint of strangeness

Mom studies the Knotty Pines' menu

The older I get the more fond I become of my birth state -- Iowa.  My husband and I spent the Labor Day holiday with my mother, sister and her family, and I actually enjoyed it.

The countryside around Creston is mostly rolling hills and woods, unsuitable for most crops but perfect pasture.  Black Angus cattle dot the hillsides and, fittingly, we went to the Knotty Pine steak house for dinner Saturday.  The steak there is unlike any I have ever eaten: complex, flavorful, and inexpensive. Even a funnel cloud dipping down from a storm bank, a regular Iowa phenomena, wasn't enough to get us to leave this repast.

Mt. Pisgah

The weather was unsurpassed, with highs in the 70s each day, and we took advantage of it to drive out to  Mount Pisgah Sunday. At its height in the early 1850s, Mt. Pisgah had 2,000 inhabitants and was where the Mormons stopped after leaving Nauvoo, Illinois. The Mormons left in 1852 to travel to Utah and pretty much all that is left is a monument to the emigrants who died there.

Green Valley Lake (CNA photo)

3 Mile Lake

While we were out, we took a drive around the man-made 3 Mile Lake, which has replaced dried-up Green Valley Lake as the fishing and camping hot spot in southwest Iowa. Interestingly, both 3 and 12-Mile Lakes were named for their distance from Mt. Pisgah.

To break up the trip, on the way home we decided to search out the "famous" pyramids located in Monroe County. We got some vague directions from a website and really didn't expect to locate the cemetery, but then, as we drove down a gravel road, there they were: three miniature pyramids at the back of a country graveyard.

Ron took a fun picture of me "holding" one of the pyramids.The pyramid story, as provided by the Iowa Gen Web Project, goes something like this:

"After reading more than 2,000 books, Axel Peterson, past 70 and the publisher since 1913 of a miniature paper called Boomer, began to realize his dream of building three pyramids in the Chisholm (better known as Hickory Grove or Convenator) Cemetery northwest of Avery during 1939.

 “One of his books told the story of the ancient pyramids in Egypt and contained diagramed details of their construction.  If there were pyramids in Egypt, Axel thought, he could build them here as well.

"Peterson’s neighbors built the pyramids of native sandstone and cement.  The largest of the three contains a crypt where Peterson planned for himself and a friend from Minnesota, Heymooler, to be entombed.

“An upside-down iron bed of a dump truck was used for the roof and upper side walls of the crypt.  Concrete benches and a table were planned so that Peterson and Heymooler might be encased in cement and seated facing each other.  These plans were never realized, however, and Axel was buried in the Cuba Cemetery east of Avery instead.

“Today, the pyramids stand as strange symbols to Axel Peterson’s faith.  They attract many sight-seers as well as providing a place for young people to gather.”

Men's dorm & the Tower of Invincibility

We decided to look for Maharishi University School of Management in Fairfield and were amazed to find a large and flourishing, if somewhat odd, campus. While I explored on my scooter, Ron talked with an aging long-haired man who had worked for the college as a janitor in the past. Ron asked how people find out about this college and the man said that in his case San Francisco just got too expensive. Makes sense somehow.

We're back on the flat plains of central Illinois now, but I kind of miss Iowa.

When did "feminist" become an insult?

"You're just a feminist!" It's become an insult directed at mostly us middle-aged women when we get intractable or independent or even say something that doesn't jibe quite right. But it wasn't always that way.




Back in the 70s, during the dark ages when I was in college, feminism was at its peak. There were women burning bras and Ms. magazine was going strong -- the whole movement was very chic. It was fashionable to be a feminist -- those students who weren't were considered a little backward.

Hunter S. Thompson

But in 1977, I graduated and entered the "real world." I landed a reporting job and had to immediately start working with men. Now, these men were, by and large, nice guys, but they were used to working with young women as secretaries, not professionals.They didn't know what to do with a dewy-eyed college grad who admired Tom Wolfe and Hunter S. Thompson.

The feminist movement aimed to change that attitude, either peacefully or, if that didn't work (and it seldom did), through radical actions. The radical feminists were out there doing the heavy work while the rest of us went to every day. Slowly, but surely, change happened.

Now, 30 years later, the word "feminist" conjures up visions of a strident old bat with no sense of humor. But I remember when the work world was much different (watch Mad Men if you want to see what it was like). Whether or not it is acknowledged, my two daughters are treated in a completely different manner and have much wider opportunities than we had in 1977.

Gloria Steinem

Women have definitely influenced the workplace. From my vantage point, having spent years in management, most workplaces have become much more accommodating to families. That's important when over half of your workforce is women. When they aren't worried about children sitting home alone or missing doctors appointments or being late to work because one of the kids missed the bus, they function much better. It helps when you have been there and done that. You know what it's like.

These changes wouldn't have happened without the feminist movement. In my experience, people don't change their behavior without some benefit to themselves and the 1960s male-dominated workforce was functioning quite well, thank you very much. What it didn't foresee was that women were tired of being forced into roles they weren't suited to play.

Activists like Betty Friedan, Gloria Steinem, and Simone de Beauvoir pointed that out again and again and again, until, in spite of ourselves, we changed the way we thought about women. As a result, the 2011 work world is a better place for women. It's not perfect, but it's a hell of a lot better.

Call me a feminist. I'm proud of it.

An Opening at Gallery II

PAA President Roland Folse and Ron

Last night we attended a gala event -- the opening of the Juried Associate Member Show at the Prairie Art Alliance's Gallery II.  Ron had two photos on display and we both were pretty excited about the evening.  And, even though Ron didn't sell any photos at the event, we had a great time.

When the show opened the two-room gallery was already packed with people -- a mixture of tattooed, long-haired artsy types; tourists with time on their hands after seeing the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library and Museum, folks who appeared to have come only for the free food and wine, and twenty-somethings with young children in tow. It was an eclectic group, but everyone was in a good mood -- after all it was Friday.

PAA member artwork (one of Ron's is horse in top row)

The member art was in one room and was a (surprisingly) high-quality show consisting of photos, paintings,
jewelry and sculpture, most of it priced reasonably. I've always liked the idea of patronizing local artists -- it's so much more satisfying to have a beautiful original from a local artist than a mass-produced print from Bed, Bath and Beyond. Plus the piece often has a local tie-in, showing a landmark or vista from the Springfield area.

Ron's whole family (with the exception of one sister and her husband who had just left town the day before)

Ron's sister takes his photo

showed up to support him -- amazing! I took a couple of "rest stops" on a bench on the street outside the gallery when it got too hot and crowded, then ventured back to talk with some of the local artists.  Many of these creative men and women have day jobs and who pursuing their dreams on nights and weekends.  They inspire and encourage.

As Bloody Mary sang in "South Pacific":

You got to have a dream,
If you don't have a dream,
How you gonna have a dream come true?