Taking a Moment

The joy of blogging, I had discovered, was in taking the time to take in life. Whether taking in the visual or aural texture of one’s surroundings, or the intellectual implications of a thought, the process always required me to take time, take in all in, think about it, and put it in words.

I’ve missed that experience over the last year. Being a time of transition, I found the changes themselves occupied my time and kept away the quiet moments, the moments of reflection on even just one thought.

So, this evening, as I left the Cambridge Library, I took a moment. In the quiet warmth of a late afternoon sun in the waning days of summer, I sat on a bench outside. I just let the gentle warmth touch me. I let the relative quiet settle me. My cell phone battery almost dead, I was freed from the usual distractions, and just took in the view: the architecture of the library extension, the light brown of a wood porch on a triple-decker on Ellery Street.

So wonderful, taking a moment.

Walden Pond and Henry David Thoreau

31 October 2010: Early on this cold, gray Sunday morning, I drive out to Walden Pond, to visit the woods when it is quiet. I walk the paths around the pond, where some 165 years ago Henry David Thoreau also came to spend 2 years in the quiet of the woods.

Much has been written about Thoreau. But what touches me most is the idea of living simply and going to the woods for the quiet and peace of nature.

A Brief History of Walden Pond

The glacier: The story begins 15,000 years ago with the retreating Laurentide Glacier sculpting a deep fresh-water pond. Over much of the New England landscape, the glacial retreat carved out ponds and left mounds we now call hills or drumlins.

The transcendentalist: In 1845 this little kettle pond had a visitor. A 28-year old philosopher and graduate of Harvard College arrived in Concord, where his friend Ralph Waldo Emerson owned land on the north and east shores of Walden. Only 1 years earlier in Concord, the Fitchburg Railroad was built from Boston. This line provided transportation that allowed Thoreau to venture from Boston to the woods at Walden.

Life in the Woods: Thoreau proceeded to build a simple cabin near the pond, “squatting” on his friend’s land. His purpose is summarized on a sign near his cabin site. “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.”


Below: The site of the cabin is marked by the granite stones
Below: Replica of the cabin (near the parking lot)


Below: Walden Pond as Thoreau would have seen it from his cabin.


Thoreau, a Kindred Spirit

In high school, Henry David Thoreau was one of my favorites. I really loved the idea of living simply, without a lot of clutter and distraction. I enjoyed reading about his days living near Walden Pond in Concord, Massachusetts. But, I lived over 200 miles (350 km) away in New York State, so I had no idea of what the pond or woods at Walden looked like.

But I came to know a secluded pond near where I lived. Pine Meadow Lake was deep in the woods away from paved roads, and about a 1/2 hour hike. It was like my little Walden Pond. As a teenager, I was shy, socially awkward. I didn’t not quite fit in, and felt my family did not understand this yearning within. So, like Thoreau, I too went to the woods was where I could think and clear my head. With sunlight glistening off the clear waters and filled with the starry idealism of the late ‘60s/early ‘70s, it was my little oasis.

Living in Massachusetts

I came to Boston for college, in part to get some distance from my family and become my own person. Though I was nearer to Walden, it was years before I visited. (I think the first time might have been skinny dipping in the moonlight while in college – not exactly a spiritual pilgrimage to the sacred ground where my kindred spirit lived.

A bit older now, I’ve been to Walden a number of times to walk around the pond and spend a few moments at the site of the cabin. The reservation at Walden is well-used by swimmers and hikers and fishers. It’s probably, too well used.

So, I came to visit early on this chilly Sunday morning, when the woods are quiet and peaceful. It is the last day of October. The foliage is long past its peak of brilliant hues. The sadness and melancholy of fall becoming winter is setting in. Yet, I came, to spend a few moments, to contemplate living simply, and to share this with my on-line friends.

Feline Thermal Units

Fall is here and the days are shorter and colder. Being staunch New Englanders, we resist turning on the heat until at least Thanksgiving. (New Englanders joke that this gives us something to be thankful for!) Without heat, how to keep warm? Warm sock, sweaters, staying active (e.g., I never feel cold when I’m vacuuming). That’s a few ways.

But our favorite: feline thermal units (or FTUs)! To you, they may look like ordinary house cats. But as warm blooded mammals, they give off a good bit of heat. While heat and air conditioning are often measured in BTUs (British thermal units), we’ve converted from BTUs to FTUs.

Our FTUs come with other nice features: soft fur, a pleasant meow, and deep purrs (they have a 4-stroke motor – after 4 strokes on the head or back, they start a gentle yet strong purr). They also come with 4-on-the-floor, pointed ears, and a sandpaper tongue – all standard equipment.

So, whether watching TV sitting on the couch or sleeping in bed, before we turn on the heat, we take advantage of our FTUs!

Climbing a smaller mountain

Last year we took on the 2,000 foot (650 m) climb of Mt. Monadnack in New Hampshire, the 2nd most climbed mountain in the world, with a summit at 3,165 feet (965 meters). It took some time, but the view from the mountaintop and the sense of accomplishment was worth the effort.

This year, we took on a smaller mountain, known as Pack Monadnack, located in Miller State Park. I think of it as the little baby sister of Monadnack. It is about a more modest 800 foot (250 m) climb from the base parking area to its summit at 2,290 feet (750 m). At right is the view of the big mountain taken from the climb of "little sister."

Still it was an enjoyabe climb. And from a tower on the top of the mountain, one can get a good view all around.

Left: the vista towards Mt. Monadnack, from the climb up Pack Monadnack.

Below: along the trail on the climb


Below: The flora along the path: white birch, oaks, ferns

Below: Vista from the tower at the summit

Fireflies

My idyllic version of a summer evening: warm (but not too humid), a clear sky, and a big field or meadow to roam barefoot, just at dusk as the fireflies come out.

This is just such a vivid image from the few times in my childhood when I was away from the city, often on vacation or visiting family. There were a few early teen years when we lived outside the city, but by then, fireflies were not the first thing on my mind.

I just love watching them fly. If it is just after dusk, you can often see them between blinks. But as night approaches, it is only their occasional blinks of yellow light that hints at the pattern of their gently looping flight above the lawn or into the bushes and trees. It is just such a peaceful scene.

I love to catch one just momentarily and peak as it blinks in the darkness of my cusped hand. Then, I let it just fly away. So, gently.

But, their blinking has romantic overtones as the males are in search of their mates. What a wonderful courting ritual!

While I love living in the city, I truly miss the spectacle of fireflies in the meadow on a warm July night!

My Little Garden, the 2010 Edition

Living in the city, there's not much space for anything. But, we have a tiny little patio behind our home and I can do some gardening around the patio. I love getting my hands in the soil and planting my flowers and vegetables. And I enjoy watching everthing grow and make this little patio in the city as my little pretty oasis. For comparison, see my 2009 garden and my 2008 garden.

Of the Fear and Joy of Flying

For me, I have two thoughts about flying. First, the views from flight can be spectacular, being up with the clouds and looking down on fields and farms and cities and mountains. And then there’s the anxiety and sweaty palms that comes during turbulence and rough landings.

Last week life, I took to the airways for the first time in a year for a family wedding. It was a week that can be summed up by saying life sometimes passes faster than we can appreciate it. One day, I’m in tears as my youngest is graduating from high school (my baby boy is grown up!) and the next day we’re up before the dawn to fly west. And we left our graduate with his brother, hoping they would eat something nutritious, wash a few dishes, feed the cats, and keep the house in some condition that we might recognize when we returned.

Flying is something I’m a little reluctant about. As an engineer, I usually know how things work. In fact, in many cases, I know the equations and have run the calculations. I can figure out how much to bank a curve for 60 mph. I had to figure out the forces in each member of a truss bridge. I can figure out how big to make a drain pipe.

But I never learned the equations for flight, so I always worry: How does it stay up in the air? I know all about the velocity vectors and how to calculate the arc of a baseball traveling 90 mph and leaving the bat at an angle of 90 degrees. But the baseball soon falls to the ground, while a place stays up there for hours.

I’ve heard about “lift” and somehow the forward velocity of the plane combined with the wing angle actually causes it to go up despite the relentless pull of gravity that brings all things down to earth, eventually.

So, on takeoff, particularly, I’m imaging all these velocity vectors and force diagrams and I'm rooting with all my strength that the “lift” term in the equation wins out of the force of gravity. (Otherwise it would be a very short flight!)

But this is why I prefer to drive or take the train: I know the equations and I know how it works!

Despite my uneasiness, I must say that flight is one of the great marvels of human accomplishment. To be able to soar above the clouds and gaze down at the earth 30,000 or 40,000 feet (0.9 to 1.3 km) below! To see towering, fluffy clouds from above! To see amazing sunsets or sunrises appearing in elongated landscape format! How inspirational it must be for artists.

No sooner than a day later, I was at the Georgia O’Keeffe Museum in Santa Fe. And there on exhibit was her Sky Above Clouds III/Above the Clouds III (1963). There is that unique view of the dusky horizon. And what a creative presentation of cloud tops, appearing like white lily pads clustered on a broad pond. The view is almost other-worldly. More about Georgia O’Keeffe in another post!

One Mom's Alternative to the Minivan!

This mom and her customized bicycle caught my eye during the spring city bike ride. Every year here in Cambridge we have a city bike ride in May as part of Bike Week. It's a great chance for riders of all abilities to enjoy a ride around the city.

"One less minivan" was the rear plate on this mom's bike. It featured two seats suitable for young children (although it appeared only one child was riding today) The bike also have attachments for bags, water bottles, and other items. Plus headlights and rear lights.

She's saving on the cost of gas, has less problems finding parking spaces, and is not polluting with car fumes. Now, not every mom can ditch her minivan or SUV and take to the road with a multi-passenger bicycle. But, still, I had to admire this mom and her alternative to the minivan!