Bookish (the Blog)

No Country for Self-Driving Bicycles

Bookish (the Blog) nature, self-driving bicycle

On the bicycle path, Summer 2019

Mile 14

In the fall of 2018, I won a day’s free bicycle rental in a raffle sponsored by our local park district. Excited at actually having won something, I visited our local bike shop to claim my prize and climbed on a bike for, I’m guessing, the first time in 30 years. After a few wobbly turns around the parking lot, I found my stride, and by the end of the day the bike and I were inseparable.

No one, to the best of my knowledge, is predicting a future of self-driving bikes, that is bikes programmed to head for a specific destination, with our human role only to get on board and peddle. That mentality won’t work. The freedom to choose the round-about-route or to have no particular destination in mind at all, to change directions on a whim, to stop and start, to explore along the way is what biking has been for me this summer.

Field Corn

Where I live in the Midwest, we’re lucky to have an old inter-urban railroad track which has been converted into a 20-mile long bike trail. It runs between farmer’s fields planted to corn and soybeans, past a couple of truck stops and the local speedway. Ground squirrels pop up out of burrows they’ve dug in the gravel, rabbits scatter in front of my bike, and this morning a mink crossed in front of me and disappeared in the underbrush.

Scenes along the bike path, Modern farm buildings

Cell towers are very common additions to farms

It’s not all farms…

Draining the fields

County Road

Magic in a Clump of Cattails

Bookish (the Blog) nature

Above: Cattails along the edge of the pond, October 21, 2016

Reflections, November 27, 2016

Familiar places can be magical sometimes. For me, yesterday (2/21/2017) the familiar place turned magical was a clump of cattails on the edge of the pond in the forest preserve. The pond itself is a quiet, beautiful spot, where there is always something to see at any season of the year.

In summer, the pond’s edge is alive with frogs that kerplunk into the water as I go past. Although I’ve tried, I’ve never been fast enough with my camera to catch a frog in a photo. I’ve had better luck with herons. (Addendum–see frog photo below!)

Heron, October 12, 2015

In winter, the pond is ice-covered.

Cattails, January 21, 2015

Cattails, January 3, 2017

December 26, 2017

Ice on the pond, Dec. 26, 2017. It was minus 6 degrees during the night

Cattail Seeds, Dec. 21, 2017

A couple of years ago, the cattail clump held a surprise for me. The snake photo dates from May 4, 2015. I’m no wildlife photographer, so you have to use your imagination to see the hidden snake. But I stood entranced watching it from just a few feet away. We didn’t have big snakes like that in Seattle, where I grew up. The Illinois Department of Natural Resources has an informative identification website, and looking through the photos there, I’ll guess “my” snake was a northern water snake, but whatever its name, it was a treat to see.

Water Snake, May 4, 2015

Grass disturbed by muskrats, February 21, 2017

Yesterday (2/21/2017), the same cattail clump was again showing me its magic. As I approached, my impression was that the cattails looked rather “end-of-winter” ratty. The grass several feet out from the bank was trampled revealing dark muddy soil underneath. I thought the damage was caused by people or maybe by the Canadian geese. Then I spotted a muskrat! I’d never seen one up close before. There were actually two muskrats, and they put on quite a show, diving in and out of the cattails, and periodically running out on the bank for a nibble of grass.

The muskrats made magic in my day.

Muskrat, February 21, 2017

Frog

A frog in the cattails, May 31, 2017

The muskrat, taking a swim in the creek, February 23, 2017

Tadpoles in the pond, April 28, 2017. I recorded a short piece about tadpoles for the 49th volume of the short nonfiction collection.

Learning to Draw, Line by Line

Bookish (the Blog) drawing, painting, sketching

Above: Sketch, Old Factory

Bronze kelp sculpture, Edmonds, WA waterfront

June 4, 2019

As I’ve detailed elsewhere in my blog, when I officially “retired” back in 2003–my retirement wish was to learn to draw. At best it might be said that I’ve “circled” this goal by dabbling in oil paints, and recently, watercolors. But being able to put marks on paper that resembled a scene or an identifiable object eluded me.

However, lately I’ve made some progress. And I thought it might be interesting to record how this came about. It started in 2017 with me standing in front of a bookcase in a Seattle nursing home. My mom, then 107 years old, was a resident in this home and a few days away from dying, and the nursing home administrator and myself were confronting my mom’s bookcase. “Don’t you want some of Mary’s books,” the administrator asked me, as I stared at titles like “The Five Little Peppers and How They Grew,” “Pollyanna” and “Engineering Drawing (1911, revised 1918).” I silently asked myself why had my mother dragged these kid’s books and my dad’s college text books from the 1920’s around with her all these years? I finally settled for one book: Engineering Drawing. Not that I was interested in engineering, but the word “drawing” in the title intrigued me.

Back home in Illinois, I opened my book. My dad had bought it used, and the original owner’s name was still inside the cover (Merlin Hanan). Merlin had written down directions to the U. of Washington Engineering building (take the 1st rt. Good Roads Bldg.) My dad had dutifully added his name, address, phone number and the price he paid for the book ($2.20), as well as his grade for Civil Engineering I (a “B”). He’d left his grade for C.E. 2 blank.

The book opened flat of it’s own accord to page 30, the section on pen and ink technique, and the author, Thomas E. French, M.E. intoned “If inked lines appear imperfect in any way the reason should be ascertained immediately. It may be the fault of the pen, the ink, the paper, or the draftsman, but with the probabilities greatly in favor of the last.” Figure 47 illustrated faulty lines.

Well, drawing lines is certainly easier today, with today’s fine-line markers, than it was back in the 1920’s, I said to myself. Encouraged, I read further. Ch. IX dealt with drawing “Bolts, Screws, Rivets and Pipe.”Here was all the information I needed for drawing bolts and screw threads; hmm…

I delved deeper, and discovered a chapter on “Shade Lines and Line Shading.” Now this was useful information, how to make pipes look curved and spheres shaded with just inked lines strategically placed. I began to feel friendly toward my dad’s old book.

Fast forward to another book, one that I discovered in our public library: Freehand Sketching, An Introduction by Paul Laseau (W. W. Norton, 2004). Laseau is an architect, and his small book is a clear, structured, step-by-step guide to pen-and-ink sketching.” It’s a book I highly recommend. My pen and ink sketches are inspired by my dad’s engineering text and were created following the exercises and tips in Laseau’s book.

Local

By popular vote.

Fort Reno, Oklahoma Territory, 1892, and an Autograph Book

Bookish (the Blog) American West, women

Above, Gertrude Reuter’s autograph book 1892-1896

Gertrude, age 22 (1896)

At noon On April 19, 1892, the thunder of a cannon announced to the twenty-five thousand land-hungry “boomers” lined up at Fort Reno, Oklahoma Territory, that the race was on for parcels of free land on the former Cheyenne and Arapaho Indian reservation. My mother’s mother was one of the many Germans there that day. I know this because she had with her an autograph book, inscribed Gertrude Reuter, Fort Reno, Indian Territory, April 5, 1892. Gertrude had just recently arrived from Bremen, Germany, with her sister Emma. It would seem she came with a group of other young people, perhaps led by a pastor. She was unmarried, only 17 years old, and what, exactly, she expected to accomplish out there in Indian Territory, I have no way of knowing. My frustration at this unknowing is shared, I’m sure, by many of us who never talked to our immigrant grandparents about their early experiences in the United States.

Lettering G. Reuter

Frontispiece

I do know that Gertrude liked to collect autographs. There are two especially interesting ones from Fort Reno soldiers. “To my Friend Gertrude, I am ever your Friend, Joseph M. Wusthoff, Band 5th U.S. Cav.,” dated April 12, 1892, is one of them. Wusthoff penned, in addition to his signature, a two page, maudlin poem, written in a tight hand:

“Oh the love of that Heart forever
Shines over our life like sun
And makes us forget earthly losses
In the light of a Heaven won.
As grey mists rise up from the meadows
In the dawn of a summer day
In the love of that Heart our sorrows depart
And our trials and cares fade away.”

William Rider, also a member of the band, was more laconic in his entry, dated May 30, 1892:

William rider signature Gertrude liked singing hymns, evidenced by references in her autograph book. Perhaps the band played concerts that she attended; or perhaps there was some mild flirtation going on.

Gertrude collected some 50 autographs. Almost all of them have the date and place where they were signed, but few give any hint of what was going on in Gertrude’s life. The entries, some in English, others in German, are mostly sentimental and religious. The dates and places, therefore, have to carry my imagination along.

Entry in German

The 1892 land venture must not have worked out, because the last 1892 entry from Fort Reno is dated June 23. By the 14th of July, 1892, Gertrude was in Evanston, Illinois. From Illinois, in a most telling move, she next went to Ocean City, Maryland. Ocean City was then, and still is, a resort town with a long stretch of sandy beach, facing out on the Atlantic Ocean. Here, on July 25, 1892, Gertrude wrote a page in the autograph book herself. Quoting poetry and hymns she must have known by heart, Gertrude unburdened herself:

Ocean City Poems

Oh! Many a shaft at random sent
Finds marks the archer little meant,
And many a word at random spoken
May soothe or wound a heart that’s broken.*

What is Friendship but a name
A charm that lulls to sleep
A shade that follows wealth or fame
But leaves the wretch to weep?**

My heart is like the ocean
With storm and ebb and flow
But many a costly pearl
Lies hidden in the depths below.***

Though Satan should buffet
Though trials should come
Let this blessed assurance control
That Christ hath regarded my helpless estate
And has shed his own blood for my soul.****

When temptations almost win thee
And thy trusted watchers fly
Let this promise ring within thee
I will guide thee with mine eye.*****

Across the lengthwise of the page, Gertrude added “I will never leave thee or forsake thee.” Whether this promise was directed at person, place, or faith, I do not know.

By October 1892, Gertrude had left Ocean City and traveled to Washington D.C. In January, 1893, she was again headed West, stopping in Atchison, Kansas, and going once more on to Fort Reno in April of that year. In 1894-1896, she backtracked to Ottawa, Kansas, where she attended college. Several of the autograph signers there say “your fellow student.” The entries leave off in 1896, while she is still in Ottawa. but by 1898, she was married and living in Washington State. A lot of travels for one so young!

As to the fate of the group of young people with whom Gertrude had originally gone West, there is evidence that they scattered. along the way. This entry in the autograph book tells that story [note, all the towns mentioned are in Kansas].

December 24, 1894:
Ottawa via Wellington [Kansas].

With one dozen we gladly started.
But at Garnett we sadly parted.
We again started on our solemn way
And continued on our most innocent play.
When Darnell left us he looked pale.
While three more left us at Cherryvale.
After we had left Moline,
Another one could not be seen.
And when at Burden two more said goodbye.
Nothing could keep us from wanting to cry.
Then at Winfield when we left Reese.
Our troubles changed to perfect peace.
E. L. Avery.

A note on the poems: Gertrude did not indicate any provenance for the stanzas which she strung together into a single train of thought, but I have tracked them down and list them below.

* “Lord of the Isles,” Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832)

** “Edwin and Angela, a Ballad,” Oliver Goldsmith (1730-1744)

*** “Homeward Bound,” Heinrich Heine (1797-1856)

**** “It is Well With My Soul,” Horatio Spafford (1828-1888)

***** “I Will Guide Thee with Mine Eye,” Nathaniel Niles (1835-1917)

Books we keep!

Gertrude entrusted me with several of her favorite books when I was a teenager. I have recorded one of them, The Friendly Road, New Adventures in Contentment, which she received as a Christmas present in 1919.

Egg-Shaped Stone with Crack

Bookish (the Blog) nature, poetry

Above: Soybean field, my photo, October 4, 2020

October 5, 2020

THE EGG-SHAPED STONE WITH CRACK

My feet planted either side
of a row of soybeans
I stand in the field awaiting harvest
In cold early October sun.

Long sight lines of withered stalks
Remind me of Arlington
Saying I don’t belong here.

But I’ve come looking.

For stones.

I’ve wondered all summer
What the soybeans were hiding
Their ownership of the field
Too dense to penetrate.

But now… well, it’s me, and the stones.
I’m not talking about ownership.
Just the visible.

A glacier covered this Illinois field once,
And left behind stones.
Colored stones from different places.
Like Minnesota…
That stone was half red, half black, one side magnetic, the other not,
Jasper and iron ore.

What will I find today?
I found a egg shaped stone with a crack
That just fits the palm of my hand
And gives me something to hold onto
As I walk on.

(Sue Anderson)

Some other blog posts:

What comes first on the to-do list?

Crouching Leaf

The 10-mph entrance road

Crouching Leaf

Bookish (the Blog) nature, painting, poetry

Above: Fallen oak leaf on bridge railing, October 28, 2018

Crouching Leaf
You fell
But not all the way
You landed on the ledge.

November 2, 2018

November 1, 2018

November 4, 2018

Above, a few of my daily paintings and a meditation from the bridge in the forest preserve. For more about the bridge, you might enjoy these posts:

Icebergs and Feathers

The Circular Snare

Remaining Curious or Spider Web Graphics

Photo of upside down citrus juicer on needlepoint pillow

Citrus Juicer Inspiration

Bookish (the Blog) painting

Above: Citrus juicer photographed upside down on needlepoint

January 25, 2019

Orange peels and
A glass citrus juicer.

It’s minus 12 degrees this morning.
Eight inches of snow
Lie crusted
Each side of the path
I’ve shoveled front door to garage

To venture out
Or stay at home?

Outside inspiration
turns inward
in January.

This past Christmas (2018), my present to myself was a set of water color paints, a medium I’d admired from afar, but never had the guts to try myself. A few days before Christmas, I’d turned 78 years old, so what exactly was I waiting for to try something new? Who knows? What follows is a record of what my subsequent inspirations.

watercolor painting

How to begin? My bent is toward abstraction, but I definitely felt the need to keep things “simple” to begin with. What I’d always liked about watercolor was its feel of stained glass, like Tiffany glass on paper. So I said to myself “why not try painting stained glass?” This thought brought to mind a favorite stained glass website that I have bookmarked on my computer: Daniel Maher Stained Glass. Maher creates stunning windows from recycled dishes, bottles, and other glass objects with color and reflectivity. His “Housewares-Graveyard” windows are just wonderful!

Which brought me to the idea of a “painting in reverse.” I could create a “window of found objects” by drawing the outlines of an assortment of household objects on paper and then filling in the outlines as if they were a window of stained glass. The painting above was the result of this experiment.

By the next day, I was off and running with my idea. I arranged the morning’s breakfast orange peels on paper, and painted two versions of orange peels as stained glass.

Watercolor of orange peels in blue and green

Citrus in Blue

You can now bookmark my website on your phone with a new (and my first and only) favicon, a snippet from Citrus in Blue! Check it out on your phone!

Then came my inspiration about the orange juicer. I turned the juicer upside down on top of one of my needlepoint pillows (needlepoint is a long-standing hobby of mine; this particular pillow dates from 2009) and aimed my camera at the refracted light. The results: my “stained glass” citrus juicer is shown at the top of the page.

Spring will come; it always does.

Cat and Dancing Dog (Watercolors #3)

Bookish (the Blog) painting

Above: Odd and Ends of Leftover Paint Tell a Story

My first experiment with watercolors was made in December 2018. In March (2019) I decided to try to paint a “real picture” instead of just abstracts. I settled on the old barn in our local forest preserve, the first building I’d ever tried painting! Well, it was a challenge. I took a photo, cropped the view in Photoshop to fit the paper (6″ x 9″), traced the outline of the barn, and tried for patience in the painting process, something which I am generally sadly lacking. My barn slants a bit, but whose to mind?

March 13, 2019

When I was finished with the barn, I had little bowls of color that seemed too good to waste. I dumped and spattered them with abandon on a scrap of paper, a 30-second abstract. The paint ran and puddled on its own terms, and suddenly I realized it was turning into a dancing dog. Fascinating! When the paint dried, I looked again, and now I saw another creature–maybe a small yapping dog (?) or. as I decided, an orange cat!

1931-2020

Bookish (the Blog) nature, poetry

Above: Concrete post with date 1931, my photo, October 25, 2020

1931-2020

Up till now
I’d seen the plinth
As long ago
An untutored farmer’s try
At elegant entry
To his barnyard
Concrete imitating marble.

Gone rustic now
With vines and weeds
And rusty pipe attachments
At the entrance to the county park.

Part of the landscape,
Nothing more.

Until this morning.
When I saw the date
Pressed in the concrete.
1931.

It was the clear October light
And vines frost dead
That revealed the numbers.
The awkward “9” and two-hills “3”
flanked by sturdy “ones” with serif tops

Dates, associations, tumbled in my mind,
1932, my parents married
1941, my husband born.

What was the farmer thinking
That year of Great Depression
When he inscribed his concrete post
1931?

What will I think of this year,
2020,
When I look back?

Sue Anderson,
October 25, 2020

The 10 mph Entrance Road

Bookish (the Blog) John Constable, nature, painting, poetry

Above: The entrance road, before and after

Most people probably feel, at one time or another, a jolt of connection with a painting by one of the masters, as perhaps to Van Gogh’s “Starry Night” or, as was recently my case, to a scene painted by British landscape artist, John Constable entitled “Hampstead Heath, with figures round a bonfire” (ca. 1822) This painting resonated with me because this past March (2018) I had photographed, and subsequently painted a picture of, a bonfire in our local forest preserve, and the open air fire in my photograph bore an eerie resemblance to the bonfire in Constable’s painting.

John Constable, Bonfire (ca 1822)

Illinois, Bonfire, March 2018

I have no idea what emotions prompted Constable to paint his picture, but I do know the regrets that prompted my photograph. Such is life, But after seeing Constable’s painting, I decided to tell the story of my photograph and my painting. It begins with an entrance road with a 10 mph speed limit.

The 10 mph Entrance Road

Not native
Besides, they’re old
Reasons given
For chopping down the trees
That lined the pasture road
When it ceased to lead
To the retreat house
Which had morphed into a Nature Center
With a blacktop entrance drive.

The trees were burned
Over their severed roots
On that desolate pasture road
On a cold March day 2018
With snow for shroud.

I was out walking when I came upon the fire.
I stopped and photographed the trees
As witness to their cremation
I felt anger, helplessness, betrayal
Standing at the edge of the field
watching.

But there was nothing I could do.
And, in my acceptance, I saw beauty
In the flames
And in the smoke
Wind blown
Rising into the sky.

November 23, 2018

The old entrance road trees

The road came into the jurisdiction of our local forest preserve district a few years ago, when they acquired a parcel of land that had once been an estate and later a chapter house for a group of nuns. There was a substantial house on the property, which the forest preserve decided to remodel and make into a Nature Center, a laudable and creative use for the dwelling. The house sat back from the county road about four-tenths of a mile, and the only way to reach it was by a dirt track shaded by various old and neglected trees – crab apples, junipers, firs, pines, and others planted in matching pairs on either side of the track.

The Nature Center, obviously, needed improved access and the county put in an attractive curved blacktop. This left the old entrance road as a quiet walk, frequented by dog walkers and strollers like myself who enjoyed the apple blossoms, the bird life, the shade, and the history that came with the trees.

When I heard from one of the ground crew, that they were scheduled to cut down the old trees, I was incensed. I wrote a protest letter to the powers that be, but it didn’t change the county’s resolve. The trees were not native species and besides they were old. They were scheduled to go. Knowing they were doomed, I took some pictures for myself and put them in a photo album.

Even thus forewarned, I was not prepared for the devastation I felt when the trees were cut down, the raw logs piled and burned–on a cold winter day, with snow on the ground. I did not approve of the destruction then; I still do not. I felt a very strong need to memorialize, to give testimony to the trees somehow. I went home and painted a picture of the fire and the smoke trailing into the blue.

Bonfire, March 10, 2018