Monday, December 31, 2018

Last Day Hike - Ring Out the Old

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.
~ Alfred Tennyson, In Memoriam 

I intend to walk every day in the new year. And I believe it is best to start now. If I leave it for tomorrow, I'll keep procrastinating. So DH (yes, he is still here!) and I fell out early today for a walk in the parks*. A storm front blew through yesterday leaving pools of water and dripping foliage throughout. The birds were on the move and I caught what I could despite the husband and dog walking ahead of me.

DH and Zelda (sometimes she looks back to see what's keeping me.
The peace of the morning was broken by the church bells, bird song, and occasional "good morning" greeting as we walked along the steady rush of muddy water of the creek. The creek was up and fast. The storm ruined the morning for the few fishermen we saw. We watched one after another give up. A father and son began tossing sticks into the water to watch them move downstream.

The squirrels were out distracting Zelda. DH let her give chase a couple of times (so she's "out cold" as I review the photos of the hike), but no squirrels were caught or injured. A few ch-ch-ch-ched at us as we moved on down the path.

Cheeky little squirrel watching us.
We had heard one Red-shouldered Hawk as we exited the car, but it tends to stay in some Live Oaks making it almost impossible to see. But then it moved down towards the creek. We continued on our walk, but I turned to see if the hawk had moved again and watched a second perch just opposite the first. I had heard that Red-shouldered Hawks like to hunt in pairs. I had enjoyed watching the two juveniles nearby. I had heard three hawks calling from both sides of the creek. But this was the first time I'd seen any "together" since one of the juveniles disappeared at the end of the summer.

I noted the hawk on the power pole and tried to get a photo.
It flew away and perched on a tree closer to the creek.
I managed a silhouette. Morning light can be tricky.
But the other side was tricky.
As I gave up and started to walk away, I saw another RSH fly into the tree, just to the left of the first one.
This hawk was easier to photograph.
The morning light made that chest almost glow.
And from this angle I was able to get a better shot of the first hawk.
Hawks can turn at least 180 degrees.
I waited, hoping the hawks would swoop down for breakfast. I gave up and caught up with DH and Zelda after taking one last shot.

So here is the rest of we saw this morning:

It's some kind of maple.
Carolina Chickadee
At the edge of Harris Community Park the neighbors have posted signs. This tree often has exotic species in its branches. Today there was only a White-winged Dove.

Eastern Bluebird
Henbit Deadnettle
European Starlings whistle and squawk near the church.
White-winged Dove
Eastern Bluebird
Great Blue Heron on the far bank at the Second Avenue Bridge
The GBH came out of the shadows and showed off a bit.

Blue-headed Vireo
Mexican Buckeyes - I was looking for some seed pods with rain dripping off of them.
Chinaberry
A little warbler flits around the Second Avenue Bridge. I thought it might be a kinglet. The experts say Orange-crowned Warbler.
Orange-crowned Warbler it may be. But I just see little brown bird...until the camera brings it close enough for me to see it is really greenish.
No mistaking the Blue Jay.
Northern Mockingbird
Grackle
Yellow-rumped Warbler found breakfast.

There were other birds, but these were the most unusual and the best of the photos. Every day in the park is a gift.


NOTE:

*We start in Harris Community Park, move through Yettie Polk Park, and finish at Confederate Park.
 

Wednesday, December 26, 2018

Happy Christmas in the Park (and on St. Stephen's Day as Well)

          Who was St. Stephen, and what does he have to do with Christmas, or Christians? Stephen was the faith’s first martyr, slain for suggesting, among other things, that God was not to be found in the temple, or in any dwelling made by human hands.

          As a Christian, I can promise you I fall short in lots of ways, especially in my consistent failure to treat other people with the love and grace they deserve. But on the issue of the temple, St. Stephen and I are of one mind. Most of the times that I’ve experienced the eternal are times when I was not sitting in an actual church.

          Jennifer Finney Boyland,  from 'Twas the Day After Christmas

These parks are church. We gather with others to enjoy the wind and the rain, the birds and the creek, the squirrels (yes, even the squirrels) and the park cats...and so much more. We gather to give thanks for all of it - for the silly ducks and the generous dedicated people who make sure they are fed. I sing of the caretakers - city workers (who make fallen limbs disappear almost over-night) and volunteers who pick up trash. I pass the peace to the runners and walkers, the strollers and the nut-gatherers. We are an odd community. But we are a community.

Peace.






Post Script:  5-29-19 I'm looking over all the drafts I have failed to post. Some are just titles I liked. Some are poems or song lyrics I love. Many will be deleted. This one probably wanted more photos, but it is not getting any. It is going to be posted as it, with this little "PS."

I spoke with my sister in the last couple of days. We talked about what we say when people ask our religion. We don't always answer what denomination we identify with...but we do share that we worship God in the wild.

I love these parks.

[Also, do check out the music referenced below. Songs from my young adulthood. Happy Christmas in almost June. Happy St. Stephen's Day a little late.]

"Joy, health, love, and peace be all here in this place"



NOTES:

*A little about Boxing Day/St. Stephen's Day with music https://www.nytimes.com/2018/12/25/opinion/boxing-day-origins.html?action=click&contentCollection=opinion&region=rank&module=package&version=highlights&contentPlacement=3&pgtype=sectionfront

The Chieftans -- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MyA1zKBUhxM

Steeleye Span -- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C_4lhU6q46Y


Sunday, December 23, 2018

Atonement? Not Really. But a Toast to a Good Man

This carol they began that hour,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
How that life was but a flower
In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding:
Sweet lovers love the spring.

~ William Shakespeare,  from As You Like It

It has a tiny chip and says "England" on the bottom. I keep it in a cabinet of other memories.

It's Christmas time. Like other families we gather and eat. We visit old friends, tell stories, and play games. I apparently confess misdemeanors from long ago.

YC's fiance has a PhD in English. He specializes in Shakespeare (I'm sure there is other appropriate terminology for this, but I have not slept). So I told a little story about my college English experience.

One of my college roommates* and I took Shakespeare classes (yeah, 2 of them) together. She was an English major. I didn't have to take any additional English thanks to Dorothy Niemann (my high school senior English teacher), but I missed being in an English class and had a slew of open electives to take. I had always enjoyed Shakespeare and figured it would be fun.

We took the classes with Brother Louis Schuster. Schuster was a legend. A world traveler and talented artist, we found him fascinating and participated fully in the class. He taught Shakespeare as an actor, performing the works. Students were required to  prepare a "recitation" as one grade. MM and I chose to sing.**

Anyway, during our second class Schuster had a heart attack (we wrote a sonnet and somehow got to the hospital where we delivered it to the man - he inspired that kind of loyalty). And, because Louie couldn't finish out the semester, Dr. Andrew James (Jim) Magill took over the class.

He was decidedly a different, more traditional professor. I remember our class was in a basement in one of the oldest buildings of the school. Dr. Magill often had the ink-stained pocket of a distracted academic. An exotic (to us) transplant from Ireland (born in Belfast), he also had a wonderful Irish accent and curly auburn hair.

And I stole his tea mug. [I still have it.]

"You stole his mug?" asked YC (with that disappointed/surprised voice grown children can sometimes use on their parents - a payback sort of thing since they learned that tone from us).

Well, I stole someone's mug.

I spent a good deal of time walking around the campus when I was in college. I had no idea what I planned to do when I got out of the place. I was pretty naive. All I really knew was that I was not going to work at the Dairy Queen*** if I could find something else I could do. So I wandered - academically and physically.

Anyway, one afternoon I spied a Cornishware**** mug that had been left on a bench in the quadrangle. No one was anywhere around. The mug was abandoned (lonely one might say). So I took it back to the dorm, washed it, and used it. I didn't realize it was Dr. Magill's mug until much later when I observed this style of pottery in the stores in Ireland. It is utilitarian stuff that chips up pretty easily and thus become collectible. Because it is an "Irish" thing, who else but Magill would have owned this mug?

After the kids went home today I looked Dr. Magill up in my yearbook. You see, I stole his mug, but I forgot his name (look, I'm getting old). I knew him immediately when I saw the photo and read his name. Then I Googled him.

Dr. Magill died in 2014. I read his obituary. I knew him as a serious professor and an intellectual. His obituary disclosed he was quite an accomplished fellow both academically and personally. He was a good man. He was the kind of person you realize you wish you had known better.

So, here's to you, Jim Magill. I will toast you tonight - a little Irish whiskey in your teacup. May you be long remembered.


Here is a photo and his obituary from the San Antonio Express-News:

Dr. Andrew James Magill

March 27, 1929 - September 5, 2014
Andrew James (Jim) Magill, Ph.D., 85, of San Antonio, TX, died at home on Friday, September 5th, 2014. He was born March 27, 1929 in Belfast, Northern Ireland, to parents James and Catherine Magill. Jim graduated from St. Patrick's Teacher Training College, Dublin, Ireland, and received an M.A. from the University of Windsor, Ontario, and a Ph.D. from the University of Texas, Austin. He was a professor at St. Mary's University, San Antonio, where he taught English Renaissance Literature for over thirty years. Before that, Jim taught at the University of Delaware, Newark; Seattle University, Washington; Xavier Junior College, Cape Breton, Nova Scotia; and the University of Windsor, Ontario. Jim will be remembered as a highly intelligent, unselfish, kind, generous, humble, and content man, who loved his family and friends, daily walks, books, and cat. His children will be forever grateful for the care he took in raising them as a single parent. He was delighted to spend time with his newborn grandson, his namesake, for the last four months of his life. He did not hesitate to speak up for the under-represented, or to defend those who he felt had been wronged. Jim was a member of the ACLU, NAACP, National Urban League, Southern Poverty Law Center, Amnesty International, Anti-Defamation League, National Jewish Congress, and Palestine Children's Relief Fund, as well as MENSA. Jim was preceded in death by his parents; sisters, Molly O'Dea, Sr. Catherine (Kitty) Magill, Sr. Peggy Magill, and Veronica Sheehan; and brother Dan Mac Guill. He is survived by his son, Andrew B. Magill; daughter, Sarah Magill McLornan and husband Paul; grandson, Andrew James McLornan; sister, Eilis Donnelly; and brothers, Bro. Art Magill and Oliver Magill.

This is the guy I remember (from the Diamondback, 1974):

Same smile.











NOTES:

*I had a number of roommates. Apparently I am difficult to live with. MM sang at my wedding and we are still in touch - had coffee last week.

**Okay, MM decided to sing and generously included me in the plan. She is a musician, linguist and more. I always feel a little untalented in her presence. We practiced the music for days, singing as we hiked across the campus of St. Mary's University in San Antonio.

We sounded just like this! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eePvx9LPXYU

The versions you can find are Shakespeare's words set to music by Thomas Morley as described by Brian Robins thus -- The quintessential Shakespeare song, "It was a lover and his lass" first appeared in Thomas Morley's First Book of Ayres or Little Short Songs; to sing and play to the Lute with the Base Viol, published in 1600. The song comes from Act Five, Scene Three of As You Like It, where it is sung by the two pages, apparently not to the satisfaction of its auditor Touchstone, who afterwards expresses the hope that "God will mend their voices." It seems possible that Morley and Shakespeare may have had direct contact, although there is no direct evidence to support such a claim. Although it has since been set by a number of other composers, none have captured the same evocative feel of the song, which remains one of the most famous and popular settings of a Shakespeare song.

Yeah, you know I just sang the "Hey ding a ding a ding" portion.  I did not sing today as YC shamed me out of it.

***It was my first job. I'm sure it's been mentioned before. I think I wasn't the best waitress, but I was polite and I showed up.

****https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cornishware

 
I am content to follow to its source
Every event in action or in thought;
Measure the lot; forgive myself the lot!
When such as I cast out remorse
So great a sweetness flows into the breast
We must laugh and we must sing,
We are blest by everything,
Everything we look upon is blest.

~ W. B. Yeats, from A Dialogue of Self and Soul

Saturday, December 1, 2018

The Best of the Color (Missed it by This Much)

I was drinking in the surroundings: 
air so crisp you could snap it with your fingers 
and greens in every lush shade imaginable 
offset by autumnal flashes of red and yellow. 
~Wendy Delsol, Stork

No, it wasn't this bad. There was some color left. But this photo only worked in black and white.
We hiked at the upper part of Miller Springs last week - me without a camera - so we had to come back. It was probably too early in the morning - with such bright sunshine, but it was the opportunity we had.
So we went back to try and capture some of the amazing color.
But we found we had missed most of it...the reds dulling in a week.
There are a few trails we will have to try on future walks. But the lower parts are flooded and hard to access.



The red oaks were particularly bright - Shumard Oaks, perhaps?
Possumhaw red berries
The reds were a little brighter. And some trees had dropped their leaves in the wind, rain, and cold of an intervening front.
Still, the valley was hanging on to some color.
It's called the Tennessee Valley, much of which is now under the lake.* These views are of the valley...
While behind the photographer is the flat limestone spillway for the dam. This limestone shelf reminds me of the limestone pavement of the Burren** (although those are more weathered).
A little of the boardwalk remains. I hope there will be a commitment to a new boardwalk for accessibility for all.
The nightshades are well-represented, both Buffalobur (here) and Silver-leaf.
Little blooms this late in the fall - Goldeneye?


We stopped here and I snapped this view as a reminder to wear good boots to avoid sore feet from the rough and irregular trails.
What might live here?
There is a debate about what this might be. I thought it was tyevine, but there was a suggestion that it might be Pearl Milkweed. I suppose I will have to come back and see.

DH will stand at the edge of the cliff. I will not.
I wonder if some of these are repeats. Whatever.
The berries are drawing a few birds as are the dead trees.
I've seen a few of these Red-bellied Woodpeckers over the last few days. This one did not cooperate.
A final shot as we headed to the car.
  
NOTES:


* According to the Texas State Historical Association: TENNESSEE VALLEY, TEXAS. Tennessee Valley was on the Leon River five miles northwest of Belton in northwestern Bell County. The community was founded in 1851 by a party of settlers who originated in the Tennessee valley and named the new settlement for their former home. The Tennessee Valley school had some seventy-two pupils in 1896. There was a commercial pecan orchard at Tennessee Valley in the 1920s, and in 1948 the community had two churches and two businesses. In the mid-1950s the site of the community was inundated by Lake Belton.

** http://www.clarelibrary.ie/eolas/coclare/places/the_burren/burren_geology.htm