Tag: Wandering

  • Groundhog Day: Punxsutawney Phil Foresees More Winter

    Groundhog Day: Punxsutawney Phil Foresees More Winter

    Groundhog Day (Illustration: Geo Davis via Ralph Katieb, Unsplash, Snapseed, Waterlogue)
    Groundhog Day, Shadowy (Illustration: Geo Davis via Ralph Katieb, Unsplash, Snapseed, Waterlogue)

    Did Punxsutawney Phil see his shadow? Is spring around the corner? Are we headed into six more weeks of winter?

    In this high tech era of satellites forecasting weather from beyond the beyond, intricate algorithms gobbling gargantuan data sets, and media channels dedicated to analyzing and communicating meteorological mysteries in real time, we still get excited on February 2 to see how a groundhog will react to brisk midwinter conditions. It’s folksy fun, I suppose. Maybe a result of cabin fever…

    Today the furry fellow decided it was wiser to double down on hibernation. Spring’s still a long way off, at least in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania.

    Groundhog Day (Illustration: Geo Davis via Ralph Katieb, Unsplash, Snapseed, Waterlogue)
    Groundhog Day, Less Shadowy (Illustration: Geo Davis via Ralph Katieb, Unsplash, Snapseed, Waterlogue)

    Groundhog Day Haiku

    To be sure, Essex isn’t exactly tropical compared to Punxsutawney, so a belated de-wintering would seem inevitable based upon this morning’s proceedings. But, I’m pro-spring, even if that puts me in disagreement with Phil.

    Unlike the groundhog,
    fur ruffed against shadowed chill,
    I suspect springtime.

    I love springtime almost as much as I love morning, and for similar reasons. So much possibility in both reawakenings!

    And who’s to say that haiku poetry is any less indicative of spring’s arrival than a groundhog coddled by top hatted members of the Punxsutawney Groundhog Club gathering at Gobbler’s Knob? Not I. (Which begs the question, what *else* do marmots and micropoems have in common?)

    Groundhog Day (Illustration: Geo Davis via Ralph Katieb, Unsplash, Snapseed, Waterlogue)
    Groundhog Day, Even Less Shadowy (Illustration: Geo Davis via Ralph Katieb, Unsplash, Snapseed, Waterlogue)

    Punxsutawney’s Meteorological Marmot

    What to make of an annual tradition centering around a groundhog venturing out of hibernation to prognosticate on the coming season? Let’s dig into the legend of Punxsutawney Phil.

    Each February 2, on Groundhog Day, the members of the Punxsutawney Groundhog Club make the pilgrimage to Gobbler’s Knob, Phil’s official home.

    The group waits for Phil to leave his burrow and, legend has it, if he sees his shadow we’re in for six more weeks of winter. If he doesn’t, we get to bask in an early spring.

    Scientifically speaking, winter will officially come to an end on the equinox on March 20, regardless of what Phil predicts. But Mother Nature doesn’t always follow the timetable, and neither does Phil.

    Though Phil has no meteorology degree, every year the United States tunes in for his prediction.

    Phil’s track record is not perfect. “On average, Phil has gotten it right 40% of the time over the past 10 years,” according to the National Centers for Environmental Information, a division of the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration… (Source: CNN)

    So, the meteorological marmot’s not the best indicator of whether or not winter will yield early/late to spring.

    This year marks the third straight year the groundhog spotted his shadow, something that he has often done since making his first prediction in 1887. Of the 127 recorded times Phil has predicted the weather, he has now seen his shadow 107 (84%) times. His longest streak of seeing his shadow remains at 31, when he saw it every year from 1903-33.

    It’ll take some time to figure out if Phil’s prediction will be right, but given his history, he’s likely wrong. (Source: USA Today)

    But math be damned! There’s a whimsical charm surrounding the event. Seasonality keeps us in sync with our environment, wondering and wandering about nature, so the meter-marmot’s sub 50/50 track record isn’t really the point.

    To better understand the popularity of Groundhog Day, Troy Harman (Penn State University history professor and Gettysburg National Military Park ranger) talks left brain, right brain and the science-to-tradition spectrum.

    “Throughout history, whenever there has been a real strong emphasis on science, its counterpart of intuition, instinct, emotion, imagination — the right side of our brain — pushes back a little bit,” Harman says, explaining that Groundhog Day took off right around the time of the industrial revolution.

    He says those massive societal and technological changes spurred a desire to return to what people imagined were simpler times, in the form of things like literary romanticism and gothic revival architecture…

    “I strongly suspect that the people that go to Gobbler’s Knob are fully aware of the power of science, but at the same time want to hold on to traditions and a deeper vibe,” he says. “There’s the instincts and the intuition and the imagination that every human being has that has to come into balance with logic and reason.” (Source: NPR)

    It seems there’s plenty more to be said on this logic, reason, and science versus intuition, emotion, and imagination comparison, but this isn’t the time or place. And I think that Harman’s probably right. Trusting in science and logic, many/most of us still allow room for romantic traditions and intuition. It’s quite likely a part of what humanizes us.

    Groundhog Day (Illustration: Geo Davis via Ralph Katieb, Unsplash, Snapseed, Waterlogue)
    Groundhog Day, Shadowyless (Illustration: Geo Davis via Ralph Katieb, Unsplash, Snapseed, Waterlogue)

    Six More Weeks of Winter

    So whether today’s shadow viewing gets chalked up on the wins side or the losses side of Punxsutawney Phil’s tally, we’re likely to see another six weeks on winter weather in Essex. Sure, there will be some balmy days when the mud oozes, but it’s a rare year that February and even much or March aren’t snowy or at least inclement. But we’re hoping this year to take advantage of the high tunnel to fast-track spring in the vegetable garden, so we just might stand a chance of realizing the optimism in my haiku!

    In closing, you may be wondering what the difference is between a groundhog and a woodchuck. And what about a marmot?!?! Although the three names are often used interchangeably, the “marmot” is exactly the same as the other two. While a groundhog and a woodchuck are one and the same wildlife (taxonomically Marmota monax), the term “marmot” generally refers to the entire genus Marmota and/or the subgenus Marmota which includes the groundhog (aka woodchuck, whistlepig, monax, moonack, whistler, groundpig, etc.) Armed with that tidy tidbit of trivia you’re armed and dangerous for happy hour this evening. Cheers to Phil. Cheers to spring!

     

  • Searching for Poetry

    Searching for Poetry

    Searching for Poetry Amidst Architectural Salvage (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Searching for Poetry Amidst Architectural Salvage (Photo: Geo Davis)

    Searching for poetry, questing for questions that need no answers to matter and guide and enrich.

    This might be my epitaph. Some day. But not yet. I hope.

    Today, the vernal equinox, I awoke at 4:00 AM, eager to start cooking a wild boar roast I had thawed. Actually it wasn’t the roast that caffeinated me prior to my first cuppa MUD\WTR, that zero-to-sixtied my green gray matter within seconds.

    If the human brain were a computer, it would be the greenest computer on Earth.

    The basis for the brain’s greenness is its ultra-high computational efficiency; that is, it can generate a tremendous amount of computational output for the very little power it draws. (Source: Is the human brain a biological computer? | Princeton University Press)

    You with me? Caveat emptor: it’s going to be that kind of post!

    It wasn’t anticipation of the pulled wild boar that I enjoyed for lunch (and soon will enjoy for dinner) that prevented me from falling back asleep. (I love variety, but if it ain’t broke… And if you’ve cooked 5.4lbs of wild boar shoulder, then share, eat, share, eat, share,…)

    It was one of those light-switch-on awakenings. Sound asleep one moment, wide awake the next. 100% alert, cylinders thumping away, and focus dialed in. Monday morning’s are often like that for me. And with an ambitious punch list for the icehouse rehab, I needed to hit the ground running. Or jumpstart the week by roasting a wild boar shoulder?

    Both.

    But, after talking through exterior trim and clapboard siding with two contractors, explaining how to prune watersprouts (aka “growth shoots) out of our mature American Linden to another contractor, and various other midmorning miscellanea, I headed into the carriage barn for some, ahem, research.

    I’m still sorting through architectural salvage and surplus building materials, endeavoring to make final decisions for the icehouse. Woulda-coulda-shoulda tackled this many months ago, and I tried, but the process continues to evolve. In some cases, it’s continues to elude me. So my endeavor continues.

    Today I ruled out a couple of ideas I’ve been developing, visions for upcycling deconstructed cabinetry from Sherwood Inn days. The visions have faded, but all is not lost. In the shadowy space they’ve left behind, I stumbled upon something else.

    A poem.

    Searching for Poetry Amidst Architectural Salvage (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Searching for Poetry Amidst Architectural Salvage (Photo: Geo Davis)

    Searching for Poetry

    Wabi-sabi wandering,
    wabi-sabi wondering —
    reimagining relics,
    architectural salvage,
    weather worn detritus,
    offcuts, rusty remainders,
    time textured tatters,
    pre-mosaic fragments,
    and dust mote mirages —
    so much pulling apart,
    so much pushing aside,
    searching for poetry.

    Today I concluded that the vision I’d been pursuing  — a vision of upcycling deconstructed cabinetry and paneling from the Sherwood Inn’s colonial taproom  — had been little more than mirage. However as this mirage vanished, I happened upon a glimmer of clarity, fleeting but encouraging, around an even bigger mystery that I’ve been chasing. Also mirage-like, also elusive, also a problem that persistence might hopefully tame, also a quest for questions that illuminate and instruct even when their answers evanesce.

    This glimmer of clarity (try to imagine a spark that just might benefit from attention, a flickering flame that invites kindling with promises of a roaring bonfire) materialized briefly where moments before a mirage had danced and vanished. And what did I see? Companionship. Kinship. Similarity. Affinity. Between poetry and architectural rehabilitation and adaptive reuse. A glimmer and gone. I exaggerate, but the picture is at once protean, subtle, and elusive.

    Nevertheless, I will continue to strive, risk, and experiment. I will continue essaying to illustrate the intimate overlap between poetry and construction — especially between composing lyric essay and adaptive reuse of existing buildings and building materials — until my wandering and wondering renders an oasis. Or admits a mirage.

  • Mixed Species Flooring Experiment

    Mixed Species Flooring Experiment

    Mixed Species Flooring Experiment: character beech and jatoba, a.k.a. Brazilian cherry (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
    Mixed Species Flooring Experiment: character beech and jatoba, a.k.a. Brazilian cherry (Photo: R.P. Murphy)

    Repurposing Rosslyn’s icehouse is an ambitious project within a diminutive space. On the one hand, it’s an historic rehabilitation of an obsolescent utility building into a home office/studio with lifestyle perks like a hot tub and firepit. It’s also an experiment in adaptive reuse: reinventing this no-longer functionally relevant building with materials cherry picked from 17+ years of architectural salvage, surplus building materials from several renovations, and a a carriage barn full of lumber harvested, milled, and cured on site from a decade and a half of restoration work in Rosslyn’s fields and forests. There are even a couple of personal objectives woven into the present project, but I’ll hem them in for now do that I can reflect on the mixed species flooring photographed above and below.

    You’re looking at two different hardwood species in these flooring samples: beech (this batch has been selected for its “character”, patterned grain) and jatoba (a.k.a. Brazilian cherry). Both of these are surplus remaining from our 2006-9 rehab of the house, and either/both of them *might* find their way into the icehouse. I’ll explain more in due course, but today I’d like to narrow our focus to our preliminary “research”, experimentation with enough whimsy and creative license that it almost feels like playing around.

    I’m referring to a sort of exploratory brainstorming, decidedly unscientific experimentation but curiosity-fueled artistic experimentation. The question we’ve begun to explore is what might be possible if we combined dissimilar wood species in the same floor? Could the beechwood and the jatoba hardwood flooring merge into an appealing design element? Would this experiment in combinatorial creativity contribute meaningfully to a unique, cohesive design?

    Wondering and wandering into this experiment was made possible by Pam and Tony who pulled stock from storage, arranged patterns playfully, and sent me the photographs to ponder. And while there’s still plenty of experimentation ahead in this little mixed species flooring experiment, the creative cogs have begun to spin…

    Flooring Experiment: jatoba, a.k.a. Brazilian cherry (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
    Flooring Experiment: jatoba, a.k.a. Brazilian cherry (Photo: R.P. Murphy)

    Why Experiment with Mixed Species Flooring?

    Sometimes the singing underneath surfaces in a timely manner. Good fortune allows the insights of Kathleen Kralowec to help answer this question. All of the following excerpts are drawn from her article, a wise wander that opens as if I’d written it myself.

    This article, I warn you, is itself an experiment: a conscious act of wandering.

    Kathleen Kralowec, “Why Artists Must Experiment” (Source: Medium)

    Let’s wander a bit with Kralowec.

    Recognizing an act as an experiment releases it from a lot of… demands of perfection. The outcome of experimentation is knowledge, and failure is just as valuable as success, because one has expanded one’s awareness of one’s own abilities, one’s deeper ideas, the potential of a media, a process, a genre, an art-form.

    And so we play with beech and jatoba, experimenting and exploring, yielding to our curiosity, risking failure, but also possibly failing our way toward success.

    Flooring Experiment: character beech (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
    Flooring Experiment: character beech (Photo: R.P. Murphy)

    Artists must experiment in order to find their way… because there is no other road-map, no other way to discover how best to navigate…

    As creatives we must grow comfortable with the prospect of forging our own way, navigating by trial-and-error. Kralowec goes on to propose the notion of a creative/artistic studio as a laboratory. Experimentation — and this encompasses failures as well as success — is fundamental to the creative process. And so Pam and Tony and I plunge headfirst into our laboratory, experimenting, mapping the unknown.

    Practice, or rehearsal, is meant to increase precision on an existing pattern of action. Experimentation takes us outside those repetitions, to unexplored territory, untried actions… Experiment is an open door, an invitation to do things that might not work, and its necessary for what we may as well call innovation in the arts.

    Jettisoning the familiar patterns, the customary solutions, and the “right way” is liberating, and sometimes a little unnerving. Welcome to the wilderness!

    Experimentation allows one to explore the wilderness of one’s own talent and the wilderness of one’s own mind… Sometimes one must let go, enter into the experimental space, give oneself that permission to stumble, in order to advance to the next stage.

    Mixed Species Flooring Experiment: character beech and jatoba, a.k.a. Brazilian cherry (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
    Mixed Species Flooring Experiment: character beech and jatoba, a.k.a. Brazilian cherry (Photo: R.P. Murphy)

    And stumble, we will. Stumble, I do. Often. But every once in a while, wandering in this metaphorical wilderness of experimentation, we discover something singular, something remarkable.

    Extending Kralowec’s notion of art studio as experimental laboratory to our creative practice(s) in general, then it’s incumbent upon us to untether from the familiar, the tried and true, the already discovered, in order to wonder and wander uninhibited, in order to explore and experiment without prejudice and confining assumptions. Not always, of course. And we must be willing to fail. Often. It is this vulnerability combined with curiosity, and with the courage to challenge our constraints and catalyze that curiosity through experimentation into the possibility of discovery.

    At this stage we’re still early in our experimentation. Discovery is still eluding us. But our curiosity and our carefree experimentation are raring to go!

    https://www.instagram.com/p/CmFsG48OEa4/

    Now that we’ve experimented with the beech and jatoba flooring in their raw, unaltered state I have a couple of follow-on experiments I’m hoping to run. Stay tuned!