Song for a Turning World

~ shoreacres ~ 54 Comments
BERJAYATurning toward a new season

As a maelstrom of conflict and change sweeps across the world, I find myself returning to the music of Gordon Bok: woodworker, sculptor, sailor, and poet. It serves as a touchstone — a reminder of a more gracious time — and I’m once again grateful for the graciousness of a reader who introduced me to Bok’s life and creativity.

Al and I had been exchanging thoughts on music. In an emailed post-script to our conversation, he added, “I can’t think of a better song than Gordon Bok’s “Turning Toward the Morning.” Pointing me toward Albany, New York’s WAMC and their Saturday night broadcasts of the “Hudson River Sampler” he said, “I can almost guarantee you’ll hear something by Bok: if not this Saturday, then next Saturday, for sure. And something by Stan Rogers, as well. But you’ll also hear songs you’ve never heard before, and will want to hear again.”

He was right. Having been introduced to Bok and his fellow musicians, Ed Trickett and Ann Mayo Muir, I couldn’t help wanting to hear more from their rich repertoire. Drawn from an historic sea-faring culture, redolent of seaweed and salt, their net-hauling songs and ballads of the Maine coast evoked a world whose broad outlines would be recognizable even to Gulf coast shrimpers.  It’s a world that informs Bok’s original compositions, as well as his retelling of folk tales rooted in cultures from around the world.

Listening to his music, I wondered at Bok’s pathway through life, deeply touched by his simplicity and kindness. I even laughed at certain similarities between us. “I didn’t understand what my father did because he worked in an office,” Bok once said. “There was nothing that came out of it that I could feel – you couldn’t put a coat of varnish on it.”

BERJAYA

After much reading and listening, I still agree with my friend. Good songs continue to be written, and great songs endure, but there’s no better song than Turning Toward the Morning. Like a small-boat day on the water, it’s easy and rhythmic, perfectly designed to soothe away preoccupations and care.

But “Turning Toward the Morning” is more than easy listening for an easy afternoon. It’s a poet’s way of stating an inviolable truth: that in the face of all that life imposes in the way of difficulties, chaos, and fear, life itself goes on. As Bok tells it, the song was born of personal experience:

“One of the things that provoked this song was a letter last November from a friend who’d had a very difficult year and was looking for the courage to keep on plowing into it. Those times, you lift your eyes unto the hills, as they say, but the hills of Northern New England in November can be about as much comfort as a cold crowbar.
You have to look ahead a bit then, and realize that all the hills and trees and flowers will still be there come spring, usually more permanent than your troubles. And if your courage occasionally fails, that’s okay, too. Nobody expects you to be as strong as the land.”

In this time when political wrangling, deep division, fearfulness, lack of trust, and generalized crass nastiness increasingly characterize our society, Bok’s song affirms what faith proclaims and what hearts dare hope: that despite appearances, despite the coming darkness of our winter-shortened days, the world continues to turn. And always, no matter the depth of the surrounding darkness, it is turning toward the morning.

When the deer has bedded down
and the bear has gone to ground,
and the northern goose has wandered off
to warmer bay and sound,
it’s so easy in the cold
to feel the darkness of the year,
and the heart is growing lonely for the morning.
Oh, my Joanie, don’t you know
that the stars are swingin’ slow,
and the seas are rollin’ easy as they did so long ago.
And if I had a thing to give you,
I would tell you one more time
that the world is always turning toward the morning.
Now, October’s growin’ thin
and November’s comin’ home,
you’ll be thinkin’ of the season
and the sad things that you’ve seen.
And you hear that old wind walkin’,
hear him singin’ high and thin,
you could swear he’s out there singin’ of his sorrow.
Oh, my Joanie, don’t you know
that the stars are swingin’ slow,
and the seas are rollin’ easy, as they did so long ago.
If I had a thing to give you,
I would tell you one more time
that the world is always turning toward the morning.
When the darkness falls around you
and the north wind comes to blow
and you hear him call your name out
as he walks the brittle snow,
That old wind don’t mean you trouble,
he don’t care or even know,
he’s just walking down the darkness toward the morning.
Oh, my Joanie, don’t you know
that the stars are swingin’ slow,
and the seas are rollin’ easy, as they did so long ago.
If I had a thing to give you,
I would tell you one more time
that the world is always turning toward the morning.
It’s a pity we don’t know
what the little flowers know —
they can’t face the cold November,
they can’t take the wind and snow.
They put their glories all behind them,
bow their heads and let it go,
but you know they’ll be there shining in the morning.
Oh, my Joanie, don’t you know
that the stars are swinging slow,
and the seas are rollin’ easy, as they did so long ago.
And if I had a thing to give you,
I would tell you one more time
that the world is always turning toward the morning.
O, my Joanie don’t you know
that the day is rollin’ slow,
and the winter’s walkin’ easy, as it did so long ago.
And if that wind should come and ask you,
“Why’s my Joanie weepin’ so?”
won’t you tell him that you’re weeping for the morning.
Oh, my Joanie, don’t you know
that the stars are swingin’ slow,
and the seas are rollin’ easy, as they did so long ago.
And if I had a thing to give you,
I would tell you one more time
that the world is always turning toward the morning.

 

BERJAYA

Comments always are welcome.
“Turning Toward the Morning” lyrics are (c) 1975, Gordon Bok, BMI.
For more information on Gordon Bok’s work, please click here.

 

Walking An October Woods

~ shoreacres ~ 116 Comments
BERJAYAAutumn sunflowers among Big Thicket pines

For several years, the annual event known as Walktober has encouraged bloggers to spend time in nature, sharing their experience with others through words and photos.

This year, I chose to make two end-of-October visits to a pair of sites close to one another geographically and closely related ecologically: the Solo tract and the Sandylands Sanctuary, both part of the Texas region known as the Big Thicket. Distinguished by sandy soils, loblolly and long-leaf pines, and a variety of plants that thrive in an environment that’s been described as ‘a prairie with trees,’ both Solo and Sandylands are fascinating places to visit.

In this environment, the sunflowers shown in the photos above and below are better described by the alternate name ‘narrow-leafed.’ Their preferred environment is moist, but not necessarily swampy. In fall, these flowers sometimes fill acres of land.

BERJAYASwamp (or narrowleaf) sunflower ~ Helianthus angustifolius

Nearby, another member of the sunflower family continued to bloom at the end of its long season. Roughstem rosinweed often appears alongside roads in south central Texas as early as mid-March; its ‘long goodbye’ benefits every sort of pollinator.

BERJAYARoughstem rosinweed ~ Silphium radula

Another summer-into fall delight, Bidens aristosa, thrives in moist conditions: so much so that it’s sometimes called swamp marigold. Unlike other Bidens species, this beggartick’s seeds don’t easily attach to clothing, shoelaces, or fur.

BERJAYABearded beggarticks ~ Bidens aristosa

It’s impossible to miss beautiful blue dayflowers, even in the deepest shade. Sometimes known as widow’s tears for the drop of moisture that can be coaxed from the spathe at the base of the flower, they’re widely distributed across the country. The common name ‘dayflower’ refers to their bloom, which lasts for only one day.

BERJAYADayflower ~ Commelina erecta

Our tiny, pastel pink rough buttonweed can be distinguished from Virginia buttonweed (Diodia virginiana) by its color; the Virginia buttonweed is white.

BERJAYARough buttonweed ~ Diodia teres

The fall-blooming prairie agalinis, common on both coastal and inland prairies, isn’t shown for these Hardin County sites by the USDA, but it appears on the map provided by BONAP (The Biota of North America Program). Regardless of maps, flowers decide where to bloom, and multitudes of these beauties were scattered across the Solo tract.

BERJAYAPrairie agalinis ~ Agalinis heterophylla
BERJAYAMore than butterflies and bees visit this charming autumn flower

One of the creatures visiting the agalinis was this sculptured pine borer I found lying motionless on a stem. Females of this species lay eggs on scars in the bark of living pines or downed logs; their larvae may feed for several years before emerging, usually in summer. The adults live relatively short lives, lasting only a few weeks; this one may be gone already.

BERJAYASculptured pine borer ~ Chalcophora virginiensis

One of our most widespread and familiar wildflowers, firewheel can be found blooming year-round at the coast, but it emerges early and lingers late in other areas of the state. A source of nectar and pollen for insects like honey bees, it’s especially attractive to humans.

BERJAYAIndian blanket or firewheel ~ Gaillardia pulchella

The Sandylands Sanctuary is home to a rare white Gaillardia species known as Winkler’s blanketflower. Native only to Hardin, Newton, and Tyler Counties, it shares its habitat with the rare Texas trailing phlox (Phlox nivalis ssp. texensis) and the uncommon scarlet catchfly (Silene subciliata). Finding each of those flowers was sheer pleasure; choosing a favorite among them would be impossible.

BERJAYAWinkler’s blanketflower ~ Gaillardia aestivalis var. winkleri

Two tiny spurge species — members of the large Euphorbia genus — are quite attractive, if you happen to notice them. Sometimes nodding spurge claims attention by turning reddish in response to strong sunlight and dry conditions.

BERJAYANodding spurge ~ Euphobia nutans

In wooded areas, the somewhat taller white flowering spurge shines against the shadows.

BERJAYAFlowering spurge ~ Euphorbia corollata

I learned an important lesson at Sandylands when I found these pretty flowers blooming. I’d never seen anything like them, so I squirmed around on the ground trying to manage photos of plants that seemed to be resprouting: perhaps after having been cut, or burned in a prescribed fire. Within an hour, ‘pretty’ turned into ‘pretty annoying,’ and I added poison oak to my list of pretties to be avoided.

BERJAYAAtlantic poison oak ~ Toxicodendron pubescens

I’ve never found a snake in snake cotton, but I love these odd little plants. Another species, Froelichia gracilis, or plains snake cotton, is common farther west: both produce unusual, urn-like flowers.

BERJAYAFlorida snakecotton ~ Froelichia floridana

The plant does become cottony as it matures, making the common name understandable.

BERJAYASnake cotton all fuzzed up

Every sort of creature lurks within the cotton.

BERJAYAA green lynx spider (Peucetia viridans) waits for breakfast

I watched this wasp digging around in one spot for nearly ten minutes, until it disentangled a larva and flew off with it.

BERJAYA A mason or potter wasp searches more actively
BERJAYAand finds a tasty breakfast treat

A variety of Liatris species still provided color, despite their season being nearly at its end.

BERJAYASharp blazing star ~ Liatris acidota
BERJAYAPink-scale gayfeather with yellow bracts ~ Liatris elegans
BERJAYAA differently-colored Liatris elegans

The dramatically tall prairie blazing stars, so prolific in good years, had mostly faded and fallen, but some combination of conditions had led to new growth and bits of their wonderful color.

BERJAYAPrairie Blazing star ~ Liatris pycnostachya
BERJAYASome provided camouflage for insects like this green lynx spider
BERJAYAIf one stem is good, perhaps three will be better

Finding one of our Palafoxia species in bloom was pure pleasure. According to the maps, a similar species, the showy (or sand) palafox may or may not be present in Hardin county, but the Sandylands plant list mentions only Reverchon’s palafox. In any case, hundreds of these petite pink flowers were attracting a significant number of bees.

BERJAYAReverchon’s palafox ~ Palafoxia reverchonii 
BERJAYAAutumn-blooming flowers ~ pretty and useful

A few dozen lingering summer lavenders remained. Obviously beginning to fade, they served as reminders that the season truly was turning.

BERJAYA Maryland meadow beauty ~ Rhexia mariana
BERJAYATexas ironweed ~ Vernonia texana

Fall is goldenrod season, and at least twelve species are listed for Hardin county. Given these plants’ height, their obvious tolerance for shade, their growth in isolated clumps, and their presence on moister ground, I suspected I’d found Solidago canadensis, although S. altissima, another tall goldenrod, could be a reasonable choice. In any event, tall golden plants scattered at the edge of the woods are a dependable autumn delight.

BERJAYACanadian goldenrod ~ Solidago canadensis

October’s cooler temperatures often encourage what Texans like to call a ‘second spring.’ The buds and blooms of St.Peterswort may seem spring-like, but their pastel yellow regularly appears into October.

BERJAYASt. Peterswort ~ Hypericum crux-andreaeBERJAYAPerhaps a last St. Peterswort of summer

Since my October visits, both frost and light freezes have come to the piney woods, making it hard to say what I’ll find when next I return. What’s certain is that this rich and varied landscape provided a perfect conclusion to October, and will continue to offer delights in the seasons to come.

 

BERJAYA

Comments always are welcome.

Natural Tricks and Treats

~ shoreacres ~ 90 Comments
BERJAYAWho could fear this? Juvenile peacock spider (photo by Jürgen Otto)

Jürgen Otto is passionate about spiders: not just any spiders, but the tiny Australian creatures known as peacock spiders. Famous for their brilliant colors and intricately patterned courtship dances, their genus, Maratus, includes sixty-seven species and subspecies.

Peacock spiders first were described by British arachnologist Octavius Pickard-Cambridge in 1874. In recent years, Otto and his colleague David Hill have discovered more than half of the currently documented species. One species has been found in China, but the others all live in Australia, primarily in the bushlands on the southern portion of the continent.

Peacock spiders are so small (the one in the photo above obviously is sitting on a pencil) that most people don’t notice them, even in the heart of their territories. Recalling his own first encounter with a peacock spider, Otto says:

I did not know anything about them until I stumbled over one during a walk in nearby bushland [near Sydney] purely by accident. It attracted my attention in the way it jumped — it seemed more nimble than other spiders. The specimen I saw then was one of Maratus volans, and I had no idea at the time what it was or that there were other similar species.
BERJAYAMaratus volans in his full glory, with abdominal flaps extended
BERJAYAA true thumbnail portrait of Maratus volans ~ notice the folded abdominal flaps

For many years, people believed that peacocks (a variety of jumping spider) used the flaps on the sides of their abdomens to glide through the air, but no one actually had seen them use the flaps for any purpose. Eventually, Otto’s research suggested that Maratus volans used its flaps in courtship, and his work with the spiders confirmed it.

When a male peacock spider encounters a female, he initiates courtship by waving his legs like semaphore flags. If she seems interested,  he raises the flaps at his sides and displays his brilliantly colored abdomen while dancing back and forth.

If he performs well and the female finds him acceptable, they will mate; occasionally, the female will do her own little dance of acceptance. But color patterns and dance moves are species-specific, meaning that males with atypical dances, or color patterns that resemble those of a different species, can come to a sorry end. The intricacy of the ritual is amazing; it’s nearly impossible to not to root for the little guys.

There’s little sentimentality among female peacock spiders. If she doesn’t approve of the dance, or mistakes his abdominal pattern for that of an unfamiliar species, she’ll often have the male for lunch.

The unsuccessful mating dance of a Maratus personatus who lived to tell the tale

Watching one of Otto’s  videos, it’s easy to assume the spiders are dancing in the wild. But many videos were shot in his home, where he maintains a ‘spider room’ for studying and documenting the various species in every stage of development.

At one point, he kept a pile of leaves on the dining room table for photo shoots, until his wife objected and other accomodations had to be made. As for the filming itself, Otto’s techniques are relatively simple:

 When I started to film them, I had no idea about how to go about it. I simply thought one day to explore the video option on my DSLR, a Canon 7D with a 100mm macro lens. So I just kept filming them and added scene after scene to my collection. I had no prior experience in editing video footage.
The equipment that professional documentary makers use is very different from mine, with much larger cameras, big steady tripods etc., and for a while I thought that getting such equipment would be something to strive for.
However, I now realize that the small, simple, and cheap setup I used was almost ideal for the job as it allowed me to follow the spiders on the ground and use natural lighting. Once you find a place where they occur, you simply have to search for specimens and watch them or, better, find a pair that is already engaged in some courtship.

Otto’s affection for his subjects is obvious, as is his hope that people introduced to them will develop the same affection. He often mentions that the spiders are considered cute, even by self-declared arachnophobes, and that he “loves the way they interact with their environment: how they exhibit fear, excitement, and curiosity.” Seen through his eyes, the spiders are less fearful than fascinating: the very opposite of the Halloween horror they’re often portrayed to be.

What’s also clear is that he enjoys their dancing, and sometimes is amused by it. I suspect only someone with a great deal of affection for these creatures and an ability to be amused by them would have come up with this video. It’s a musical tribute with a sly title. For the male peacock spider, staying alive certainly does depend on his ability to dance his tiny little heart out.

BERJAYA

Comments always are welcome.
For more videos, see Jürgen Otto’s YouTube channel.  For photos, try his Flickr page.
For a bit more science, PECKHAMIA, archives of the Peckham Society, are available. Founded in 1977 as an informal alliance of amateur and professional naturalists or scientists with an interest in jumping spider research, the society was named in honor of George and Elizabeth Peckham, early pioneers in the field.

The Jeweler

~ shoreacres ~ 96 Comments
BERJAYAAmerican beautyberry

 

Fruit
by fruit,
autumn strings
her nascent jewels,
twists the aging vines
 and dangles sumptuous hues:
snailseed brilliant in red; 
peppervine’s glossy black twining;
 purpled lantana, amethyst drupes;
shining gifts from a season soon leaving.

 

BERJAYA

Comments always are welcome.
For more information on the Etheree, a syllabic poem that, in its basic form, contains ten lines and a total of fifty-five syllables, please click here.

The Poets’ Birds ~ Hummingbirds

~ shoreacres ~ 114 Comments

BERJAYA

 

Thanks to a previous trip, I knew there would be no blooming flowers or easily visible wading birds at the Brazoria Wildlife Refuge last Saturday, and I nearly passed it by. Moved to make a second visit despite it all, I found my impulse richly rewarded. In front of the refuge’s Discovery Center, someone had filled feeders for migrating hummingbirds, and clouds of them were visiting as well.

I’ve never seen many hummingbirds in nature. When I do, their flightiness, short perching time, and the abundance of twigs and leaves among which they flit always has combined with my own lack of skill to produce highly unsatisfactory photos. But this time, the plain background provided by the Discovery Center’s building and a little more knowledge about camera settings allowed for a better record of their visit.

I watched them hovering, feeding, and fighting for nearly an hour. Later, I remembered Chilean poet Pablo Neruda’s lovely “Ode to the Hummingbird,” and finally was able to add these ‘jewels of the sky’ to my Poet’s Birds series. Before long, the birds themselves will be gone, but as Neruda makes clear, the memories will remain.

The hummingbird
in flight
is a water-spark,
an incandescent drip
of American
fire,
the jungle’s
flaming resume,
a heavenly,
precise
rainbow:
the hummingbird is
an arc,
a golden
thread,
a green
bonfire!

BERJAYA

Oh
tiny
living
lightning,
when
you hover
in the air,
you are
a body of pollen,
a feather
or hot coal.
I ask you:
What is your substance?

BERJAYA

Perhaps during the blind age
of the Deluge,
within fertility’s
mud,
when the rose
crystallized
in an anthracite fist,
and metals matriculated
each one in
a secret gallery
perhaps then
from a wounded reptile
some fragment rolled,
a golden atom,
the last cosmic scale,
a drop of terrestrial fire
took flight,
suspending your splendor,
your iridescent,
swift sapphire.

BERJAYA

You doze
on a nut,
fit into a diminutive blossom;
you are an arrow,
a pattern,
a coat-of-arms,
honey’s vibrato, pollen’s ray;
you are so stouthearted–
the falcon
with his black plumage
does not daunt you:
you pirouette,
a light within the light,
air within the air.
Wrapped in your wings,
you penetrate the sheath
of a quivering flower,
not fearing
that her nuptial honey
may take off your head!

BERJAYA

From scarlet to dusty gold,
to yellow flames,
to the rare
ashen emerald,
to the orange and black velvet
of our girdle gilded by sunflowers,
to the sketch
like
amber thorns,
your Epiphany,
little supreme being,
you are a miracle.

BERJAYA

Shimmering
from torrid California
to Patagonia’s whistling,
bitter wind,
You are a sun-seed,
plumed
fire,
a miniature
flag
in flight,
a petal of silenced nations,
a syllable
of buried blood,
a feather
of an ancient heart,
submerged.

BERJAYA

BERJAYA

Comments always are welcome.
For more on Nobel Prize winning poet Pablo Neruda, please click here.