Reub's journey

22 April 2017

Fear less

 I had never seen a drone before Saturday afternoon. From down below it sounded like a yard tool. But up above in the temporary blue sky, it was beautiful, flying above the people gathered to walk the streets of Corvallis to support science on Earth Day.

 There were at least 3,300 people gathered around the courthouse. Wow. That is quite a few for a town this size.

 Science should not be a partisan thing. No scientists want this. Yet, unfortunately, our current leadership is forcing science into the political arena.

 And so there will be demonstrations.

 There are many angry Americans.

 This lady was on oxygen, doing the best she could to support the science that she depends upon. Why is our leadership defunding science? She wants to know. Her participation makes her feel energized and hopeful for change.

I have climate change doubters in my family. I love them dearly. They know the climate is changing (duh), but do not believe that it is anything more than "weather."  I do not know how to tell them otherwise because they will not listen, despite mountains of data that shows the unprecedented velocity of global warming due to human activity.

 Marie Curie: Nothing in life is to be feared; it is only to be understood. Now is the time to understand more so that we may fear less.

 I do fear this. There are things we can do. But our government goes in the opposite direction, and there are many who support it.

 God bless the nerds. They may be our salvation. He stood there all by himself.

And the kids; they bring hope. She was dressed as a butterfly and talked extensively about them. There will be no stopping the kids. Happy Earth Day. May we all have cause to fear less.

30 March 2017


We just returned from a brief respite at a favorite spot in the central Cascades of Oregon, a place we often visit as the seasons change in March and September.  This year it has been a long winter, and the snow and ice linger.

 What a good place to think, just at the turning of winter. A quiet place, disconnected from the internet and no phone or television connection.

 The edges of things are interesting. Edges and corners are places where you must stop and consider.  What to keep, what to let go, what to change, what to defend.

 There are choices, very different directions. Man, everything seems like politics these days.

 What a beautiful country we live in. May we find our way to peaceful resolutions of difficult problems in a world that is complicated and ever-moving. May it be so.

22 December 2016

Playing the elf

I love Christmas. I like the hubbub of it: cookies baking, the warm house aglow with lights, the fresh tree in the living room. I love the generous spirit which never lasts long enough.

I've been playing the elf, making things for 3 small grandsons. Here is a campfire created out of felt and paper for the oldest, who just turned five.

Detachable flames! Why not. And of course, marshmallows.

For the 2 1/2 year old:  fish, with metal rings and paperclips sewn into their mouths.

 Because if your only lure is a magnet, how else can you catch them?

A fish pond.

For the youngest: wee blueberry muffins to "bake" in his little kitchen.

 He needs ingredients. Here is some pasta and broccoli. Had to stitch the noodles together so they wouldn't end up all over the house.

The process is closely regarded.


Finally, a bunch of carrots, a few eggs, and a little shopping bag to keep things in. I might be done.

The making of all of this stuff has been great entertainment. Not sure how it will go over. "Wahooo I got some potatoes!!!" said no one ever. But it really doesn't matter because I've had my own fun with it. And that's good enough for me.

17 December 2016

A winter's gift

We don't get a lot of snow here in western Oregon, but when we do, it is usually a gift. Today, after a recent snow, John and I spent some time with friends on their property north of town. Much of it was about looking at tracks. Who had passed through in the last two days? Cougar and deer.

Bobcat and cougar, crossing the narrow plank bridge over a creek. Given a choice, cats of all sizes daintily avoid stepping in water, don't they?

More than one cougar had been poking around. One big kitty had 5 toes.

That's right: take care not to step on the ferns.


Cougar hunt deer, and the tracks mingle.

A mouse, wishing to avoid detection, tunnels beneath the snow's surface, then pops up for air.

A mouse above the snow: hopping south on the left, north on the right.  See the tail?

A bobcat, leaving a circle of snow all around her furry foot.

When did the bobcat pass through? There are crystals covering her print, telling us that it wasn't this morning.

At last we left the snowy, tangled woods,

stepped over the icy art on the path, and went into the cabin for soup and a warm fire. All of it a winter's gift.

19 October 2016

Complex world

Detail from 6th grade painting. My student, natch.
Today I read an article about how hard it is to be a seventh grade teacher. Specifically, how do you teach 12 year olds to make rational arguments in mock political debates conducted at school, in the current political climate? The kids interviewed in this article sounded so smart and reasonable. But sadly the first two debates could not even make the cut for what is permissible to be shown in a classroom and schools have to use the old Romney-Obama debates as examples.

I am skipping tonight's debate, even though it may be the best. At least I hope it is better than the others.

Instead I'm looking at photos of former middle-school student art work. Among other things, I used to teach calligraphy to 8th graders, and was always amazed by what they chose to quote in their projects. Is this a Green Day quote? I think so. Written in a tenuous beginner's hand it's a beautiful one for this rainy Oregon October.

It is a complex world facing our kids, but there is hope for them. When you look at what they can do, and what they have already said or produced, all is not lost.

 Despite the opposing forces out there, we will survive. And maybe, just maybe, things will improve. Let's fervently hope so.

10 October 2016

Curling towards the sun

John noticed it first.

 It was all by itself, so close to the path it was surprising that one of us (John, me, Ed and Reub) hadn't trampled it: Parosola plicatilis.

A perfectly formed, nearly transparent little mushroom containing a tablespoon or so of last night's rainwater.

Its life span is maybe 18 hours, tops.

After a few hours it begins to curl towards the sun.

Then briefly it turns in on itself like a flower closing for the night.

But it isn't just the night; it's the end.

The sun shines brightly.

By dusk few will notice this small thing, or know what a perfectly beautiful life it lived. Perhaps it is enough that just you and I have witnessed it.