Subsidies? 'Fur' Sure!

Once in a while it's nice to get off this speeding bullet train called life. From the back porch of our temporary home, the lakeside tree house, we witness progress of a different sort. What we think might be a northern river otter, Lutra canadensis, pops its head up from the muck and chomps noisily on some crunchy morsel. A fish made sluggish by the cold winter water or perhaps a frog venturing forth from the cold mud becomes supper for this member of the weasel family. As I try unsuccessfully to capture it in focus on the camera, I think about the trappers and fur traders who once made a substantial income from its ancestors' hides. 

Beavers, otters, muskrats, and minks were at one time so popular as winter outerwear for wealthy Europeans that our own Congress under President George Washington agreed to subsidize the fabulously profitable fur industry. Something unthinkable today, this subsidy encouraged the slaughter of thousands of animals for the sake of a fashion statement. Thank goodness that was short-lived, the fashion I mean. Subsidies continue in perpetuity even though entrepreneurs like John Jacob Astor proved without a doubt that private industry prevails over the lumbering giant known as Government. Just about anything you can think of in this country is subsidized in part or in its entirety by tax dollars: Education, healthcare, ethanol production, farming, ranching, solar power, wind power, oil and gas production, churches.... Help me out here. I know there are more things to add to the list.

Aristocracy never really disappeared from this country. It just morphed into elitism that preys on sluggish minds: We know what's good for you. We must continue those subsidies, or else!

There is something so massive, stable, and almost irresistibly imposing, in the exterior presentment of established rank and great possessions, that their very existence seems to give them a right to exist; at least, so excellent a counterfeit of right, that few poor and humble men have moral force enough to question it, even in their secret minds. Such is the case now, after so many ancient prejudices have been overthrown; and it was far more so in ante-revolutionary days, when the aristocracy could venture to be proud, and the low were content to be abased....

Nathaniel Hawthorne, The House of the Seven Gables, 1851

A Book Review: Taking Evans' 'The Walk' Across Florida and to Ichetucknee Spring

I've always believed that the quickest way to a man's heart and maybe soul is not through his stomach but through his love of nature. When SAM the Saluki man and I first met at SIU 32 years ago, it was our shared love of all things outdoors that sealed and nourished our relationship. Walks in the woods, climbing glacial-era sandstone boulders at nearby Giant City Park, and studying each other between classes on a park-like campus filled our memory banks with more riches than any exalted career path ever could. When I picked up Richard Paul Evans' The Walk at the library a couple of weeks ago, the title, the cover, and the jacket description of it as a "life-changing journey, both physical and spiritual," captured my attention. Here, I thought, would be the perfect traveling book. We had a journey of our own to take across the state of Florida, and I figured Mr. Evans might have some insights to share with us through his fictional characters. For instance, would the protagonist change his plans to suit an irascible sister-in-law and keep peace in the family? Probably not, since he's hell-bent and trauma-warped enough to insist on doing it his way. Doing it means walking all the way from Seattle to Key West, after he has "lost everything," and he's "taking with him only the barest of essentials." Like a debit card to draw on a hefty account administered by his attractive personal assistant? So he can buy energy bars, trail mix, Pop-Tarts, and beef jerky to fuel his passion for walking. And later to pay for meals at roadside diners and then a night's stay at a luxurious bed-and-breakfast. Some things in this book don't ring true, and I think it might have a lot to do with the walk itself.  

 Before we took that tandem kayak for a float down the Ichetucknee River a week ago Monday and before we ventured across the state to visit the Irascible Sister-in-Law and other, more easygoing relatives, SAM and I felt like we needed a walk in the woods. We stayed in High Springs on Friday night at a cheap but mostly clean motor inn for a couple of reasons. First, the bigger chain motels don't consider it worth their while to locate themselves so far off the beaten path (Interstate 75). Secondly, we thought we might do the float on Saturday morning before heading over to the East Coast. Then the phone call was made on Friday evening to firm up plans for the weekend. The ISIL made it clear that she was fixing a roast for Saturday supper and that the other family members from Australia were going in the afternoon to visit SAM's mom at the nursing home. Wouldn't we like to join them for both events? Black sheep though we may be, SAM and I decided to keep the peace and not make waves, at least not this time. We would swing back by Ichetucknee on the way home to Tallahassee, hoping the sunny, dry weather would hold on for a couple more days. It did. Getting back to the walk, though, we headed out early Saturday morning to O'Leno State Park where we found a swinging bridge to cross. This one was built by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930s. I don't think anyone has too many complaints about the way that particular stimulus plan worked. We're still enjoying the benefits in 2010.

We hadn't planned on staying more than an hour or so walking on the trail, but you know me. Once I start breathing in that lovely pine smell, and looking up at the lofty canopy towering overhead, I'm hooked.

Who needs to buy Pop-Tarts and beef jerky when you can survive in the woods on pine bark and seeds with a side order of pine needle tea? Getting back to The Walk now, I find it ironic that a physical and spiritual journey gets fueled by store-bought fare. Nature is the best provider as well as healer.

I'm not sure what I expected to find between the pages of the book, but product placement was the furthest thing from my mind when I first started to read it. It didn't take long for the name-dropping to begin. By Chapter Two, I knew that the protag, Alan Christoffersen, drives a Lexus and fell in even greater love with a woman who once operated a Kool-Aid stand. Of course, all of the hype could be explained by the fact that he's an advertising executive. He pitches products for a living so brand names belong in this book, right? Not so fast. Maybe they do before he begins his walk, while he's still caught up in his fast-paced, high-falutin' lifestyle, but once he begins preparing for that spiritual journey after losing everything, those brand names should disappear like water down a sinkhole. Not so. Ray-Ban Wayfarers and an Akubra Coober Pedy hat purchased in Melbourne, no less, adorn our hero as he sets out to leave his life behind.

Water never really disappears down a sinkhole. It just reappears somewhere else, downstream, hopefully in better condition than when it sank. (That's probably not the case, though, considering all the organic and inorganic pollutants that somehow find their way into the groundwater and recharge system.)

For some reason, I expect a good book to do that too--reappear downstream, away from the polluted mainstream, I mean. It has a path for me to follow, and even if it starts out a bit awkwardly, I want it to take me somewhere extraordinary.

So when I read on the first page of Chapter One "The water before me [Gulf of Mexico as seen from Key West] is as blue as windshield wiper fluid," I figure there's still time for this book to find its footing. The journey has just begun, right? Well, no, actually the protag has already reached his destination and the story begins at the end. He tells us that he has "come a long way to get here--nearly 3500 miles." On foot. Where does windshield wiper fluid fit in with that picture? Maybe it's the author's voice squeaking through the veil. Evans tells us on his website that he couldn't "write the book without experiencing the path" his protag takes. So he flies to Seattle and rents a car to drive that path. Whatever happened to walking a mile or 3500 in someone else's shoes?

Or floating down a lazy river in someone else's kayak?

Remember I told you that we waited a couple of days to take that float down the Ichetucknee? I'm so glad we did. If we had gone Saturday, the course would have been clogged with many more boats and people. Now, I'm not antisocial, but when I'm in need of peace to do some serious thinking, the fewer people around the better. 
"What is it to be admitted to a museum, to see a myriad of particular things, compared with being shown some star's surface, some hard matter in its home! I stand in awe of my body, this matter to which I am bound has become so strange to me. I fear not spirits, ghosts, of which I am one--that my body might--but I fear bodies; I tremble to meet them..." --Henry David Thoreau, Maine Woods, "Ktaadn," Part 6

I do like Evans' use of a journal and famous quotes to keep the novel flowing, but I wish he had chosen some better ones than this:
"Above all, do not lose your desire to walk. I know of no thought so burdensome that one cannot walk away from it." --Kierkegaard
The Ichetucknee begins with one head spring, and it becomes a mighty flow not far downstream as other springs join it. Not fast moving, mind you, but flowing nonetheless. It takes hold of your imagination and gets away with it sometimes. Like something that Thoreau has written. Now there's a source from which to gather quotes. Who needs to walk away from burdensome thoughts? Take them with you, wash them in the river, and try them on for size again.

"What is this Titan that has possession of me? Talk of mysteries! Think of our life in nature--daily to be shown matter, to come in contact with it--rocks, trees, wind on our cheeks! the solid earth! the actual world! the common sense! Contact! Contact! Who are we? Where are we?" --Henry David Thoreau, as above

Try as you might, you can't plumb the depths of a spring anymore than you can a human spirit's.

It has hiding places that not even its owner knows about. Someone once told me--or maybe I read it somewhere--that every human has a God-shaped hole in his/her soul. He/she yearns for it to be filled with something. It cries out like an empty stomach and is never satisfied with anything less than the real deal.

Nature was never intended to fill the hole. That would be counterproductive. It's not eternal, and I can't take it home with me. The Lobelia cardinalis I find on this trip down the river won't be there the next time I visit, and it's designed to thrive right where it is, not to be uprooted and thrust in some flower bed.

The Great Egret, Ardea alba, is certainly an object to be admired and maybe even studied but worshipped?

Even turtles like this log-hugging River Cooter seem to know when it's time to cut the crap or the tree so that the river's flow continues unobstructed, and as a bonus he gets a place to hang out and catch a few rays.

Where I am going with this train(wreck) of thought as I float down the river, past the Great Blue Heron intent on catching his dinner? To the latest news about a solar installation in the Mojave Desert. According to an article in the Huffington Post, a couple hundred permanent jobs will be created once this project is completed. Woohoo! I'll bet Californians are excited about that prospect. Though, maybe the creatures calling the desert home won't be so thrilled about it. Ah yes, the price we all must pay for progress. Solar Millenium, a German company responsible for designing one of the 14 fast-track projects approved--for permits as well as funding--by the federal government, "will be required to mitigate the project's effect on more than 8000 acres of habitat for the desert tortoise, western burrowing owl, bighorn sheep, and Mojave fringe-toed lizard, as part of an agreement with federal officials." Unfortunately, the animals were unavailable for comment on the mitigation plan. The same could be said for the vegetation and various insects inhabiting the region.

We knew our trip down the river was nearing its end when we saw the power lines spanning the water. Was it the hum of electricity and towering symbol of man's interference with Nature that told us so? Not exactly. The lady at Ichetucknee Family Canoe & Cabins told us to call her so she could drive the van over to pick us up at the takeout point nearby.

That's where this story began, with SAM the Saluki man, climbing outta the 'yak. And the river keeps going, flowing freely, past the point where we left it that day.

Mus Maximus Mus(t) Exit(us)

It is easy to find fault, if one has that disposition. There was once a man who, not being able to find any other fault with coal, complained that there were too many prehistoric toads in it.


--from Mark Twain's Pudd'nhead Wilson, excerpt from Pudd'nhead Wilson's Calendar--



I might as well face it. The Year of the Rat is over, and the Year of the Ox is being ushered in and welcomed all over the world. The photo of the rat in the first frame is not my own. I am sure there are rats living somewhere nearby, but I have never seen one yet to be able to take its picture. It would probably escape that fate anyway because I would probably drop the camera and run, not walk, as far away as possible, screaming all the way. Calendars serve many useful purposes: measuring the passage of time, serving as a record of history, reminding us of things we need to accomplish, and making us aware of certain obligations like birthdays and anniversaries. I find it interesting that the Chinese have been keeping track of time far longer than any Western civilization has and have been allowing the lunar cycle to determine the method of time-keeping. Time may be considered not in linear terms but in cyclic ones instead. The course of human history could therefore be seen as contours on an isopach map of the world's history, if such a map only existed. Of course, if it did, you would probably see quite a few eraser marks and blank spots as each new generation tries to adjust the contours of its self-concept onto evidence of previous sedimentary layers. Pictures from a recent visit to the Tallahassee Museum of History and Natural Science may just prove my point, whatever it is. I should warn you that I was born in a Year of the Rat, but rest easy. My cycle is nearing the completion of its circuit. January 26, 2009, on the calendar finds the Ox taking over. If you don't like what this new year has in store, there is no need to worry. It too is only part of a cycle, just like the seasons, climate change, and anything else governed by nature.

I had no idea Florida was once home to a "princess." Those Napoleons were quite the characters for changing the world and their personal fortunes along the way.

The museum property borders a lake and swamp. Bald cypress trees dominate the landscape, bearing all of the accoutrements necessary for survival in a watery environment. I still have not found a definitive explanation for the appearance of knees on some trees and none on others.

Panthers once flourished in Florida, but we know what progress can do for certain species of mammals. Of course, progress appears to follow a cyclic pattern of its own.

One day, these panthers might once more roam freely in Florida instead of being confined to cages at a museum.

Wolves and panthers are outstanding symbols of the cunning required for survival of the fittest.

You can also find the grandest symbol of them all at this American museum in the Deep South. I would probably never be able to capture one on camera sitting this still in the wild, if I were even fortunate enough to see one. The way it kept staring at me staring at it, I began to wonder if it thought it was seeing some kind of prey. Maybe a rat?

Smiling Faces and "Caret" Motives

Now that things appear to have changed for the better in this country, we may be expected to pick up the pace. I am talking about walking instead of driving, taking the stairs and not the elevator, drying clothes on the line, growing our own vegetables; i.e., we must be about the business of making our lives more "green." Does all of this carbon offsetting sound like a lot of work? You bet.



...Alice looked around her in great surprise. "Why, I do believe we've been under this tree the whole time! Everything's just as it was!"
"Of course it is," said the Queen. "What would you have it?"
"Well, in our country," said Alice, still panting a little, "you'd generally get to somewhere else--if you ran very fast for a long time as we've been doing."
"A slow sort of country!" said the Queen. "Now, here, you see, it takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!"



--from Through the Looking-Glass, Chapter II, "The Garden of Live Flowers," by Lewis Carroll--



On our recent trip to visit family in distant homes, we stopped on the way back to our home at a National Seashore site and wildlife refuge near Cape Canaveral. The alligator pictured above immediately attracted our attention, even though it never appeared to move at all. It might seem a little strange for wildlife to be sheltered so near a site laden with TCE (trichloroethylene) and its degradation products such as vinyl chloride. Hubby has been to the Cape before but not as a tourist. He once tracked contaminant plumes in the soil and groundwater there.

"Rockets' red glare" is still seen here occasionally when the shuttle blasts off into space. We may not be in a race with the Russians anymore, but there is much more work to be done in space. Since the economy is in such a meltdown, I wonder where the money will come from to pay for this work?

This building (above) looks a little like a condominium, but it serves a more important purpose than fattening the bank accounts of developers. Can you guess what it is?

We found another building with a lot of history as well as significance for the future close to home. The National Naval Aviation Museum has become a major tourist attraction for NW Florida and serves an important purpose in educating people about naval aviation. Admission is free, so it's a good place to take a large group. Children seem especially impressed with the vast collection of carefully disassembled, restored, and reassembled aircraft and aviation memorabilia.

This type of green-washing would never work for our daughter. Even with a low-flow showerhead, she consumes more water than you would think humanly possible. I wish I could somehow rig up a mandatory one-rain-barrel shower for her. Initiatives seldom seem to work with some consumers, but carefully enforced mandates just might do the trick.

I know these objects are just carets. You know, ^^, empty, lacking things like engines or people to make them fly.

Only imagination can truly take flight in this place. And it does, even for earthbound bloggers who like to walk and then write.

It takes a very large prop to move a ship, and, it appears, even larger props like "carbon offsets" and "RECs" (renewable energy credits) to move a movement. Empty of meaning or purpose, except maybe to enrich some savvy business owners--oops, I mean directors and stakeholders of nonprofit organizations--they have become the watchwords for a new generation of green optimists.

"Though Much is Taken, Much Abides"

Even "the unemployed" find it necessary sometimes to travel roads once familiar and then left behind to visit loved ones, familiar, and now residing in distant "homes."

The unemployed find strength in things like wildflowers on dunes on barrier islands.

An invitation to drive on the beach once again proves too tempting a pleasure to forgo. The slow pace required and the current paucity of visitors on Anastasia Island reminds one that progress is not always an optimal thing or even long-lived.

Structures built to withstand the fury of Atlantic storms, like this hacienda we once referred to as the Hotel California, aspire to great strength and resilience, but they will ultimately not last.

Gaillardia, though, have proven their resilience and ability to withstand the most adverse of conditions.

Starfish find themselves washed ashore sometimes and, if they're lucky enough to not be plucked from their temporary environment, may eventually regain their former comfort and nourishment provided by the sea.

Some objects do not fare so well when the tide returns to claim the space they occupy.

Dunes like the ones on Anastasia Island need protection because they render protection when it is most needed, during hurricane season.

At the end of the day, a peace offering from the sea is held up for inspection and admiration.

Favorite eateries and watering holes still stand as welcome stations on an island once considered home. This former bastion of bacchic sports celebrations, though, seems to be barely holding its own in this season of scarcity. Even the battle between Sooners and Gators does not command the high ticket prices it might have in years past.

The object of a journey to the East Coast of Florida still holds her own in the face of advancing age and retreating cognition. Born in 1917, she has lived through many tough times it would be nice to forget. A son's wife of 29 years, when asked "Who are you?," decides that memory loss, either short- or long-term, is not a blessing, at least as far as humans are concerned. Governors from the Land of Lincoln and their cohorts should take note that history, at least, keeps track of untruths and will never yield to forgetfulness.

...Though much is taken, much abides; and though

We are not now that strength which in old days

Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are--

One equal temper of heroic hearts,

Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

--from Alfred, Lord Tennyson's poem "Ulysses"--