Yet Another Unitarian Universalist
A postmodern heretic's spiritual journey.
This lovely example of a Pink Lady’s Slipper (Cypripedium acaule) was just off the trail in some conservation land near our apartment. This is one of the flowers I missed most during out thirteen year stay in California, so it was especially good to see one my first spring living back in Massachusetts.
This afternoon, Eco Fest took place on Cohasset Common, right across the street from First Parish in Cohasset. Four of us — Ngoc, Matt, Carol, and I — staffed a table where kids could make seed bombs.
(What’s a seed bomb, you ask? Make a thin wafer, maybe two inches in diameter, out of some air-dry clay. Put a pinch of potting soil in the middle, add a dozen or so seeds, then fold the clay up around the seeds and soil to make a little ball. That’s a seed bomb. You can toss it anywhere. The clay holds in moisture, and the soil provides a medium so the seeds can begin sprouting.)
Our seed bombs were made with seeds from native plants. When older kids made seed bombs with us, we explained about the importance of native plants, and how native plants can attract a wider diversity of pollinators. Ngoc had a cool book with photos of 50 or so native pollinators, which I showed to kids, pointing out pictures of my favorite native pollinators — metallic green bees (genus Agapostemon).
We had a constant stream of kids coming to our booth, so I never even got to visit any other booths. But I could see there were some interesting groups present. In addition to commercial vendors, I saw booths staffed by the Cohasset High School Green Team, the North and South Rivers Watershed Association, a group providing recycling information, the Cohasset Garden Club, and more. I’m already looking forward to next year.
Another worthy citizen science project…. Here in New England, the Native Plant Trust trains people to be Plant Conservation Volunteers (PCVs) for the New England Plant Conservation Program (NEPCoP):
“PCVs support professional botanists and State Heritage Programs by gathering vital data in the field. Across the six states of New England, PCVs conduct field monitoring, seed collection, and habitat management. PCVs now number in the hundreds, but as native plant habitats face mounting stresses, we need even more passionate volunteers to help save New England’s native plants.”
There’s a species of seaweed that grows along the coast here in Cohasset with the scientific name Ulva intestinalis; so named because it looks like intestines. A common English name for it is Gutweed, though I’d rather call it Intestine seaweed.
Anyway, it’s one of my favorite seaweeds. How could I not like something that looks like little green intestines?
Today while walking in the Attleboro Springs Audubon Sanctuary, I saw Jacks-in-the-pulpit (Arisaema triphyllum) in bloom. The dramatic striped spathe shelters a spadix on which the flowers are born. This is one of my favorite native flowers — we used to grow them when we lived in the rental share in Concord center — and seeing their blooms today prompted me to learn a little more about them.
According the Extension service of North Carolina State State University, individual Arisaema triphyllum plants can change between male and female from year to year: “This unique plant, which is pollinated by flies and gnats, has the ability to change gender. A plant that starts out as male can spontaneously change to female the next year and vice versa. …”
Or, according to another source, first year plants only produce male flowers; then the plant becomes hermaphroditic, producing both male and female flowers. In any case, as is so often true, our stereotypical human norms around gender and biological sex being determined from birth do not apply to all organisms (the stereotypes don’t even always apply to human organisms).
A fascinating plant. Makes me want to start growing Arisaema triphyllum again.
Over the past year and a half, I’ve slowly been learning a little about botany. One of the most amazing things I’ve learned is that somewhere around one third of all plants in the wild are not native where I live here in Massachusetts. And along suburban streets, most of the plants I see are not only non-natives, they are cultivated by humans. The problem with non-native plants is that they do not fit into the existing ecosystem — they may not support native pollinators, or feed native birds, or provide food or shelter for mammals and other animals. The suburbs may look like a green landscape, but in many ways it’s a sterile green landscape.
So I was pleased to discover the “Grow Native Massachusetts” website, which provides resources for people who want to grow native plants. The tag line of the website sums it up: “Every landscape counts.” If you plant your tiny little 1/8 acre yard with native plants, you’ll be helping pollinators and birds. Heck, if you plant a container garden with native plants on the balcony of your apartment, you’ll be helping native pollinators.
Carol and I went for a day trip to Cape Cod. The first place we went was Sandy Neck in Barnstable. As we walked from the parking lot to the beach, someone said, “Are you here for the whales?”
About 80 North Atlantic Right Whales have been hanging out around Cape Cod. The Cape Cod Canal has been closed once or twice because one or more whales have entered it — a primary cause of North Atlantic Right Whale mortality is vessel strikes. Since there are only about 370 of these whales left in the whole world, it’s worth closing the canal to keep them safe.
We didn’t see any whales, so we walked up the marsh side of Sandy Neck, where we saw the carcass of a pilot whale that had died on the bay side and had been hauled over to this side to rot. After an hour of walking, we crossed back over to the beach. When the ocean came in view, I got my binoculars and started to scan for whales. Almost immediately, I saw two — no, three of them — just at the limit of visibility, where the ozone started to blur things.
Just as I told Carol, one of the whales breached. Given the visibility and the distance, mostly what I saw was the huge black mass of its body coming up out of the water, the water foaming white around it, and what looked like white patches on one side of the animal’s body — right whales do have white markings on their bellies. Carol got her binoculars up in time to see the huge splash it made when it re-entered the water.
We watched for a while longer. We could see the surging water around the whales, and maybe we glimpsed a sight of the black heads. Then they disappeared. Maybe we saw them for 60 seconds, or even two minutes — not a long time, but a very memorable time.
I was out for a walk at dusk in nearby Wheelwright Park, and heard a strange sound coming from a nearby tree — a sort of whiny “cheep” kind of sound. I looked up, and there was a juvenile Great Horned Owl about 10 meters up.
The fading light made it hard to see much, but the bird appeared to have well-developed flight feathers. The prominent ear tufts which are characteristic of adult Great Horned Owls were just starting to form. And the plumage was a lighter color than adult plumage. So my guess is that this was a young owl out for one of its first forays from the nest.
As I stood watching it — and trying to take photos with my smartphone — I thought I heard another owl cheeping from a tree farther away. It seems like there were two young owls out trying out their new wings.
This Twitter thread tells about one of my favorite bookstores anywhere: Renaissance Books in the Milwaukee International Airport (MKE). It’s unbelievable to find a used bookstore in an airport. On top of which, they stock a deeply eccentric collection of books, as noted by the author of the Twitter thread.
I particularly appreciate their wide selection of mid-twentieth century pulp novels. I was just in MKE a week and a half ago, and bought a 1960s paperback reprint of Ian Fleming’s thriller Casino Royale from 1953. Casino Royale, the first James Bond novel, is a wonderful example of mid-twentieth century pulp fiction: you simply can’t believe the amount of sexism and implicit racism, the plot creaks, and there are weird dominance and submission games going on throughout the novel. It reveals the strange paranoiac Zeitgeist of the 1950s better than any history book. But I digress.
Basically, it’s a bookstore that should not exist. So it kind of feels like Spider Robinson’s fictional Callahan’s Crosstime Saloon, except that it’s not a fictional place. Here are some key excerpts from the Twitter thread to explain:
“On my way home from Milwaukee yesterday I did a triple take when I saw an ancient used book store, IN THE AIRPORT!!! I felt like I walked through a portal to a world where everything was a little bit cooler. I was so enthralled I went up to the register and was like ‘hey, I’m fascinated by this place, can we chat?’ A man with an orange hat, orange glasses, and an orange shirt pushed aside his laptop and said ‘oh, heavens yes.’ His name is Orange Mike, and he’s worked here since 1979. Every employee of the shop, including Orange Mike, makes exactly ‘8.125 dollars’ an hour to keep this place going. They are also all in their 60s. Orange Mike himself comes from the local pen & paper community, and used to review games for Dragon magazine. The stock here is eclectic and weird and not remotely curated. Half of it is giant history books that have probably been here since the 80s….
“The store’s existence comes down to the airport taking bids from local bookstores to occupy the space, and accidentally including used bookstores in the list. The owner shrugged and submitted the high bid. The airport tried to stop it but after six months of legal spats failed…. This store just shouldn’t exist. The airport doesn’t want them there, it makes no revenue, they have a hard time moving product, and all of its underpaid employees are at retirement age. And yet it persists. AT A MAJOR AIRPORT. I am blown away by this place existing. If you’re ever at MKE, go check it out while you can. It seems like something way too good for this world, which means it may not be there next time if you skip it.”
I spent four hours at Renaissance Books one day last year, due to travel plan complications. That bookstore turned what was an otherwise unbearable trip into something almost enjoyable. I was so grateful that now every time I’m in MKE (which is not very often), I spend as much money there as I can (the limitation always being: How many books can I fit in my carry-on luggage?).
