Nearly a month went by without any new posts, despite my recent statements about blogging in earnest. I found that teaching writing classes not only involved lots of time grading papers but also focused my interest on writing. I'm actually writing a lot in various journals and notebooks, but was not focusing in the short run on material I wanted to post here. Finally, in the month of July, I managed to resume my average of one post per day for the month. I plan to surpass that volume from here on out. What I post here, combined with my daily writing in journals, is mostly fine-tuning what I hope to publish in a memoir about my experiences in education as student, parent, teacher, supporter and critic.
Meanwhile, I am still available for guiding local nature hikes. Contact me at email@example.com to inquire about rates and parameters of time, distance, and personal needs regarding matters of health and fitness.
I have been teaching since 1965 and have recently joined the English Department as an Associate Faculty member at Feather River College. Recently taught Nature Literature in America and am currently teaching Interpersonal Communication and Basic Reading and Writing.
While driving along curvy Highway 89 at 55 mph, one has to concentrate on staying on the road and out of the river. Not a good way to appreciate nature's details. So, I stop at turnouts or wide shoulders whenever time allows. On last Monday's drive, the blur of brownish dead and dormant shrubs, grasses, and wildflowers, deciduous trees that have dropped their leaves and evergreens, had a sameness about it for several miles. When I stopped and walked around, the details came alive. It was fun to see how many plants I could identify in this stage of life or death. The above photo is a branch of White Alder showing both female (left) and male (right) flowers, the former often called cones and the latter, catkins.
A young Sugar Pine beneath a mature group of Black Cottonwoods. I could find no parent Sugar Pines nearby, so the seeds for this one must have been brought in by an animal or possibly washed down from quite high on the mountain in the background.
A willow branch with many buds waiting to burst early in spring, and possibly an infection of Tongue Fungus.
Another branch of the same willow.
Speeding car or truck, thoroughly buried in the hillside. I was tempted to dig it out, but was afraid I'd find some bodies.