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.
On a cloudy Sunday morning, I am multi-tasking. Snow in my front yard, but just a few hundred yards away, the Crocuses are blooming in front of Patti's Thunder Cafe - formerly known as Morning Thunder. Back at home now, I am writing about John Muir for my summer class Nature Literature in America. The topic at hand is the transition in Americans' views of nature at influenced by Henry David Thoreau, John Muir, and Aldo Leopold. The transitions represented by these three amazing writer/philosophers stretch my mind anew every time I read them. I feel especially fortunate that I can still energetically wander in the woods and couple my reading with close contact with "wild" nature. I can experience the transition from winter to spring by simply walking down the hill from my wintery house to the harbingers of spring at Patti's. Not nearly as dramatic, and certainly not as daring, as Muir's scrambling over a range of 4,000 feet in elevation in a single day, nor my own round-trip hike to the bottom of Grand Canyon and back in a single day, yet sufficient to stir memories and provoke philosophical meanderings.
The Crocuses will be open by this afternoon, the forecast for which is Sunny. The daffodils,
however, will bloom later, maybe after the rains expected later this week. I'm experiencing my physical and mental wanderings in a linear fashion, but am frequently reminded that what is really going on is cyclical. It is also political. I am hopeful that the current political winter we (or I) are experiencing will turn into Spring.