Phenology is the study of periodic plant and animal life
cycle events and how these are influenced by seasonal and
interannual variations in climate.
It turns out that phenology rose to prominence amongst scientists in the early 1700s and then took off as a general pastime in the mid-1800s. What better way to show off your wealth (I’m not so busy that I must always work) and interest in science (I am recording numbers) than to help other scientists track the data underlying the seasons? But then:
The Phenological Reports ended suddenly in 1948 after 58 years, and Britain was without a national recording scheme
for almost 50 years, just at a time when climate change
was becoming evident. During this period, important
contributions were made by individual dedicated observers.
The naturalist and author Richard Fitter recorded the
First Flowering Date (FFD) of 557 species British
flowering plants in Oxfordshire between about 1954 and
1990.
Perhaps it sounds like the pastime simply fell out of fashion, but I think a sudden end to a 200 year tradition of phenology points to a deeper trend: we increasingly live at odds with nature. That is, we prefer to fight the trends of seasons than embrace them. I hear of far more trips to warmer climates in the winter than investments of similar amounts of disposable income on skiing equipment. Why would people stay and investigate the nuances of their own surroundings and seasonal rhythms when they could jet off elsewhere? Given our relatively recent gift of easy and safe global travel, the siren song of the unfamiliar (and warmer) triumphs over lashing yourself to the mast and recording winter’s course.
I’m frequently looking for songs to play that can be described as achingly beautiful. Thankfully, I’ve the perfect example of that today. It’s a song by José González from his 2007 album In Our Nature called Fold.
Mykala and I left the St. Louis Park Costco at sunset this evening. I got 110 servings (10 pounds) of Old Fashioned Quaker Oatmeal for $6.89. With horse-sized servings of cereal in the trunk, we set out for home. As you head into Minneapolis from the west, past the mansions on their faux bluffs just south of 394, your view opens up. Thanks to fortuitous timing, I had a perfect view of hundreds of little birds dotting the sky, on their way to roost. Skeleton trees, not yet pushing nascent leaves into the cold world, looked as though they’d jumped the gun and sprouted big berries: extended families of birds were waiting for sunset in the shelter of the branches.
It’s hard to stop, but when you do, you realize that you are small and everything else is big. This is an important thing to understand.
In Manhattan, the brutally competitive nursery and
kindergarten admissions process is leading many parents
to sign up their toddlers for therapy. “Preschool
admissions tests loom large,” said Margie Becker-Lewin,
an occupational therapist on the Upper West Side. “In
many cases, parents know there is nothing wrong with
their child, but they feel caught in the middle.”
As soon as there’s someone who disagrees, or even just
dithers or can’t decide, conformity is reduced. Some
studies have found conformity can be reduced from highs
of 97% on a visual judgement task down to only 36% when
there is a competent dissenter in the ranks (Allen &
Levine, 1971).
There’s a report from the early 1950s of a
one-ton spill of the stuff. It burned its way through a
foot of concrete floor and chewed up another meter of
sand and gravel beneath, completing a day that I’m sure
no one involved ever forgot. That process, I should add,
would necessarily have been accompanied by copious
amounts of horribly toxic and corrosive by-products: it’s
bad enough when your reagent ignites wet sand, but the
clouds of hot hydrofluoric acid are your special door
prize if you’re foolhardy enough to hang around and watch
the fireworks.
Wash your hands with soap. Do this in the kitchen, not in
the bathroom, even if you just came out of the bathroom.
Even if you spend your entire day submerging your hands
in a sterile bubble, wash your hands in front of your
sweetheart. Do it now.
A comment about that article, from its author: “That post still gets 1500+ hits a month from people searching for variations of “fruit salad recipe.” I get at least 1 email a month from random strangers who appreciated getting more than just a recipe. :)”
RAZ: You were a counselor and you dealt with all kinds of
grief, people who were dealing with it. I mean, you are
writing about a divorce, and you’re essentially revisiting
it over and over and over again, as you tour through the
country.
Do you think as a counselor, you would give somebody this
kind of advice, in a sense, to sort of revisit what
they’ve been through?
Warm, outgoing and prone to the positive, Ms. Eisen has
worked much of her life. Now, she is one of 6.3 million
Americans who have been unemployed for six months or
longer, the largest number since the government began
keeping track in 1948. That is more than double the toll
in the next-worst period, in the early 1980s.