Downed White Pine

This tree gave up its grasp in the last windstorm.

Scary Storm—Part 1

I have a deep psychic need to partake of my long, hot, outdoor soakings in the tub. I can go for as many as five days between bathings, before the craving becomes overpowering, but every three days is definitely preferable. This contemplative need often has me consulting the weather forecast the immediate day after a bath, to determine whether the coming third or fourth night will offer the more clement weather. If neither one promises to be pleasant, I'll bite the bullet and face nature's worse: and bathe on a rainy or a cold night. My impulsive need to soak can find me hunkered down in the hot water during some pretty harsh weather: a frigid 15^o, a heavy rain, during intimidating wind gusts, or with uncomfortably close thunderstorms passing by.

The forecast one recent evening was for sustained winds of over 30 mph, with gusts up to 55. It would have been prudent of me to remain in the protective confines of our underground home, but it'd been five whole days since my last soak and my desire for a bath trumped my better judgment. I fired up the tub's wood stove and danced naked into the storm. I followed on the heels of my wife—who, against her better judgment, had preceded me. She quickly returned to the relative safety of the house. She was sensibly scared off by branches being dislodged from their attachments to overhead trees. Teeth clenched, I headed out.

Once submerged in the hot water—as my body began to feel soothed—my mind began to be submerged in apprehension. Overhead are three huge sycamore trees and one towering white pine. The strong gusts of wind were tossing them around as if they were spring daffodils. They bent menacingly one way and then equally menacingly leaned in the opposite direction, as the powerful gusts whirled around. Branches bashed together, raining pieces of them down, and an occasional loud CRACK off in the woods startled me, destroying any chance of my slipping into my usual mental reverie. I felt very small and defenseless against the elements. I hoped they weren't planning to harm me.

Looking up, I watched a buzzard fly overhead, well above the treetops. I like to watch these large, graceful birds, as they glide effortlessly on wind currents—usually facing into the breeze. With these fierce winds, however, this buzzard had turned tail to the wind and was being pushed along at a high velocity. He appeared more like a black meteor, streaking across the darkening sky.

More stormy weather next time...

Woodpecker Work

This is (I believe) the work of a pileated woodpecker in a pine tree. It's some serious construction for a nest... but why two holes? Could it be a pair of siblings?

Monogamous Dummies

Recent research with fruit flies has demonstrated that polygamous male flies are smarter than monogamous male flies. Scientists aren't sure why yet, but the fascinating question was raised in the article of whether it might also be true of people. (They noted that some fruit fly genetic study results have been found to apply to humans too.) Now, that caught my attention! Being a monogamous dude and valuing being decently intelligent, it made me wonder about my lifestyle. Are men who stay in a faithful relationship less intelligent than their counterparts who play around? The researchers themselves posed this disturbing question (disturbing at least for us guys!).

Biologists studying evolution like to work with flies—especially fruit flies—because they have such short life spans. Within a year or so a scientist can observe several generations and study genetic changes that would require a few hundred years to be observed in humans. Many fascinating discoveries have been made by studying fly genetics. Although some of those results have been applicable to humans, how about this one?

The researchers selectively bred two groups of flies over several generations to become of one or another inclination: one monogamous, the other polygamous. (I wonder how they did that.) After many generations, while comparing the learning skills, it was found that the polygamous male flies were demonstrably smarter—both in finding a mate and in avoiding unpleasant situations. The researchers surmised that a sharper mind locates and mates with a female faster, because it takes a little discernment to locate a receptive female among those who have already conceived and are no longer interested. The monogamous flies—already mated—apparently didn't need those extra smarts.

The study also found another fascinating difference: polygamous male flies did not live as long as their monogamous brethren. Again, the researchers are not sure why, but it has been observed in various species (including humans) that there is an evolutionary cost for being smart: often a shorter life. A more intelligent (and/or larger) brain demands more energy—which can shorten one's life span. It seems that dumb critters can actually live longer.

Further research is certainly called for on this crucial topic—to see if it has any pertinence for humans. It could become a painful choice for a guy to choose to be faithful to one gal and enjoy a longer life (but be stupider) or get smart, play the women, but die sooner. On the other hand, maybe there's no choice to be made... maybe some of us are simply slaves to our genes that force us to become monogamous or polygamous guys. Maybe genetics controls both our sexual drive and our longevity. Is there no free will in this area?

Moon & Venus

December 2012

Lunar Gratitude

I love to gaze upon the nighttime sky when soaking in my outdoor tub—especially on those clear, cold winter nights, when the stars shine brightly and steadily from the black background. Of course, whenever the Moon is in a phase that places it above me on a given night, my attention is drawn from the stars to its far brighter countenance. That happened the other night, as I contemplated it for a couple of contented hours.

There are many moons in our solar system (something over 60, at the latest tally); they have many fascinating stories and are gorgeous in NASA photos. But the Moon is our moon. It's close, it's big, it's constantly changing phase, and it's simply beautiful. I found myself feeling gratitude for our Moon that night—mostly for its loveliness shining down on me—but in the process, several of its other wonderful features came to mind. Let me recount four of them.

I will begin by an appreciation for its beauty. It is thrilling to watch at all times of the year and under all conditions: as it sets, rises, is full, is a luminous sliver, when peeking from behind skittering clouds, when I happen to spot its subtle face in daylight, or when I gaze into its patterns of craters and mares, and imagine many images beyond simply the “Man in the Moon.”

I am also grateful for the Moon's stabilizing influence on Earth's movements. Without our Moon's gravitational sway, the earth would wobble a great deal, as it orbits the Sun. That wobble would prevent Earth from having uniform seasonal changes, which would make our planet a far less habitable orb; in fact, life may never have gotten off the ground here. Our one and only natural satellite does a great deal to help keep our climate unwavering.

Third, the Moon creates a lovely lunar calendar by which we can keep in tune with nature's cycles. Every 29 days or so it completes a cycle, from full to new and back to full again. Every night you can see it in a slightly different part of the sky, in a slightly different phase—slowly circling us every month. The Moon's recurrent period doesn't zip by as fast as the Sun's daily cycle, nor as slow as the year's passing. It's a nice intermediate pace. Its varying phases through the month help me keep track of time. In fact, the Latin root of the word Moon is mensis, which also leads to menstruum, meaning “menses.” Many women's menstrual cycle is in sync with the Moon. In turn, those Latin words derive from another Latin word, metiri, which means “to measure.” Aha! We're back to the Moon as a time keeper!

Finally, the moon's size and distance from us makes its apparent size almost exactly the same as the Sun, and from time to time they play peekaboo and we get the spectacular result of either a lunar or a solar eclipse. It's one of the most thrilling celestial events we get to witness. Even people who rush about their urban business, rarely looking up at the sky, will pause to enjoy an eclipse.

I know that if I could live on some other planet of our solar system, I could watch some pretty spectacular lunar events there, but this planet is my home and I feel blessed to have been gifted with the lunar orb we've got. You go, Moon!

Crescent Earth

We've all seen the crescent Moon. Here's a photo taken by the European Space Agency's spacecraft Rosetta, on its way to investigate a comet. It looked back at our home and took this picture.