Alina's Adventures

Unicorn story frame.

Print and share with a a friend or child- the kind of person who knows you need a unicorn story inside.

Tiny treasures along the way.

We wear the moist heat like a Victorian corset while hoping it doesn't destroy the life from which its is broken. 

Last week's angry thistle is this week's burnt carcass. Seeing the dessicated remains of flowers and plants in our yard and garden reminds me that we cannot water them all- not yet, not ever.

Micah's magnolia, unlike our neighbors, boasted its first flowers this year. Now they are burnt and brown. 

We clean up after ourselves. We invest in sweetly-scented solutions. The perfumes cover the fragrance of the funeral parlor. The disasters of my kitchen sink are not distracting enough.

The swimming holes at Hurricane Creek.

Eighteenth Street reminds me of the swimming holes at Hurricane Creek- some which can be reached by foot, others by car, and most by canoe. There's nothing like a swimming hole- nothing at all. Swimming pools lack the historical context and the immersion in local ecology- the sounds of birds chirping and water rushing over stones.

Max and Micah pet a puppy taking his first dip at Hurricane Creek Park.

Between 1932 and 1942 the rivers that split and ran through Wichita were sweet and clean and perfect for swimming. For my money, the best swimming hole of all was on the east bank of the Little River at about Eighteenth Street.

There was a small beach that eased into the water. You could wade to any depth you chose. The main channel near the west bank was the deepest spot. The riverbank behind the beach was steep and thickly covered by bushes and clumps of willows and a heavy stand of cane….

Adults came to Eighteenth Street, too. They were, for the most part, women with children too young to swim. The mothers would wade in wearing their dresses, holding their children’s hands. Grown men would roll up the legs of their overalls and stand in the cool water. Most of the swimming garb was catch-as-catch-can. In a nation and city of poor people, we generally represented the poorest of the poor. Under certain circumstances, even underwear was all right.
The water on Eighteenth Street was always warm and friendly and inviting. You had to go deep in the main channel to find a cold current. A crude diving platform was nailed twenty feet up into a huge cottonwood tree right on the edge of the river. A heavy rope swing hung down from a limb just below it.

No one was in charge at the Eighteenth Street swimming club. Actually, it wasn’t even a club. It was more like a hobo jungle. A calm, quiet, secret place where anyone could find soft breezes, cool water, silky sand, and a haven from the rough, raw edges of reality.

—from “The Last Best Swimming Hole” by Patric Rowley in The Great North American Prairie (Stories from Where We Live). Minneapolis: Milkweed Editions, 2001.

A sneak peak of the University of Alabama Herbarium.

Laurie and I had the opportunity to sit down and chat with John Clark and Steve Ginzbarg about plant life at Hurricane Creek on Friday. What began as a discussion about a bioblitz extended into a chat about education, orchids, exotic Colombian plants, and a little trip to the fascinating UA Herbarium.

The first room included a coffee pot, tables, references, and stations for mounting various plants onto special paper. It looked as if a few aged samples were being re-mounted or salvaged.

A possible salvage operation at the herbarium.

Then we passed through another heavy door into a room filled with freezers of various shapes and sizes. Plant samples are placed in the freezer for two weeks to kill any damaging bugs, bacteria, or prey that can destroy the plants. There was also a special freezer with -82 degree temperature which is used to store plant DNA.

Steve Ginzbarg opens a freezer in the freezer room.

Then Steve took out a special key and opened the door to the mammoth room where all the plant samples reside.

Shelves and shelves lined with jars containing snakes, amphibians, and various reptiles.

One turtle among many.

The plants are stored in files on movable shelves. Can you imagine how many plants must be housed here?

The collections include extremely rare and endangered plant species. The orchids are especially interesting due to their status as a source of international crime rings and theft.

This orchid was collected by John Mohr long ago.

The men under the pecan tree.

Mrs. Liddell knew how to tell a good tale. Here is a historical ditty about how the Presbyterian church put an end to the practice of "telephoning for catfish":

The men under the pecan tree never tire of talking about hunting, fishing, dogs, and whatever game is in season. Here is where they bring their turkey beards for comparison, bring in their fox tails, their deer, their biggest catches of fish, the longest rattlesnake, the biggest bobcat, often taking pictures for further proof.

When it was discovered that sending an electric current generated by an old crank-type telephone, into the water would cause the scaleless fish, stunned by the shock, to surface and they could then easily be caught and hauled into boats, fishermen went wild catching catfish by, as they called it, "telephoning for them".

When strangers dropped by the pecan tree, the men had no end of fun betting them that they could catch a boatload of fish merely be telephoning them to come up out of the water. Many bets were made and lost, always to the consternation of the newly initiated. But as the news spread, the method of thus catching catfish was so abused that, in time, it was outlawed.

But the practice did not subside, the pecan-sitters say, until the deacons of the Presbyterian church had caught all the catfish in the river for church suppers, and all their generators had been dumped overboard to destroy evidence.

(V. Liddell, A Place of Springs, p.141)

 

Robert Sloan's oil pastel pecan tree can be found online.

Viola Goode Liddell A resident of Alabama's Black Belt for nearly all of her life, Viola Goode Liddell (1901-1998) recounted the stories of many Wilcox County residents, including her own, in three memoirs. These works tell the story of her home and, through her own life experiences, the story of the South during the Great Depression, the civil rights movement, and into the 1970s. Liddell also published several short stories and a book of poems.

Viola Jefferson Goode was one of nine children of Robert and Annie (Gaston) Goode and was born on December 18, 1901, in Gastonburg, Wilcox County. The town had been named for her maternal grandfather, David Finis Gaston. After high school graduation at age 16, Viola followed in the tradition of her older sisters, attending Judson College in Marion, Perry County. She graduated in 1922 and married Oxford Stroud. The couple lived briefly in Demopolis, Marengo County, where Viola gave birth to their son (and future Auburn University professor and literary figure) Oxford Stroud Jr. Soon after, the family moved to Albuquerque, New Mexico. Her father, apparently having misgivings about her newly chosen spouse, handed Viola $100 as train fare home if the marriage ended badly. Indeed, in 1931, Goode divorced Stroud and moved with her son to Linden, Marengo County, where she taught French. The following year, they settled in Camden, Wilcox County, the birthplace of her father and the residence of her oldest sister, Mary, whom she called Mamie.

(Excerpted from Encyclopedia of Alabama)

The Wonderful Caddis Worm: Sculptural Work in Collaboration with Trichoptera.

Since the early 1980s, artist Hubert Duprat has been utilizing insects to construct some of his "sculptures." By removing caddis fly larvae from their natural habitat and providing them with precious materials, he prompts them to manufacture cases that resemble jewelers' creations. Information theory, as explained by biologists such as Jacques Monod and Henri Atlan, helps us understand what seems to be the insect's aesthetic behavior. The activities of the caddis worm, as manipulated by Hubert Duprat, are prompted by the "noise"---beads, pearls and 18-karat gold pieces---introduced by the artist into the insect's environment. Learn more online.

Wood for good.

A contest to use tornado-felled timber for good. Register today.

Free podcasts from the Enoch Pratt Free Library.

I first heard of the Enoch Pratt Free Library in a small book about HL Mencken. Supposedly, it was one of his favorite nooks in the world. It might become one of mine, as well. After scouring their free podcasts, what follows are the most savory findings of my virtual feast. 

Chuck Palahniuk reads from his novel, Pygmy.
Gary Marcus talks about his book, Kluge, and the "haphazard construction of the human mind".
A smorgasborg of fairy tales about food. 
Fairy tales about dragons from the Fairy Tale Festival.
Ralph Nader talks about his latest book. 
Sandra Steingraber talks about how chemicals have become a family matter. 
An hour with Andrei Codrescu, reading, talking, barking. I miss him on NPR.
Truth and Reconciliation: A podcast about peace in a community.
Congresswoman Barbara Lee tells her story. 

Next on the list- free audiobooks.

Making a water filter.

Yesterday's experiment evolved from a little reading and a few moments of peace in which Grand Bon-Bon was not fretting about one facet of his 95 years of life or another. These days I feel as if my ability to be involved in my children's lives has been limited by my grandfather's incessant worries, concerns, and frustrations.

Being 95 is not easy and, unfortunately, some who live to this ripe old age consider it a curse rather than a blessing. I suppose there are lessons to be learned from this as well, including the fact that being a critical, "problem-solving" type person is tolerable and even "successful" when you are young and middle-aged but quite painful and miserable when you reach the twilight of life. I am reminded daily of the importance of seeing the beauty in life- not the beauty in what you have created (because at 95, there isn't much you can "create" anymore) but the beauty in what is created.

On that note, Max and Micah cooperated in this ultimately-awesome experiment to create a water filter.

Max chose his own "ingredients" and added them in the order above. The book suggested using cotton and blotting paper, but Max ruled in favor of an "all-natural filter".

Now all he needed was muddy water. So he went over to the garden and picked a fistful of red clay dirt which he then mixed with water and added to a bowl.

At first, the muddy water didn't go through the filter at all. Max discovered that he would need a faster flow, so he moved from pouring muddy water from a small bowl to pouring muddy water from a bucket.

After a few tries, it was Micah who delivered the shout of glory, "It's WORKING!". Sure enough, the water was clear as day- Max's homemade filter was strong enough to remove even red Alabama dirt clay from the mix. I didn't get a photo because life intervened, but the filter worked perfectly and helped us visualize the role of a stream as a water filter in an ecosystem.

You can find more fun water experiments and ideas in this book.

Dad and Micah at the gardens.

From earlier this month, a moment between Dad and Micah at the community gardens. It's funny how Micah resembles Carla in so many ways.

I'm trying to soothe rustled snow peas while Grand Bon-Bon, my grandfather, prepares to offer a calvalcade of advice usually centered on the theme of female incompetence. I'm so glad times have changed. Or have they?

17 printables for local ecology in Tuscaloosa.

1. Endangered Species in Tuscaloosa County -Descriptions, photos, and habitats. Go on a hunt. (Friends of Hurricane Creek)
2. Alabama Longleaf Pine Tech Team Restoration Brochure - Get involved in local attempts to restore longleaf pines. (Longleaf Pine Alliance)
3. How to Make A Rebec Fiddle - At least once in your life, find some reclaimed wood and make a fiddle. (Google Archives)
   
4. What Plants Need - A nature journal page. (Friends of Hurricane Creek)
5. A Little Water Drop- A nature journal page. (Friends of Hurricane Creek)
6. Frog Life Cycle Wheel (Woodland Trust)
7. Animal Tracks Identification Guide (StudyWorks Online)
8. Forever Wild Facts - Information about Alabama's Forever Wild Program. (Alabamians for Forever Wild)
9. Groundwater: The Hidden Resource- A poster with an awesome illustration about groundwater. (USGS)
10. How to Make A Rain Barrel (Alabama Environmental Council)
11. Alabama Trees Activity (Alabama 4-H Center)
12. Botany Scavenger Hunt (Ellen J McHenry)
13. Stream Habitat Walk Worksheet (EPA Office of Water)
14. Stick Painting Activity (Sequoia Riverlands Trust)
15. Ecology by Inquiry - The coolest thing you've ever seen. (Kathyrn Kelsey and Ashley Steele)
16. EnviroInfo: Volunteer Leaders' Resources (Alabama Cooperative Extension Services)
17. Blue Sky Green Earth Art Competition- It's not a printable, but it earns extra points for creativity. (Waste Pro, Birmingham)

Sail hard, die old: A podcast with two guys who sail for a living.

Scroll down to the bottom of the page for a podcast with two sailors who love what they do and do just what they love.

Kevin and Michael take it easy on the way out from Key West.

Michael catches beautiful food.

Unidentified lady and three sailors enjoy Key West.

Sail Hard, Die Old- An Interview with Two Sailors

Sail Hard, Die Old (mp4)

You can touch base with Kevin Gray on his Facebook Page, Pray4Wind.

Topographic map-making.

Learning about our local watershed has made topographic maps a fascinating journey of discovery and art. Though most are made on computer now, Max wanted to try and draw his own topos. It's a great way to incorporate mathematical visualization and geometry in everyday learning with kids.

So go on out into your backyard and make a topographic map. Or take a walk through the neighborhood and create a neighborhood topo- I bet neighbors would love a copy. It truly demonstrates the concept of a watershed for kids and adults, as you can see where puddles and runoffs tend to form and how they are distributed.

Topographic symbols

Earth contours on a topographic map

Relief shading details

Topographic map vegetation shading details

Topographic map water shading details

O is for owl.

Last night, we spent some time chatting with the owl that currently inhabits the woods behind our house. He was especially eager to converse with Patrick, though less interested in what the girls and I had to say. Naturally, the owl came up again this morning when I found Micah and Milla "hooting" at each other.

Max believed he could identify the type of owl by its song, which led him to the opinion that it was a tawny owl. But science is never so simple, so I asked him to consult our bird guides and make an inventory of the owl species which live or visit in our area. Reluctantly, he agreed. 

Hypothesis: We have a tawny owl in our woods, and we know this by his song.

Investigation: There are several species of owls which live in Alabama.
1. Barn owl
2. Eastern screech owl 
3. Great horned owl
4. Barred owl 
5. Short-eared owl 

To narrow down the possibilities, we looked at specific habitats for each owl. The short-eared owl, which is of conservation concern, seemed unlikely because its habitat is grasslands and open fields. The barn owl also seemed unlikely as its habitat is more specific than our little woods.

The Eastern screech owl doesn't fit the criterion because it's song sounds nothing like the "Who HOO who HOO" we witnessed last night. The screech owl has a tremulous, descending wail with soft purrs and trills.  The call is not a screech but rather a soft, mournful whinny that can be heard most often in the fall and spring months of the year.

 The Eastern screech owl can be found in open deciduous woods, wood lots, suburban areas, lake shores, and old barns.  Roosting during the day in hollow trees where it sits facing the bright daylight, Otus asio can see in the brightest daylight but prefers to remain hidden in dark corners of old buildings or other dark areas for protection.  When discovered during the daylight hours, it often freezes in an upright position relying on cryptic coloration to escape detection. (Alabama Dept. of Conservation and Natural Resources)

To me, it seems like our friend can be identified as one of the following which, interestingly enough, do not coexist in the same habitats due to the fact that one preys on the other.

The Great horned owl has many characteristics which fit those of our hooting friend. Great horned owls are found in a wide array of forested habitats, including dense woodlands. They spend most of the day perched in a protected area or tree and do most of their hunting at night, but may be active at any time during the day.  They are solitary birds of prey that form strong pair bonds during the courting and nesting season only.  They typically use abandoned nests of other large birds such as hawks, herons, and crows.  They have also been known to nest in hollow trees, abandoned buildings, and various other structures.  Typical nests in Alabama are found high in pine or other evergreen trees.

Great horned owls, like many owls, sit quietly in a tree watching for movement and listening for sounds that give away the presence of a prey species.  After locating a prey item, great horned owls take flight and silently swoop down and capture the prey with their sharp talons. Adaptations in their feathers allow them to fly silently through the night air. 

Great horned owls eat a wide variety of prey including rabbits, squirrels, mice, rats, ducks, birds, and larger animals such as geese and an occasional turkey.  They may even prey on other raptors such as owls, osprey, and falcons.  Great horned owls are the only animal to regularly eat skunks.  Small prey species are swallowed whole while larger prey is ripped into smaller pieces that can be swallowed.  Indigestible items such as hair, bones, feathers, and fur are regurgitated in pellets. (Alabama Dept. of Conservation and Natural Resources)

The Barred owl seems a likely candidate for our backyard friend:

Barred owls are most commonly found in deep woodlands (hardwood, coniferous, or mixed), bottomland hardwood tracts, and swamps.  These owls do, however, range widely over adjacent open areas while hunting.  Barred owls have adapted to living near man and are regularly found in small but dense patches of woodland near houses or farms.  Barred owls are notably more common in areas of mature to over-mature hardwood timber.  These areas better provide the open midstory and understory characteristics the owls seem to prefer for hunting and are much more likely to contain the large tree cavities favored for nesting. Barred owls are almost never found in habitats harboring populations of great horned owls (Bubo virginianus) who are one of their few predators other than man. (Alabama Dept. of Conservation and Natural Resources)

Color a party owl.

Get inspired by this gorgeous owl to make your own. All you need is paper and a set of markers. Sketch and color. Or whip out the paints. Hat tip to Teacher Bits and Bobs for the image.

Wright's Restaurant is all that's left of Alberta City.

Wright's Restaurant, a Coryell favorite.

As Alberta City continues its struggle to rebuild and recover from the 2011 tornadoes, we find one local legend holding strong amid the rubble. Wright's Restaurant continues its tradition of low-cost, Southern soul food for breakfast and lunch. $5 will buy a plate with one meat and three veggies accompanied by corn bread or roll. The menu changes daily to make way for the most savory plates.

Wright's is located at 927 26th Ave E in Tuscaloosa, AL 35404. Give them a call to see what's on the daily menu at (205) 553-0694. You can order take-out, though the diner environment is very family-friendly.

A rat snake in our yard.

Yesterday afternoon, the grass looked calm. One could even overlook the slight trembling of blades, the soft rustle. But the slithering- that undulating motion that usually indicates a snake- was unmistakable. There was a snake in our front yard!

Fortunately, just around the munchkins werel screaming, "Snake!", neighbors strolled by and seemed to be interested in the action. A neat gentleman crossed the grass and bent down to pick up the snake.

"It's a rat snake", he said.

"Oh, I know about those," Max replied confidently.

Apparently, rat snakes are medium to large constrictors that feed mainly on rodents (hence the name) and birds. Smaller species, like this one, which looked to measure about 5 ft. make nice pets.  According to wikipedia, "other species can be very skittish and sometimes aggressive but bites are seldom serious. As with nearly all colubrids, rat snakes pose no threat to humans. Rat snakes were long thought to be completely nonvenomous, but recent studies have shown that some Old World species do possess small amounts of venom (amounts so small as to be negligible to humans)".

My guess is that our friend was a Elaphe obsoleta spiloides, or Gray rat snake. According to the Alabama Dept. of Conservation and Natural Resources, the gray rat snake:

Occurs in most kinds of terrestrial habitats but attains greatest densities in areas where forests and farmland are generally intermixed and small rodents are relatively abundant.  Skillful climbers, rat snakes ascend trees or rafters of buildings in search of birds, eggs and mice.  They may nest high in tree cavities, a position that may reduce mortality from fire ants and other ground-foraging predators.

Apparently, they are mostly nocturnal, but our friend seems to have chosen a change of scene.

After showing us the underside of the rat snake's head, the gentleman said he probably wouldn't hurt anyone but that it might be wise for him to drop our snake friend off in a wooded area up the street. And then the rat snake and the gentleman were gone.

Shame on me for learning the name of the snake without learning the name of the snake charmer.

Milla prepares for bed.

Perhaps the Mills has been reading my 19th century frontier books with special sections about bedtime bonnets and "nightcaps" for ladies. Last night, she clearly indicated her readiness for bed when Patrick and I discovered her posed on the couch wearing a bonnet and sunglassses. Where she found this costume, or how she pieced it together, I haven't the slighest clue.

Patrick and I couldn't stop laughing, but Milla didn't bat an eye. Apparently, she was waiting to be photographed because as soon as we took a few photos, she removed her glasses and bonnet and held out her hand to walk to our bedroom.

Love letter #35: String gardens.

Leave it to string to turn my day into a weaving, twisted, knotty joy. Trying to find the best support for our Atlanta-born snow peas, I was inspired by a fellow community-gardener's beautiful string scaffold. But when I went online to search for "string" and "garden", I entered a different dimension of gardening.

Inspiration comes in spurts. But this dimesion of cool creativity is a mouse-click away. Look, learn, and play.

Kokedama string garden how-to (Craftzine)

 

Suspended string garden (Apartment Therapy)

Coconut husk hanging plant (Dale Mackey)

Hanging moss garden how to (Dale Mackey)

Alternate use for a mud puddle #74.

Scooping and dumping, Milla-style. Woe to the critter who tries to stop this learning play midway.

A lesson about the Philippines.

Micah holds her special woven fan, which she claimed almost immediately.
It suits her Eurasian eyes, doesn't it?

The best way to learn about other countries is to travel. The second best way is to learn from those who have lived there. We are lucky enough to visit the Philippines vicariously thanks to the Garcia family. As we flipped through the mysterious treasures in the envelope, Max read to us from the booklet which provided history and context for each item. Here's what we learned.

Max reads aloud from the accompanying booklet.

We know that the citizens of the Philippines are wise enough to have had female leaders in their history. As Americans, we are still working on developing that kind of wisdom. 

We also know that there are cool beetles and special saints honored by many Filipinos.

Max holds up the flag of the Philippines.

A popular game is called "sapa". Much like foozeball or hackey-sack, you keep a "ball" in the air with your feet. Only this "ball" is not a ball at all.

The mango balls were a hit. Everyone loved them, including Milla who cried for more.

We haven't used our banana ketchup yet. We've decided to keep it until we get a family vote on the best way to use it.

Max read this book aloud to the girls, which took quite a bit of time because Micah kept asking questions and Max kept gettting distracted by the Filipino words on the other pages. It was awesome to see the language at work and to be able to compare it alongside English words. 

Our package is going out next week, so all those families waiting to learn about Romania can learn one of the most common cultural facts about Romanians right away- people haven't mastered the art of the deadline or the rush. Please forgive us for being "tardy"- we promise we'll make up for it.

A free EP is fine by me.

Songs From the Watershed is the name of the new EP from The Story Of, a progressive pop band from Austin. And you can download it online for free right here. 

A flurry of thoughts and a moon so vivid I could skip it like a stone over a puddle.

It's late, and the weekend's chaos is winding down. After leading my poor family, including the usual suspects plus Grand Bunicu and Bunicu (who are visiting from Ohio) and Carla and Lesse (visiting from Homewood), on a wild goose chase across Tuscaloosa, we grilled some meat and corn and settled down to discuss the lack of contextual basis for "honor" in our culture while I burned mix CDs for my dad. 

Originally, the day began with a plan to do a little creek cleaning at Binion Creek as part of the Northriver Watershed Festival. But we arrived too late. And then I decided we needed to visit Hurricane Creek in Brookwood. But we never found a piece of public land from which to access the creek. Sometimes the adventure takes the guise of a failure in which grumbles and complaints (Carla is the only one who didn't join the chorus) chip away at our ability to appreciate the mere fact of being able to wander around looking for a spark. For wanderlusty girls like me, the wandering itself scratches an itch. 

A flower Micah picked for me on our stroll today.

Lately, the days roll by faster than I can name them- certainly too rapidly to sit down and claim them by poring over salient details. It is not for lack of action that this reporter-of-the-quoitidien has been absent from her usual perch. So very much has happened, and continues to happen.

Just today, I read Rev. Fred Hammond's post about his recent experiences while protesting the shameful HB 56 anti-immigrant law currently on the books in Alabama. Fred's compassion and love for his fellow humans offers solace in these grim times. It is so easy to walk around Tuscaloosa and ignore the fact that there are fewer Latinos in public spaces- that houses which used to be occupied by large families are suddenly vacant, that swathes of faces have disappeared from our daily lives. It is easy to pretend that everything is fine- their misfortune, after all, doesn't directly impigne on our daily routines. But such chosen ignorance is a crime of spiritual negligence and willful neglect.

He [Gov. Bentley] said the law enjoys widespread support in spite of protests. "We are not going to repeal our anti-illegal immigration law," he said.

Gov. Robert Bentley, who signed the law, said that when he was a doctor in Tuscaloosa, he never asked people if they were legal or illegal, but protesters must follow the law.

"If they read what I read in the Bible, the Bible says you always obey the law," he told reporters while attending a National Day of Prayer observance. 

(Source: Tuscaloosa News)

Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrestled with these same ideas living under Nazi Germany, a democracy in which the law relegated Jews to the status of sub-humans and a systematic policy to remove them was the law of the land. Today, churches celebrate Bonhoeffer as a conscientious objector to the evils of the Nazi regime- a man who broke unjust and cruel laws. But we fail to see parallels between the past and the present because such parallels are disturbing, inconvenient, and obviously "not the same". 

This country was founded on the breaking of laws. Fred correctly observes that the Boston Tea Party and similar events in American history were characterized by conscience disregard for the laws of the time. The civil rights movement, one of our triumphs as a nation promising "freedom and justice for all", occurred precisely because many conscience-driven Americans chose to disregard an unjust and cruel law.

Fred also notes that Gov. Bentley's very own faith tradition- that of the Baptist denomination- was founded in law-breaking:

His own faith as a Baptist came about because people of conscience disobeyed the law. It was illegal to be of any other faith than Anglican when John Smyth declared his Baptist faith. But if Governor Bentley is correct that the Bible says you always obey the law, then his own faith is illegal, twice over because John Smyth broke the English law decreeing the Church of England as the one faith and the Church of England broke the law when it severed ties with the Roman Catholic Church over the doctrine of divorce–another law that according to Bentley’s argument must be obeyed. Remember that church law and civil law were one and the same in the time of the reformation. There was no separation of church and state.

The context of Romans 13 which Bentley refers also includes Romans 13: 6 and following: “This is also why you pay taxes, for the authorities are God’s servants, who give their full time to governing. Give to everyone what you owe them: If you owe taxes, pay taxes; if revenue, then revenue; if respect, then respect; if honor, then honor. Let no debt remain outstanding, except the continuing debt to love one another, for whoever loves others has fulfilled the law. The commandments, ‘You shall not commit adultery,’ ‘You shall not murder,’ ‘You shall not steal,’ ‘You shall not covet,’ and whatever other command there may be, are summed up in this one command: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ Love does no harm to a neighbor. Therefore love is the fulfillment of the law.”

But love, while wonderful as an object of lip service, is certainly impractical as a matter of public policy. Being all-knowing, our God will surely forgive us if we can't take his injunctions seriously because, as He knows, that stuff sounds good in books but just doesn't make much sense in real life. Tomorrow is Sunday. How many local pastors, preachers, rabbis, reverends, or faith leaders will speak about the unspeakable in our midst- the law that punishes those who wish to be Americans for not having enough money to game the process or not having enough power to squeeze through the tiny allotted quota? How many will elect to direct attention to the tornados of past rather than confront the one brewing right in our midst?

My ulcer means sprinkler time.

Trying to figure out what is going on with my stomach these days means that I have to sit on the coach, an awful predicament for one who doesn't do the "sitting" part very well (and never has). On the other side of the rainbow, however, lies the rich "Hundred year rain" (as Max called it) that came down today to nuzzle the plants and trees. 

And then there was the secret sprinkler time the kids scored while mom curled up in a fetal position.

It looks like the Pepto and Nexium are beginning to work a little, so tommorow will include some fun at the Northriver Watershed Festival.

I have to admit that having my sister drive down and hang out with me, cook for me, boss my kids around a bit, and just be her awesome, loving self almost made this rough tummy time worthwhile.

Taking Vanilla and Ratpaw for a short canoe excursion along Hurricane Creek.

We had planned to go floating with Carla on Saturday, but nothing went according to plan. So when Patrick finished mowing the lawn yesterday and I noticed that paddle-hungry glint in his eye, we threw the lifejackets into the spaceship and set out for Waston's Bend.

Milla cooed and commented on every fish that passed us by as we paddled.

But Vanilla refused to get out of the van, so we called Gary and told him that Vanilla decided he wanted some father-son time paddling the creek today. Poor Ratpaw was planning to sit, relax, and make an egg salad. Instead, he climbed into the van to accompany us on our adventure.

We got out at Watson's Bend and loaded up two canoes for a paddle down to Roman Nose swimming hole. The entire crew got out to wade, waddle, dip, swim, and splash in the stream.

Max cleans out his shoes while Vanilla and Ratpaw get a sense of the stream.

The deeper segment of Roman Nose makes a perfect swimming hole complete with jumping rocks from which Patrick did not hesitate to cannonball.

An inventory of what we found or saw on our brief paddle and romp:

Hundreds of tiny black tadpoles scurrying across the pebbles in the shallow water

Human critters swimming and sauntering

More sediment on the creek bottom than last weekend plus small human critters throwing stones

A handsome frog surveying the rocks near the Roman Nose swimming hole

A daddy and daughter in the deep portion of the swimming hole while white-skinned folks of all shapes and sizes considered the scenario from the banks.

One very large fish that looked about a foot long (Patrick thought it was a trout) but whisked by too quickly for me to drop a paddle and take a photo.

Dozens of minnows with yellow and black stripes around the lower trunk which consistently led to cries of "Fish, fish!" and "Fosh, fosh!" from the little ones, depending on which little one was doing the exclaiming.

If you haven't signed the petition asking our legislators to reconsider running the Eastern Bypass through our local paddleworthy creek, please do so now. Since it is a federal project, federal tax dollars will be applied, which means that all Americans are involved in funding this fossil project which will destroy our creek.