Alina's Adventures

How to "deal" with the intractable issues.

The solace.

Being a person who likes to see everyone happy- the kind who runs from one person to another to make sure no one's feelings are hurt- leaves me stranded when it comes to sorting through those intractable conflicts posed by the human ego. The solace lies next to me in bed at night and reminds me, "You can't please everyone, Alina... Some people are just haters. Stay away from them or you'll be hated too." Patrick, our marriage, our family, is not intractable- it's an iterative process, a learn-and-grow-as-you-go, a wonder and a joy.

The truth doesn't suit my hopes. The truth is that there are angry people in the world who get a kick out of being angry and acting as if the world is against them. You can't get anywhere in that kind of discussion- the kind of discussion I've been having far too much for my taste lately. Someone whose identity and self-image is warped by being mad ends up a perpetual victim of their own cognitive choices.

When in doubt, whip out the Kurt Vonnegut. Sure enough, he's got it covered:

I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, "If this isn't nice, I don't know what is."

Have you confessed your happy moments today? Though most people seem to bond over complaints, especially political ones, sharing happiness seems like a stronger foundation for friendship. So I'll admit it- I'm happy that Orion magazine exists, that poetry still soothes and untangles the stuff too skewed to touch with ordinary language. I'm happy with the little ditty I scribbled in my journal today- a true story still reeking of macroinvertebrates and water. I'm happy to know that the ebb and flow is as much a part of me as of the world, a rhythmn to which I can dance.

Jason Isbell sings about Alabama pines.

Thoughts while strolling along the beach in caravan.

Beach thoughts hover and pass like clouds- impressions more than anything lasting.

The way the dessicated sand barks from the pressure of our feet gives goosebumps.
Palm trees line the condo lanes.
Each stiff palm frond jabs the air, certain of its point.
The wind takes what is there and extends it into a mode or a melody.
A lizard with a long green stripe running down its back sits happily in the sand.
Max thinks he is "waiting for a shadow" to alert him to danger.
So we point carefully, taking care not to cast shadows in the lizard's direction. 
Tall, slender sea oats barely beckon, barely moving, necks tilted by an arabesque many years in the making.
I realize that the oats suit our lizard friend quite perfectly- nary a shadow slips from their silhouettes, nary a false alarm.
We are the big shadows on this scene, our bulky bodies hanging portents of dread, thick columns of darkness crossing pristine white sand, leaving our noncommital marks on the land. 

Playing with pipes.

Max's journal prompt today involved describing these pipes and how they work to move the water we use. He then colored the diagram and labeled various pipes. 

3rd Annual Johnny Shines Blues Festival this weekend in Holt.

Amos Kennedy made the poster, and Friends of Hurricane Creek are proud to support our local blues musicians of the feisty sex. Family-friendly backyard blues with food, drinks, and good times. A few years ago, we brought a blanket and lawn chairs and alternated between dancing and just hanging out. All proceeds go to the Johnny Shines Foundation. Here's a little from the Shines himself to get you in the mood....

I Make You Happy- Johnny Shines and Snooky Pryor

Tuscaloosa Area Virtual Museum opens soon!

Your Telephone Call, a poem by Adam Zagajewski.

Max practicing piano at his Bunica's house.

YOUR TELEPHONE CALL

Your telephone call broke in
while I was writing a letter to you.
Do not disturb me when
I'm talking with you. Our two
absences cross,
and one love rips itself apart
like a bandage. 

Extended explorations (a.k.a. the nature study post-mortem).

A discovery on a stroll around the neighborhood.

First. What I did.

Second. What I saw.

Third. What I thought.

This is the simple, clear format offered by the Handbook of Nature Study for a nature study follow-up. I treasure its simplicity- because formulas are part of science, and setting up these formulas early makes it easier to get into good habits of observation and thinking.

Whenever I sit in a waiting room, the TV blasts some news saga and the extent to which we are trapped in this reactionary thinking cycle makes me sad. Not having cable television or a satellite is the best decision Patrick and I ever made- for us, and for our family. Try it for a week. See what happens. To this day, when I walk into a room that has Fox News or NBC blaring, I notice my tendecy to get upset rises in direct relation to the volume of the anger exhibited on TV.

Perhaps if we cultivate these careful, observant threads for thinking, it will make a difference in our tendency to "react". Who knows? Off to observe.

Angie and Milla: A love story.

I don't think any text is needed to explain what is happening here.

Angie, Micah, and Milla.

Mushroom bloom.

In honor of the mushroom bloom which took place overnight, we devoted some time to the study of mushrooms. 

Max identified this handsome fungi and then added a page to his nature journal on this mushroom and its living needs, including habitat, food, season, climate, and more.

Micah practiced writing the fantastic letter M, which is for "mushroom", but also for mommy, Max, Micah, and Milla, as she promptly reminded me. Then we set out in the yard to try and identify a few local shroom friends.

Tornado tree chair.

Look at what we discovered at the Georgine Clark Gallery in downtown Northport.... Kudos to Tanya for her creative vision in using tornado wood for good.

Love letter #37: From the minds of local Alabama authors and literati.

Last thing I remember before being wheeled back to my endoscopy.

Anything Can Be A Leprechaun, the blog of Gin Phillips
The Edifice Project, David Ainsworth's votive for Milton  
Brian Oliu Internet Presence 
The Creative Writers Collaborative, a project manned by BJ Hollars
The Lit Pub, the blog of Elizabeth Wade
Thoughts from Nanci Kincaid, the woman who wrote,
"I want a man who is born happy so it isn't my job to make him that way..." 
Hobart for a little Sam Martone and anothers
Gay Talese's official website, for a plethora from hats to histories
The Seasons Bear Us, the blog of Jeanie Thompson
Roy Hoffman writ Roy at South Writ Large
Rodney Jones' bio and poems at the Poetry Foundation 
James Braziel needs no title 
Sena Jeters Naslund's blog 

Since even love letters have unchased butterflies or words which got away...

Chapter 16's moment with Michael Knight is as close as it gets.
Norman Jetmundsen goes from from Vulcan to Soulbane.
Ralph Fletcher keeps writing for children with parents who love children's books.
Robert Inman storytells and stages.
On a sad side note, R.I.P. Madison Jones.
And what we missed of Wilmer Mills. 

It all hinges on the assumption of chaos.

My mom and stepfather live one house away- which means there is a fair bit of synergy between our daily lives. These photos display a little of the chaos always present in our get-togethers, always bubbling beneath the surface of our lives. Here we are with Rapaw, Bunica, and Vanilla in various configurations. 

Rural Studio Pilgrimage #3: Mason's Bend.

Getting to Mason's Bend

Following the footsteps of Samuel Mockbee and the Rural Studio school around the corners of Alabama begins with a trip to the Pie Lab in Greensboro for us. After polishing off some quiche in the courtyard, I sidled up to the counter hoping to get directions to Mason's Bend. The lady behind the counter didn't know, but she knew someone who did. Before long, I was speaking on her iPhone to a man who provided the following directions:

Take Highway 14 from Greensboro to Sawyerville. Once you pass the only blinking traffic light in Sawyerville, take the next left (might be Highway 15). Follow that road all the way on out until you pass a huge mansion. A little futher, the road will continue as a dirt road or a hard top- stay on the hard top which veers left. 

Grandma Vicki used the spotty cell phone reception to consult Google Maps as we drove. Between the two of us, we balked at the rolling green hills and hot orange dirt while trying to figure out which roads we needed to follow. Max chirped up from the backseat that "This is like an awesome puzzle and we have to find our way with a few clues." The thrill of the chase kept us laughing- it also kept our eyes and ears attuned to the landscape and world around us in which any road might be "the one clue". I'm convinced that we learn so much more from these pilgrimage outings combining verbal directions with slipshod maps than any perfectly-planned field trip. 

The Glass Chapel at Mason's Bend

When I explained to Grandma Vicki that Rural Studio uses "local ingredients", including clays, dirts, salvaged materials, and metals, she expressed the oft-repeated question of how dirt houses withstand Alabama thunderstorms. Little did we know that our adventure would provide a first-hand experience of exactly this building lesson.

The last thing I remember before the zombie apolcalypse is that we turned left onto Mason's Bend Road. Before we knew it, a bright orange dirt road stretched out before us in a curve that could only be called "Mason's Bend". And there it was.

The Glass Chapel-   a transportation stop, community gathering space, chapel for the local choral group, and distribution center for children's summer school meals- made from car windows salvaged from a Chicago scrap yard provide set atop rammed earth walls. Anderson Harris, owner of the Butterfly House, donated the land for the center and before his recent death tended to its garden.

Max and Micah visit the Glass Chapel, a community center in Mason's Bend.

Inside the Glass Chapel, which once held picnic tables.

A close-up of the exterior Glass Chapel walls.

The Basketball Court at Mason's Bend

The Basketball Court was completed in 2000 around the same time as the Glass Chapel. The same rammed earth technnique was used for the court shelter. One difference is in the composition of its creators; the Basketball Court was the first Rural Studio Outreach project which brought together students from different disciplines.

Grandma Vicki poses with the kids near the Basketball Court which is currently missing a basketball goal.

The Butterfly House at Mason's Bend

On the right at the beginning of the bend stands the Harris/Butterfly House, built for Anderson and Ora Lee Harris in 1996. Its name comes from the sharply angled roof structure that collects rainwater and shelters a screened porch. The house is largely heated and cooled passively, with assistance from a wood-burning stove. The roof's "tail" funnels rain into a cistern, which is used for washing clothes and flushing toilets. The house is now occupied by Anderson and Ora Lee's children.

The water spout just barely misses the bird bath, probably intended for less furious showers.

Chance encounters are my favorite kind, and we just chanced upon a young lady standing on a porch with her children. I asked her if it was alright to photograph the Glass Chapel, and she said, "Of course." We got to talking about the Bend, her kids, the basketball court that used to sit behind her house before the balls kept landing in her windows, and her mom, who lived a few houses away in the Butterfly House. When I asked if there was some way we could contribute money for local kids to maintain the Glass Chapel, she called her parents, Daniel and Lori Harris, one of which I presumed was a descendant of Anderson Harris. 

As the kids exchanged cockadoodles with a handsome rooster strutting across the road, Daniel and Lori Harris appeared- warm smiles, welcomes, no concern for the clouds just beginning to shed a drizzle overhead. While the drizzle turned to a shower (my first shower of the week, I confess), Daniel and Lori told me how we could could help the community of Mason's Bend maintain the Glass Chapel and the Basketball Court. They gave their name and number, and Max immediately began drafting a poster to collect money for Mason's Bend- for upkeep and to add a playground/basketball area for the kids. 

The Green (Dirt) House at Mason's Bend

Turning left onto Green Lane will lead you to the Green Dirt House and the Willie Bell House.

The Green Dirt House bore a group of 8 children, possibly Greens, playing on the porch, but the rain drove them back indoors.

The Green (Dirt) House, completed in 2005, was marked by fantastic overhanging eves which protect the dirt blocks from the elements and its inhabitants from the hot summer sun. Experimental blocks made of newspaper and Hale County red dirt molded into papercrete form the exterior wall that bears no load. Papercrete is a construction material composed of pulped paper, clay, and cement and has existed since the early 1920s, but has never been used extensively. As such, the wall is an experiment and consequently is protected by a big roof and does not carry any load.

The central column clad in metal serves as a towering chimney. Based on common African building techniques, the tower is located above the kitchen and creates a natural convective current by causing a pressure gradient — warm air rises and is pulled up and out the column while makeup air is pulled in creating cooling breezes.

The Willie Bell House at Mason's Bend

In 2005, Rural Studio students tried their hand at a more disciplined project using conventional lumber and a standard box frame. The Willie Bell House next door to the Green House was the result. We saw brightly colored bowling balls on the front lawn, but the house itself was very difficult to see in the rain.

The barely-visible Willie Bell House.

What we missed at Mason's Bend

The advent of a torrential downpour kept us from visiting the Harris Hay Bale House, completed in 1994. With 24-inch-thick walls constructed from stacked hay bales enveloped in concrete stucco, this house is a model for sustainable insulation. Hay bales act as a highly effective insulator, economical, and mildew- and mold-resistant. The awning windows pull air off the large front porch and form a natural convective current for cooling the home in the summer. 

The Harris Smokehouse was made from broken concrete salvaged by the Hale County Highway Department. It was built for a total of $40 and now functions as a henhouse. The roof is made of salvaged road signs and beams from a local barn. Glass bottles are embedded in the walls and glow when seen from the inside. Mockbee dubbed the smokehouse style "Alabama Ronchamp". I was hoping to see the special "bricks" up close and nab Mr. Shepard for a chat. 

We also missed the Manor Bryant Seed House, 1999 thesis project for Rural Studio also located at Mason's Bend.

The thunderstorm waltzed across the state with us as we drove Grandma Vicki to the airport.

Topsy-turvy clouds= cheering kids in the car.

If you'd like to help the community of Mason's Bend, please send an email to rainscented @ gmail dot com. Include your name, suggestions, and possible donations for a playground.

Pilgrimage to a quasi-secret sulphur spring.

James F. Sulzby, Jr., the Birmingham realtor who founded the Alabama Historical Association in 1947, shared his personal passion for local history in Historic Alabama Hotels and Resorts. The bland title obfuscates the diligence to detail within. Sulzby's chronicle reveals the early development of Alabama by land speculators and land grant companies, many of which purchased land, discovered a mineral spring, and created a resort around these "therapeutic waters", in that order.

The cloudy Saturday started slowly at the Coryell Castle- piles of laundry to fold, sort, and put away almost distracted us from the call to adventure. Then I stumbled across a chapter called "Windham Springs" and the sirens started. Love for laundry aside, Patrick and the kids didn't take much convincing. Off we went in search of Windham Springs which we knew from Sulzby's book was "located on Crabbe Road, twenty-five miles north of Tuscaloosa, in the extreme uppermost part of Tuscaloosa County".

Sulzby's description of Windham Springs, which was called the "Fountain of Youth" while the resort was in full operation, bore reading aloud in the car. The name comes from Levi Windham, formerly of Pickens County, who first established this formerly-famous watering hole:

After obtaining title to the land, Mr. Windham returned to settle there. He brought along fifty slaves to clear the land, and upon completion of that work he possessed a beautiful farm. The immediate area surrounding the springs was left in its natural state because of its picturesque beauty, and became known as Windham Springs.

In 1850, Mr. Windham built a hotel and six cabins... After Mr. Windham discovered the curative qualities of the mineral waters on his place, the news spread throughout Tuscaloosa and the adjacent counties like news of a new patent medicine. The water was "reputed to cure rheumatism, toe itch, colic, stomach acidity and most any other sort of ailments."

Max jumped in to exclaim that his toe itched due to fire ant bites, and he looked forward to being cured of this annoyance. I told him that there might be reason to expect such a cure since George Christian, father of Northport businessman T.W. Christian, had supposedly been "cured" of a "severe case of eczema on his legs which the doctos were unable to cure" by soaking his legs in water from Windham Springs.

Though Mr. Windham apparently enjoyed a drink- the hotel's saloon really took off- local churchgoers did not approve. The legislature passed a bill prohibiting the selling of alcohol within five miles of nearby churches, which meant Windham's saloon had to be shut down. After the Civil War (consistently described as "The War Between the States by Sulzby), Mr. Windham lost his slaves and couldn't operate the farm or hotel anymore. The acrerage and resort were sold to Sam Friedman and Company of Tuscaloosa.

Sam Friedman added several new cabins, bringing the total to twenty cabins, at Windham Springs. He also leased the hotel and cabins to local operators. The "curative effects of sulphur water continued to attract people to the resort and often there were three to four hundred people there at one time". Sulzby notes that "traveling drummers who made trips out from Tuscaloosa, Jasper, Fayette, and Carrollton stopped at Windham Springs regularly because of the good hospitality, cool nights, and good meals."

On the fourth Sunday in May of 1917, tragedy struck the resort when a tornado rolled through and "blew practically everything away." The cabins, stores, houses, and the Baptist Church in the area were levelled. Houston Clements, who had been managing the hotel, barely escaped with his life when the entire hotel save for two rooms, one of which he used as storm shelter with his family, was destroyed. 

In 1933, Joe Christian purchased the Windham Springs property from Friedman and Company. Professor T.E. Christian who taught school in various parts of Tuscaloosa was still living on the property when Sulzby's book was published in 1960. 

As we drove along Crabbe Road, it soon became clear that there was not going to be a Windham Springs sign or any easy access route from the road. We stopped at Field's Grocery and Patrick went in to inquire about the healing sulphur waters. Mr. Fields told Patrick that he used to "drink that water all the time and it tasted gooo-o-o-d". As for directions, we needed to turn left at the curve in the road with mailboxes and trailers onto a dirt-road winding around the back. 

Milla makes her way down to the mysterious spring.

The ladies stare with slight horror at the tap water running into the creek.

The sulphur water tap is still running- and look at the white residue!

Micah finds the spring and the tap where Max waits.

Patrick was the only one brave enough to taste the spring water, which smelled distinctly of old eggs.

More butterflies to chase if you decide to cavort around the Windham Springs area

The WTTO Tower, supposedly "one of the tallest constructions on earth"
Alabama Pioneers' geneological history of Windham Springs
The Windham Springs Baptist Church nearby on Crabbe Road
Goodwater Cemetery, home to several Christian and Dunn headstones 
Field's Grocery on Crabbe Road- to get the scoop from Mr. Fields 

Books that make you want to draw on the walls.

Joseph Had A Little Overcoat by Simms Taback is the current favorite. The ladies enjoyed cutting and pasting magazine pieces onto their own traced overcoats as a follow-up fancy. 

It's fun to break down the colors and collage pieces and seek "similars" in a magazine.

We made a story-telling board collage with faces from magazines as inspired by this page. 

The girls picked the faces and "characters" and we created a base for inventing our own stories about the inhabitants of "Overcoat Park". I hope we get to use this as a means of creative conflict resolution by telling stories which create empathy for one another when there is a "fight" or intractable squabble. 

Antlers, wooden women, and hanging objects.

The antlers above the mantle tend to attract hanging crafts.

Meanwhile, the mantle in general tends to accumulate "found objects" too loved for the floor but "in limbo" with respect to decor.

On the wall in the hall, secured with duct tape and all.

Strands of shells from the beach waiting for something to become.

Micah loves memory games.

Grandma Vicki discovered two loves for Micah Magnolia this week- Memory and "Mother May I?". Of course, when Joshua entered the picture, Candyland suddenly gained in popularity.

But Candyland never quite got "played" in the same way. It might have had something to do with the disparate ages of the "clientele".

Joshua and Milla only agreed to play by rules which required each of them to acquire as many pieces as possible. Micah, who has become quite the rule-abider, seemed disappointed.

Grandman Vicki making memories.

Pretend naps are better than the real deal.

Milla and Joshua share space on the gray velvet cushion.

When Joshua tried to kiss Milla, she promptly offered him her back.

A full set of teeth.

What happens in the orange chair.

Milla reads to her baby in the orange chair.

Everybody's favorite chair- big enough to swallow two kids and one adult- sits by the big window overlooking our street.

Micah in the orange chair.

Many moments begin and end in this chair- reading moments, thinking moments, drawing moments, journaling moments, doll-caring moments, moments so plentiful that they defy characterization. Even the sorting moments- the instants when I sit and weigh all the influences in our lives hoping for guidance on next steps, big decisions, and tiny co-evolutions which often lead to revolutions.

Vanilla and Milla in context.

As a 90-year-old gentleman reminded me on the phone yesterday, thinking is a dangerous act. It leads to reflection and revision. I'm glad my kids can ask me, "Mom, what are you thinking about?" and I can give them an honest answer. The orange chair is a context.

Love letter #36: The Brown House and The Blue House.

Photo credit goes to Tuscaloosa News. See corresponding article.

In this love, I must include the Linda who led me to it. The Brown House Project is an adventure or journey undertaken by Amy and Adam Pierce in their home:

We are just plain, vanilla, normal Christians who decided a while ago to share our lives, our love, and our home with the neighbors around us. We live intentionally and deliberately to try to show Christ's love to the world, and we focus on the kids around us that we see each and every day.

The Thursday Night Thing looks inspiring and filled with fellowship. Not far away lies the The Blue House Project involves six Christians in Northport, Alabama who are undertaking "an experiment in Christian living". Telling the stories of the humans investing in other beautiful humans. 

Grandma Vicki's gift.

Grandma Vicki poses with a print by Amos Kennedy that brought her coffee-loving ways to mind immediately. You know you love someone when they bring an Amos print to mind....

Tessellations, tangrams, and mosaics: A learning extravaganza.

After picking up Grandma Vicki from the airport yesterday, we dropped by Birmingham-Southern College to stretch our legs, change a diaper, and nibble on clementines.

Upon roaming the campus, we found a star on the map labelled "Ecoscape"- a destination. 

Max counts as the girls and Grandma Vicki scamper to hide.

The metal sculptures and winding trails delighted the kids, who quickly realized that the Ecoscape was an ideal place for a good game of hide-and-go-seek. 

 

As we savored the scattered mosaics, Grandma Vicki and I felt a plan begin to hatch- a plan that involves old thrift store plates, a hammer, and a bag of cement on the Coryell Castle grounds.

Returning to Tuscaloosa led to extended play with tangrams and tessellations. I took photos of the kids' designs and we decided to try and use a few for our mosaic-in-the-making. Tangram pieces are excellent tools for experimenting with mosaic patterns.

Mosaic tutorials for the making

House-number mosaic sign 
 Mosaic planter
 Simple, green mosaics 
Pebble mosaic (This Old House) 
Pebble mosaic (Fine Gardening) 
Pebble mosaic stepping stones (Garden Molds)
Mosaic tile birthbath (Making Mosaics) 

Open Woods Week at Sipsey River Swamp- something gooood to do.

The Alabama Department of Conservation and Natural Resources’ (ADCNR) State Lands Division has scheduled four Open Woods Weeks at the Forever Wild Land Trust’s Sipsey River Swamp Recreation Area and Nature Preserve. This beautiful tract is located in Tuscaloosa County near Buhl, Ala., off State Highway 82. It consists of more than 3,000 acres of beautiful bottomland forest along the Sipsey River. The Sipsey River watershed is one of Alabama’s 10 Natural Wonders.

Open Woods Weeks are currently scheduled for: July 20-29 , August 10-19, September 7-16, and October 5-14. During Open Woods Weeks, the main gate will open on Friday at 4 p.m., stay open through the following week, and close on Sunday at 4 p.m. During each Open Woods Week, the public may drive into the tract along the designated main gravel road leading from the Jack’s Drive Parking Area, to the south gate.

Canoeing, birding, fishing, picnicking and wildlife photography are welcome on these dates. Hiking, bicycle riding and horseback riding are discouraged on these dates, because of the increased vehicular traffic along the main road.

The Forever Wild Land Trust has purchased more than 227,000 acres for public protection and recreation since the program began in 1992. Developed in response to the loss of land available to the public for hunting and outdoor recreation, Forever Wild has protected over 197,000 acres in 14 Wildlife Management Areas. This November, Forever Wild needs your vote to continue its work for our state and its residents. 

Funding for the Forever Wild Land Trust is generated by the interest earned from natural gas royalties, which means that tax dollars are not used to fund this public service.  Most of the people who will vote against Forever Wild will do so out of ignorance as opposed to malice. Why has Forever Wild garnered consistent bipartisan support among knowing voters? The following printable briefs can be read and shared with fellow Alabamians.

The Forever Wild Land Trust: How Much Is Enough? 
Wild Recreation

To see and visit what Forever Wild has saved for you and your family, check out this map. I've heard there are a number of great geocaches at the Sipsey Swamp.

Aurora Robson's ocean debris art.

KAMILO, a sculpture by Aurora Robson

In making this piece, Robson used no hardware, no paint, no adhesives, only 100% plastic marine debris. The material was collected by the Hawaii Wildlife Fund during a bi-monthly coastal clean up on the Big Island. Plastic debris from all over the world washes ashore on the Southern tip of the Big Island. For the past 8 years, about 2 tons of plastic have been collected at each bi-monthly clean ups. Kamilo was created during a one month studio residency at the Parker School in Waimea, Hawaii. Students at the school volunteered their time to assist in the creation of this piece. All proceeds from the sale of this piece will go to help clean up our oceans and shorelines and to raise awareness about plastic pollution in our oceans.

Artist Aurora Robson is also the hands and heart behind Project Vortex, an international collective of artists working with plastic debris. But plastic is not her only focus- she also uses junk mail in her extensive collage pieces.

More Rural Studio in Alabama to chase: The hit list.

Since I've been spilling the beans about Rural Studio lately, I prefer to open the doors of your imagination to more than just our little wanderings. To learn about Rural Studio, Fred Bernstein's article is a great place to start and the back roads of west Alabama are a great place to continute.

Mockbee liked to work in Hale County because there was no building code enforcement which allowed his students to experiment with "unconventional materials and forms" ranging from surplus Chevy Caprice windshields to bales of hay. I think about this when my hopes for Rural Studio designs in Alberta City come to mind, and I hope that Tuscaloosa's new building code does not limit new construction to the tacky chain-mall style (and parking lot hell) of Midtown Village. I've noticed that much of the rebuilding in the tornado-damaged areas includes the same dull facades which promise to turn us into a generic version of the suburbia everyone is trying to escape these days.

The public restrooms at Perry Lakes Park in Marion, Alabama.

But back to the good stuff- here's my Rural Studio hit list for our roamschooling adventures this summer and fall:

1. The Glass Chapel at Mason's Bend, the hamlet near Sawyerville which includes the church built with Caprice windshields.
2. The Butterfly House in Mason's Bend. (Around 32.728822,-87.797794)
3. The Green Dirt House in Mason's Bend. (32.728822,-87.797794)
4. Harris Hay Bale House and Smokehouse in Mason's Bend. (32.727743,-87.800685)
5. The Towering Sky public restrooms at Perry Lakes in Marion. (32.694866,-87.243649)
6. The underground public restrooms at Perry Lakes in Marion. (32.694961,-87.243762)
7. The Uncle Henry House on County Road 23. (32.564669,-87.442766)
8. Butch Anthony's cool-sided Organic Farmer's Stand house of Doo Nanny repute dangling near Newbern. (32.631243,-87.499747)
9. Music Man's house outside Greensboro on County Road 19. Check out the StoryCorps.
10. The Bodark Amphitheater and Chantilly House in Newbern. (32.597870,-87.534036)
11. The Bridge House in Greensboro.
12. Rural Heritage Center in (32.271531,-87.626481)
13. The Safe House Museum in Greensboro. A must on all levels of spirit.
14. The Carpet House in Newbern. 
15. The Newbern Baseball Club field in Newbern. (32.605046,-87.529900)
16. The Patrick House in Newbern.
17. The Fire Station in Newbern.
18. The Newbern Playground in Newbern. (32.599763,-87.533956)
19. The Subrosa Chapel/Pantheon built by Carol Mockbee, Sambo's daughter, as a tribute in Newbern. (32.597915,-87.534401)
20. The Shiles House in Hale County.
21. St. Luke's Episcopal Church in Selma a stone's throw away from Old Cahawba. (32.319434, -87.105263)
22. Amos Kennedy's residence/studio in or near Akron.
23. The Dorothy Wilson House near Greensboro. (32.717882,-87.578003)
24. Hale County Animal Shelter in Greensboro.
25. The road sign fence in Greensboro.
26. The Connor House near Greensboro. (32.705366,-87.581168)
27. The Antioch Baptist Church somewhere in between places. (32.824360,-87.450448)
28. Lion's Park in Greensboro.

For more histories, details, and personal blurbs on Rural Studio, pick an asterisk and click.

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Rural Studio Pilgrimage #2: Lion's Park in Greensboro.

Highway 61 should played a big part in our pilgrimage. On our way from Newbern to Greensboro, we passed through the possibility of a town named "Whitsitt". I say possibility because there was no town in evidence and the name itself suggests a spin off "What's it?".

Driving the 8ish miles to Lion's Park in Greensboro was easy sailing. The GPS coordinates for your visiting pleasure: 

Latitude: 32.690500° N
Longitude: 87.588833° W

The super metal gate to Lion's Park are part of the Rural Studio's Surfaces, which turned the park from a car-friendly park to a pedestrian-focused park.

The intriguing Mobile Concession Stand that looks like a cross between the Jetson's and Soviet realism.

Patrick strolls up to the Baseball Fields at Lion's Park. The anti-90-degree angle look of the fencing is 100% Rural Studio.

Micah finds her own way to enter the super Playscape.

The play maze in which the kids got lost and found and lost and found again.

It might be one of the best places for hide-and-seek tag ever devised.

Stepping from one tin can to another is part of the fun.

Milla claps for herself as she manages the big leap across cans.

Sky and tin cans- vistas for kids.

Endless possibilities.

 Left out of our photos are the skate-friendly Toilet Rooms, the Skatepark, and other projects currently underway- which you can watch on Lion's Park Project blog. Coincidentally, the Rural Studio students were visiting the Tuscaloosa Arboretum recently.

Rural Studio Pilgrimage #1: Newbern.

Rather than drive down to the beach in a hurried haze, we decided to start our vacation the moment the spaceship pulled out from the driveway. The first hour of the drive was filled with the sound of the kids singing Hungarian blues while I attempted to convince their father of the absolute importance of said Rural Studio Piligrimage at that precise moment in time. 

Fortunately, the roads nudged us in the right direction and Patrick didn't put up too thick of a fight. After asking a young man from Los Angeles who was interning in Greensboro how we might get to the Rural Studio, he told us to hop on Main Street and keep going.

So we did. We drove for about 8 miles- right past the neat Newbern Fire Station and then right out of Newbern. There was nothing like a stop light, so don't bother looking.

Partrick perked up:
"Alina, I think we missed it. There's nothing here."

I smiled that patient, annoying, holier-than-thou smile:
"Okay, let's just go back to that store across from the fire station and ask someone. I'm sure people around here know..."

Patrick's reponse did not quite register to this over-eager pilgrim:
"(Sigh, grumble, grumble)...." to fade out.

And so we ended up in the parking lot beside the store in Newbern- and then out in the back, we found the Newbern Playground. Three men hanging out at the picnic table pointed us in the direction of a large warehouse two lots to the left.

One of the guys, a friendly man named James, explained that a tall sir with a British accent going by the name of "Andrew" was the go-to guy behind current Rural Studio projects. The gothic mansion right up the road with all the metal cans to the side was his residence.

Pat and Milla maneuveured the playground as Max and I chatted with the men in hats about how you should move (hint: very slowly) to keep cool in the sweltering weather. 

The gent names James told us that we should check out the Lion's Park in Greensboro or Perry Lakes Park in Marion- "the kids will love those". He and Max got to talking about Rural Studio, and James told Max he needed to watch a movie called "Citizen Architect".

Max said:
"Why?"

James replied:
"Ha! Because I'm IN it, that's why!"

Max grinned:
"You mean you're a movie star?"

James flicked his cigarette:
"Something like that, young man. I pop up in all kinds of places."

Max jumped around and grabbed my arm:
"Mom, he's my first movie star. The girls at Capitol School love movie stars. I want to get his autograph because I've never met a movie star." 

James asked us to call him "Mr. Peanut", and then proceeded to sign my journal with an autograph for an expectanct Max. 

Max had a glow in his cheeks as we strolled back to the car to resume our pilgrimage. When I asked why he was so chipper, Max didn't miss a beat- "Mom! Look at what he wrote! Mr. Peanut LOVES me." And that was all the fuel we needed to persevere.

Playing around at Perdido Key.

One of our favorite swimming spots is under the Perdido bridge between the condo and Ono Island. Yesterday, we ventured out for a little dip and drip at Perdido in the company of my dad (aka Bunicu) and the Grand Bon-Bon (my 95-year-old grandfather who is the world's most detail-oriented and continuously-occupied social critic).

The bridge. You can climb up on the concrete feet of the bridge and jump into the deep waters surrounding it.

Patrick and Milla set forth into the sea.

Milla is finally challenging her own recent "fear" of water.

Nothing like a dad's hand to make the water feel safe.

Happy Milla, our testament to the effectiveness of sunscreen.

Max and Micah wave to the catamaran, the sylph of man-made vessels.

Dad and I pose for a photo session.

I've had the friendship bracelet since Milla was born and it's just now starting to show signs of falling away.

Gee whiz.

This is the point at which Milla inserted herself into the scene to demand breast milk. She also made it clear to Bunicu that he needed to keep his hands off her property, namely, me.

The Grand Bon Bon casts a critical eye on all that fun being had by various folks at the beach.

Matt and Sarah, a not-so-secret love story.

I met Patrick's college house-mate and dear friend Matt way back in the days of flirt-fun-and-run-- the times when Patrick and I still managed to laugh at "all those other people who were getting married". The joke, of course, was on us. 

I know how much Patrick loves Matt, and how much it means to him (and now, to me) to get closer to Sarah, his partner, wife, best friend, sister, lover, the whole bit. This photo was taken at the worst restaurant in Orange Beach - The Crab Trap- where we dined our last meal before they left for Atlanta. For some reason, Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" came to mind- the lyrics and the layers of love when it is truly lived, as opposed to merely worn like a poncho. 

Waiting on the rain.

I love the beach storms that blow through, stiffen the sand, and then melt away quicker than an ice cube in a sauna.

The boaters and those who stayed with Grand Bon-Bon.

It came to a division yesterday between those who went on a boating expedition and those who stayed behind with Grand Bon-Bon. Not many photos were taken by those who stayed behind with the Bon, but we regaled the boaters and experienced vicarious sport through their photos.

Patrick and Max aboard the boat I've come to decide should be named "Tiny Tantra".

Matt shows off his awesome profile.

The unfortunate moment at which Micah probably caught her current cold.

The handsome dude who shares my bed and all the blame.

Bunicu and Max share the helm.

Meanwhile, back with the Bon, it was corncobs and drama all the way.

Shunting and shanklets: New words from the Coryell Caravan.

Patrick coined a term- "shunting", or shell hunting- to describe one of my preferred beach activities. Shunting with the munchkins reveals a little about their emerging aesthetic preferences. For example, Micah tends to crow with delight when she discovers a large, colorful shell that is intact. Max, on the other hand, brings his "pure white" shells to me and explains how the white shells "may have been around the longest because they are bleached by sand and sun". Tiny Mills proudly parades each and every shell she manages to pick up and tote over to us without dropping; for her, the "beauty" is intertwined with the "success" of finding and toting any shell whatsoever. 

Micah shunting.

After collecting shells, we bring them up to the condo and the girls wash and sort each shell. The sorting categories are simple- shells with holes and shells without holes. The shells with holes are set aside for string-based creations while the shells without holes are set aside for other options, including shell chess. Micah wanted to know "what makes the holes". I told her that I thought it might be the way that the creatures who lived inside the shells got out when it was time to "go" or time to "grow". We were both satisfied with this explanation.

Over the past few days, I made shell and bead anklets for each munchkin. The symbolism of the tiny holes and each shells being home to a story of a creature who grew scurried through my head as I tied knots and added beads. Of course, Max quickly stepped into the story with a heavy dose of reality.

"Actually mom, the holes in those shells are how the dogwinkles and drills slowly bore into the shell to suck out the creatures and eat them. Those holes are ways to kill. But don't worry- that's how the dogwinkles and drills get their food, and they have to live too. Not all shell creatures get eaten- just some of them. That's why not all the shells have holes in them....."

Sure enough, it turns out that the dogwinkle snail, also known as the dog whelk, is a species of predatory sea snail, "a carnivorous marine gastropod mollusc in the family Muricidae, the rock snails". However, the dogwinkle snail prefers rocky shores, and Orange Beach is far from rocky, so I told Max that this particular predator might not be the one making all the holes in the shells we found along the beach.

Other predatory shell-drilling creatures include the moon snail, the oyster drill (Max's "drill"), and other predatory ocean snails.

Milla sports her "shanklet", or shell anklet.

If you or your family would like to chase a few butterflies, I recommend following:

Pebbles with holes whodunit (Jessica's Nature Blog) 
Another story of misinformed shunting (Made by Meg) 
Chunky shell necklace (Design Squish) 
DIY gold-dipped seashell necklace (Delighted Momma)