Nearly a month has gone by without any new posts, despite my recent statements about blogging in earnest. I'm finding that teaching writing classes not only involves lots of time grading papers but also focuses my interest on writing. I'm actually writing a lot in various journals and notebooks, but not focusing in the short run on material I want to post here. We'll see what develops. Let's just say, my cessation of blogging is not due to deterioration of my health. I might be back soon. It probably depends on how spring unfolds - wildflowers, lizards, interesting insects, etc., usually fire me up and prompt me to keep my camera batteries charged.
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.
I came across a quote from John Fugelsang that seemed to me fitting for the season we're in. I've added a bit in brackets that I think is in the same spirit. Despite the gloomy prospect suggested, my "audacity of hope" is maintained, so far, by photos such as these taken locally over the past few springs. They are all on my Valentine's Day list for blogposts over the next few weeks. First, the quote:
"Only in America can you be Pro-Death Penalty, Pro-War, Pro-Unmanned Drones, Pro-Torture [and I'd add Pro-Human-caused Global Warming Denial] & still call yourself 'Pro-Life'."
Rachel Carson's Silent Spring is often credited with launching the Environmental Movement. Yesterday's political show, culminating a truly ugly and scary year of politics, has me wondering how many of the things I've posted in this blog over the past 6 years will still exist after the next four. We have elected an amoral egomaniac, yet a significant segment of the American populace is celebrating. Take a good look at the orchid pictured above. An incredible beauty, yet small and not brightly-colored. It is probably often trampled by people unaware of its existence. Some of them undoubtedly pursuing photographs of bigger and brighter flowers. Some trampled by the wheels of ORV's and the boots of "outdoorsmen."
The butterfly, a nature lovers' icon. Will people ever realize that when it flaps its wings in Quincy it has far-reaching consequences as will its absence?
Will people ever see the beauty of insects in love and rise up to save them?
Will people who flock to see the amazing flora of Butterfly Valley Botanical Area every spring ever realize that one square mile is not enough? Our parks should not become mere remnants. They need to become models and harbingers of recovery.
These roses, folded from South Carolina sweetgrass adorn our kitchen counter. Icons of a culture of African Americans that exists along the coastal islands of our Southeastern states, they and their culture could disappear under more Trump hotels. UNLESS WE RESIST!