In the course of our brief human lives, we generally make a large number of friends. Some are casual acquaintances while others are lasting friends, directly impacting the course of our lives. Both groups offer companionship, unique points of view and a vital source of color amidst our tedious obligations and personal turmoil. For all of these benefits, we appreciate our friends and, even after they have left our lives, we think of them often.
In contrast, the few humans with whom we have a deep romantic relationship, however brief, occupy an enduring place in our soul that matches or may supercede our emotional tie to genetic relatives. At times painfully concious, the bond to a past lover haunts our mind, surfacing in dreams or whenever certain triggers are encountered (music, dates, places or scenarios in books and film, to name a few). Unlike our memories tied to friendships, these recollections are, more often than not, launch pads for regret, self doubt and unhappiness.
Why is romantic love such firmly and permanently imbedded in our souls? It seems likely that such a relationship, nature's mechanism for procreation and species survival, involves connections to multiple regions of our brain, many of which are sensitive to specific genetic signaling from our lover; these signals, which are likely transmitted via all of our sensory systems, direct us toward genetically compatible individuals. In the course of this process, strong emotions become hard-wired in our brains, destined to haunt us for the rest of our days.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Summer Nights and Winter Days
Having lived in various parts of the country and as one who enjoys seasonal change, I am of the opinion that Metro Denver offers the best climate in the U.S. Though the intense sunshine can produce significant summer heat, the low humidity and high elevation allow the air to cool rapidly during the night. Just sitting in the shade on a hot summer day offers significant relief and overnight temperatures generally fall into the fifties (F). Mornings are pleasantly cool (if not chilly) and summer evenings are mild as the sun drops behind the Rockies.
Though many Americans believe that Denver is covered with snow for nine months of the year (it can actually snow in the city anytime from September to May), winters are rather mild when compared to the Upper Midwest and Northeast. Again, the abundant sunshine, dry air and high elevation produce comfortable daytime temperatures, augmented at times by downsloping winds (chinooks); for example, the average high temperature in late January is in the forties, compared with the twenties in Chicago. Radiation cooling often produces overnight lows in the teens but the temperature rebounds quickly under dry, sunny skies; winter snow is, of course, common but generally evaporates within a few days.
The downside of Denver's climate (if there is one) is the propensity for heavy, upslope snowstorms in March and April, just as flowers are appearing and trees are leafing out. But the cool summer nights and mild winter days more than compensate.
Though many Americans believe that Denver is covered with snow for nine months of the year (it can actually snow in the city anytime from September to May), winters are rather mild when compared to the Upper Midwest and Northeast. Again, the abundant sunshine, dry air and high elevation produce comfortable daytime temperatures, augmented at times by downsloping winds (chinooks); for example, the average high temperature in late January is in the forties, compared with the twenties in Chicago. Radiation cooling often produces overnight lows in the teens but the temperature rebounds quickly under dry, sunny skies; winter snow is, of course, common but generally evaporates within a few days.
The downside of Denver's climate (if there is one) is the propensity for heavy, upslope snowstorms in March and April, just as flowers are appearing and trees are leafing out. But the cool summer nights and mild winter days more than compensate.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Summer Blooms
After a colorful spring, our Colorado farm usually enters a period of muted greens and browns until the late summer monsoon brings back the rain. This year, following heavy rainfall over the past few months, the landscape remains verdant and our usual summer blooms are especially vivid.
Our large linden (basswood) tree is full of yellow racemes and the rose of sharon are just beginning to bloom; we have three varieties of Hibiscus syriacus on the farm, with white, purple and blue flowers. The blue spirea is also beginning to open its flower clusters and will continue to do so for the next six weeks. Pockets of wildflowers include summer species such as purple coneflower, Indian blanket and prairie sunflowers. The trumpet vine, a magnet for orioles and hummingbirds, is especially prolific this year and a large crop of thistle, their purple heads just opening, should keep the lesser goldfinches around for their late summer nesting.
For we humans, these colorful flowers are a welcome addition to the landscape, a source of beauty and (in many cases) fragrance. For the plants that harbor them, the blooms serve a more vital purpose, attracting pollinators that are essential to each plant's reproductive strategy. And, of course, the pollinators (flies, bees, butterflies, moths, birds) are rewarded with nutritious nectar. Everybody wins!
Our large linden (basswood) tree is full of yellow racemes and the rose of sharon are just beginning to bloom; we have three varieties of Hibiscus syriacus on the farm, with white, purple and blue flowers. The blue spirea is also beginning to open its flower clusters and will continue to do so for the next six weeks. Pockets of wildflowers include summer species such as purple coneflower, Indian blanket and prairie sunflowers. The trumpet vine, a magnet for orioles and hummingbirds, is especially prolific this year and a large crop of thistle, their purple heads just opening, should keep the lesser goldfinches around for their late summer nesting.
For we humans, these colorful flowers are a welcome addition to the landscape, a source of beauty and (in many cases) fragrance. For the plants that harbor them, the blooms serve a more vital purpose, attracting pollinators that are essential to each plant's reproductive strategy. And, of course, the pollinators (flies, bees, butterflies, moths, birds) are rewarded with nutritious nectar. Everybody wins!
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
The Patience of Fungi
In the nineteen years that we have owned our Littleton, Colorado farm, this has been the wettest spring and summer. As a consequence, I have seen more varieties of fungi on the property this year than I had over the previous eighteen combined. Maroon mats of slime mold, puff balls and a wide diversity of mushrooms and fungal growths are scattered across the fields and flower beds.
Of course, the fungi have been here all along, their mycelia infiltrating every patch of soil and every piece of decaying vegetation. The fruiting bodies that we observe are merely their structures for spore production and dispersal; the average mushroom releases millions (if not billions) of spores during its brief presence. Since moist soil conditions favor spore survival and germination, the fruiting bodies usually appear after periods of heavy precipitation (hence their abundance this year).
Observing nature from a human perspective, we are often amazed by the slow pace at which some life cycles unfold. Alpine lichen, for example, may take a thousand years to cover the side of a boulder. There is a certain patience in nature's cycles that is foreign to the human mind; we would do well to absorb some of that essence.
Of course, the fungi have been here all along, their mycelia infiltrating every patch of soil and every piece of decaying vegetation. The fruiting bodies that we observe are merely their structures for spore production and dispersal; the average mushroom releases millions (if not billions) of spores during its brief presence. Since moist soil conditions favor spore survival and germination, the fruiting bodies usually appear after periods of heavy precipitation (hence their abundance this year).
Observing nature from a human perspective, we are often amazed by the slow pace at which some life cycles unfold. Alpine lichen, for example, may take a thousand years to cover the side of a boulder. There is a certain patience in nature's cycles that is foreign to the human mind; we would do well to absorb some of that essence.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Natural Recylcing
Heading out back yesterday, we were immediately struck by the pungent odor of decay. Having been unable to entice a visiting groundhog into our cage-trap over the previous week, we immediately suspected that he was the victim. Indeed, a collection of flies near the corner of the deck signaled his location and, after removing a few boards, we found the hapless critter, half consumed by tiny, writhing maggots; he was soon relocated to a burial plot along the back fence.
We are all familiar with the sickly sweet fragrance of decomposition, having passed dead animals on the trail or caught the whiff of a bloated carcass along the highway. And while we often resort to embalming fluids, mortician magic and caskets to sanitize the deaths of humans, these measures offer but a temporary reprieve from nature's relentless course.
Death and decomposition are unpleasant to encounter but they are just as natural as birth and maturation. The decay and recycling of plant and animal matter are essential to the welfare of future generations; vultures, worms, maggots and carrion beetles are as vital to Earth's ecosystems as the myriad of creatures that, in death, provide their food.
We are all familiar with the sickly sweet fragrance of decomposition, having passed dead animals on the trail or caught the whiff of a bloated carcass along the highway. And while we often resort to embalming fluids, mortician magic and caskets to sanitize the deaths of humans, these measures offer but a temporary reprieve from nature's relentless course.
Death and decomposition are unpleasant to encounter but they are just as natural as birth and maturation. The decay and recycling of plant and animal matter are essential to the welfare of future generations; vultures, worms, maggots and carrion beetles are as vital to Earth's ecosystems as the myriad of creatures that, in death, provide their food.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Nature's Highways
Long before highways and railroads crisscrossed the landscape, rivers provided navigation routes for waterfowl, migrant mammals and human explorers. Even today, despite dams, levees and channelization, they connect the varied ecosystems of our planet.
Standing on the banks of the Missouri, near Columbia, I often ponder the source of the water that streams past me, on its way to join the Mississippi in St. Louis. I know that much of it fell as snow across the high mountains of Montana, Wyoming and Colorado. Some cascaded through Front Range canyons, even passing within a mile of our Littleton farm. Some exploded from geysers in Yellowstone National Park, dropped over Yellowstone Falls and flowed on toward Livingston, Billings and the Yellowstone's junction with the Missouri, in North Dakota. And some fell from massive supercells on the High Plains of Kansas before flowing eastward via the broad watersheds of the Republican and Smoky Hill Rivers.
Rivers have sculpted our landscape and give us a sense of connection with other communities, natural and human. More importantly, they transport nutrients to the sea, the source of all life on Earth, and she returns the favor by generating the storms that feed their flow. Rivers are nature's vital highways, recycling her waste, nourishing bottomlands, bringing water to arid lands and, no less important, filling our souls with the spirit of adventure.
Standing on the banks of the Missouri, near Columbia, I often ponder the source of the water that streams past me, on its way to join the Mississippi in St. Louis. I know that much of it fell as snow across the high mountains of Montana, Wyoming and Colorado. Some cascaded through Front Range canyons, even passing within a mile of our Littleton farm. Some exploded from geysers in Yellowstone National Park, dropped over Yellowstone Falls and flowed on toward Livingston, Billings and the Yellowstone's junction with the Missouri, in North Dakota. And some fell from massive supercells on the High Plains of Kansas before flowing eastward via the broad watersheds of the Republican and Smoky Hill Rivers.
Rivers have sculpted our landscape and give us a sense of connection with other communities, natural and human. More importantly, they transport nutrients to the sea, the source of all life on Earth, and she returns the favor by generating the storms that feed their flow. Rivers are nature's vital highways, recycling her waste, nourishing bottomlands, bringing water to arid lands and, no less important, filling our souls with the spirit of adventure.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Extreme Heat
In the midst of our steamy, Midwestern summer, it is reassuring to know that our high temperatures are not even close to the conditions endured in other parts of the globe. As one might expect, the hottest weather occurs in desert regions, where the humidity is low and the air is sinking; both factors augment the density of air, increasing its ability to absorb heat. While, for any given temperature, humid air will feel more uncomfortable, the presence of water vapor limits the air's heating capacity.
The highest air temperature ever recorded on the planet was 136 F, in Libya, followed closely by 134 F in Death Valley, California. High temperature records across the desert regions of the Middle East and Australia are generally in the mid to upper 120s. In contrast, Norway's record high is 96F, Iceland has not topped 87F and the highest recording in Antarctica has been 59F. Perhaps the most unnerving record (for those of us who prefer cool weather) is that held by the Danakil Basin in Ethiopia: a mean annual temperature of 94 degrees F!
Faced with the threat of global warming, it is interesting to note that most of the regional, high temperature records were recorded in the early to mid 20th Century. Then again, local weather patterns and global climate trends have no direct relationship.
The highest air temperature ever recorded on the planet was 136 F, in Libya, followed closely by 134 F in Death Valley, California. High temperature records across the desert regions of the Middle East and Australia are generally in the mid to upper 120s. In contrast, Norway's record high is 96F, Iceland has not topped 87F and the highest recording in Antarctica has been 59F. Perhaps the most unnerving record (for those of us who prefer cool weather) is that held by the Danakil Basin in Ethiopia: a mean annual temperature of 94 degrees F!
Faced with the threat of global warming, it is interesting to note that most of the regional, high temperature records were recorded in the early to mid 20th Century. Then again, local weather patterns and global climate trends have no direct relationship.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Mid Summer Evening
Were it not for the mosquitoes, it would have been a pleasant evening in the backyard. The temperature hovered near 78 F and oppressive humidity was still far to our south. The clear song of a Carolina wren rang through the neighborhood while a family of house wrens scoured our wood border. Bees and a lone hummingbird moved among the mimosa blossoms and a downy woodpecker chiseled the end of a dead sycamore limb.
Overhead, squadrons of chimney swifts strafed the treetops while nighthawks drifted higher in the evening sky, sharp peents announcing their presence. Annual cicadas, gearing up for the dog days of summer, delivered their pulsating calls from the shade trees and, as daylight faded, fireflies flashed from the shrubbery, their season of love beginning to wane.
Heat and humidity are poised to re-enter Missouri today and our North Country days will soon be a memory. This is, after all, the American Heartland and the promise of autumn is but a distant reward.
Overhead, squadrons of chimney swifts strafed the treetops while nighthawks drifted higher in the evening sky, sharp peents announcing their presence. Annual cicadas, gearing up for the dog days of summer, delivered their pulsating calls from the shade trees and, as daylight faded, fireflies flashed from the shrubbery, their season of love beginning to wane.
Heat and humidity are poised to re-enter Missouri today and our North Country days will soon be a memory. This is, after all, the American Heartland and the promise of autumn is but a distant reward.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Gender and Happiness
Women are, by nature, more sensitive, introspective and empathetic than are men. They involve themselves deeply in the lives of their family and friends, worrying about their welfare and sharing their burdens. This is especially true of female friendships, which are far more intimate than the casual relationships of men and involve a great deal of commiseration over the problems in each other's lives.
By contrast, men skim across the surface of life, focusing on their personal needs. While they cherish their role of provider and are concerned about the welfare of their friends and family, they do not dwell on such matters. Not generally open about themselves, they accept a rather superficial knowledge of their friends, limiting discussions and interactions to the common issues and pleasant diversions of everyday life.
Though clinical depression, unrelated to specific life events, is equally common in men and women, general unhappiness is, in my experience, far more common in women. This, I believe, is a consequence of their natural gender traits, discussed above, combined with the complicating factors of female physiology and social discrimination. When someone is described as "happy-go-lucky," that person is usually a male.
By contrast, men skim across the surface of life, focusing on their personal needs. While they cherish their role of provider and are concerned about the welfare of their friends and family, they do not dwell on such matters. Not generally open about themselves, they accept a rather superficial knowledge of their friends, limiting discussions and interactions to the common issues and pleasant diversions of everyday life.
Though clinical depression, unrelated to specific life events, is equally common in men and women, general unhappiness is, in my experience, far more common in women. This, I believe, is a consequence of their natural gender traits, discussed above, combined with the complicating factors of female physiology and social discrimination. When someone is described as "happy-go-lucky," that person is usually a male.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Mexico's Volcanic Belt
Just south of Mexico City, a 560-mile chain of volcanoes crosses the country from the Pacific Ocean to the Gulf of Mexico. Composed of more than 20 peaks and many more cinder cones, this Trans-Mexican Volcanic Belt has been developing since the Miocene, about 12 million years ago; over that time, volcanoes have risen, erupted and, eventually, eroded to the surface and today's landscape is but a snapshot in geologic time (most of the "modern" features have appeared over the past 1-2 million years). Indeed, satellite photos demonstrate many old calderas (remnants of past volcanoes) while Paricutin, in southwest Mexico, has risen in just the past 66 years.
Encompassing Mexico's three highest peaks, Pico de Orizaba (18,490 feet), Popocatepetl (17,802) and Ixtaccihuatl (17,160), this volcanic belt has formed (and is forming) as a consequence of subduction. The Cocos Plate, like the Juan de Fuca Plate of the Pacific Northwest and the Nazca Plate off the west coast of South America, is a remnant of the Farallon Plate which has been subducting beneath the American Plates since the Atlantic began to open, some 160 million years ago. To the south of Mexico, the Cocos Plate is also subducting beneath the western edge of the Caribbean Plate, producing a volcanic chain along the west coast of Central America.
Volcanism and earthquakes will continue in these subduction zones until the remnant plates are fully consumed. Popocatepetl, just 45 miles southeast of Mexico City, poses a significant threat to that metropolis, just as Mt. Ranier does to Seattle. The last major eruption along the Trans-Mexican Volcanic Belt was of El Chichon, in 1982, but the massive, 1985 earthquake in Mexico City (which killed 10,000) was also a reminder that subduction and tectonic activity persist in the region.
Encompassing Mexico's three highest peaks, Pico de Orizaba (18,490 feet), Popocatepetl (17,802) and Ixtaccihuatl (17,160), this volcanic belt has formed (and is forming) as a consequence of subduction. The Cocos Plate, like the Juan de Fuca Plate of the Pacific Northwest and the Nazca Plate off the west coast of South America, is a remnant of the Farallon Plate which has been subducting beneath the American Plates since the Atlantic began to open, some 160 million years ago. To the south of Mexico, the Cocos Plate is also subducting beneath the western edge of the Caribbean Plate, producing a volcanic chain along the west coast of Central America.
Volcanism and earthquakes will continue in these subduction zones until the remnant plates are fully consumed. Popocatepetl, just 45 miles southeast of Mexico City, poses a significant threat to that metropolis, just as Mt. Ranier does to Seattle. The last major eruption along the Trans-Mexican Volcanic Belt was of El Chichon, in 1982, but the massive, 1985 earthquake in Mexico City (which killed 10,000) was also a reminder that subduction and tectonic activity persist in the region.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Turtles in Trees
After the heavy rains of this past week, the seasonal lake at our local wetland is as high as I've ever seen it, lapping onto and over the graveled trail. As a result, the local wildlife have been forced to adapt; those that favor shallows (frogs, herons, water snakes) have moved to backwater areas or onto the flooded fields while fish have invaded the lake from adjacent, swollen streams. Aquatic turtles, their basking logs submerged by the deluge, are now lounging on the lower limbs of young sycamores that rise from the drowned banks.
In general, the flooding has reduced the visibility of many species but, yesterday afternoon, there was still plenty of activity on the meadows and in the riparian woodlands. White-tailed deer and muskrats were more conspicuous than usual, perhaps driven from their daylight haunts by the high water. Kingfishers chattered above the lake, feasting on the influx of prey, while dragonflies, hitting their mid-summer peak, zoomed across the wetlands. Indigo buntings, cardinals and yellow warblers contrasted with the deep green foliage and summer wildflowers (horsemint, yellow coneflowers, buttercups and Indian blanket) adorned the moist grasslands.
As summer progresses, such flooding should become less common as heat and high pressure build across the Heartland. Riding a northerly jet stream, Pacific storms will likely pass to our north and the fierce summer sun will reclaim this landscape. Then again, the remnants of a tropical storm or hurricane could sweep in from the south, producing a late summer deluge. That is the beauty of nature: she keeps us guessing!
In general, the flooding has reduced the visibility of many species but, yesterday afternoon, there was still plenty of activity on the meadows and in the riparian woodlands. White-tailed deer and muskrats were more conspicuous than usual, perhaps driven from their daylight haunts by the high water. Kingfishers chattered above the lake, feasting on the influx of prey, while dragonflies, hitting their mid-summer peak, zoomed across the wetlands. Indigo buntings, cardinals and yellow warblers contrasted with the deep green foliage and summer wildflowers (horsemint, yellow coneflowers, buttercups and Indian blanket) adorned the moist grasslands.
As summer progresses, such flooding should become less common as heat and high pressure build across the Heartland. Riding a northerly jet stream, Pacific storms will likely pass to our north and the fierce summer sun will reclaim this landscape. Then again, the remnants of a tropical storm or hurricane could sweep in from the south, producing a late summer deluge. That is the beauty of nature: she keeps us guessing!
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Wolf Spiders
My wife is not fond of spiders and those that enter our house are quickly sentenced to death; of course, I am the designated executioner. Last week, she spotted a wolf spider on the family room rug and, when I grabbed it with a napkin, eight or more tiny young scurried from its body, soon to meet their own fate if they remain indoors.
Wolf spiders are common in gardens and around human structures. Unlike the web spinners, they run down their prey, haul it to a secluded spot and devour it, a behavior for which they are named. Females lay their eggs in sacs that remain attached to their abdomen; once hatched, the young ride on her body for a period of time, feasting on one another or on other morsels of food derived from her victims.
In gardens, wolf spiders usually establish a silk-lined den from which they conduct their hunting forays. Since they destroy many harmful insects, their presence is welcomed by most gardeners, at least by those not victims of arachnophobia.
Wolf spiders are common in gardens and around human structures. Unlike the web spinners, they run down their prey, haul it to a secluded spot and devour it, a behavior for which they are named. Females lay their eggs in sacs that remain attached to their abdomen; once hatched, the young ride on her body for a period of time, feasting on one another or on other morsels of food derived from her victims.
In gardens, wolf spiders usually establish a silk-lined den from which they conduct their hunting forays. Since they destroy many harmful insects, their presence is welcomed by most gardeners, at least by those not victims of arachnophobia.
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