Green heron

Just walking, I happened to veer to the small lake nearby and discovered a green heron intently gazing at the water’s surface.  The heron perched on a concrete culvert in the bright sun on the edge of the lake, blue sky above, green water below.  Rocking slightly in the breeze on bent, sturdy legs and anchored by long toes, waiting …waiting for a ripple in the water, a movement that might mean dinner.

Click on image to view larger.

 I think of these smallish herons as shy birds, easily bothered and not tolerant of prolonged observation.  I quickly took a photo or two, and tried to spend the remaining precious moments in deep observation.  Ki flew off within minutes, not sure of my intentions.  I made a few drawings afterwards, and starting learning more about green herons. 

 This green heron was not exactly green, but had green glints and highlights along darker back body feathers. A beautiful russet-colored neck patch, body structure, yellow legs and eyes add to the distinctive markings.  A year-round resident of Florida, populations swell at times with migrating kin from the north.     

 I read that breeding season in Florida starts in March and runs through July, so perhaps this heron was out hunting for food for the family.  One of our smaller herons, about the size of a large crow, they like to inhabit the edges of wetlands, with food on one side and cover on the other.  With a stocky build and a long thick neck settled on shoulders, they can look ungainly on land. 

A fascinating item – green herons sometimes use tools to catch food, one of a few species that do this.  They drop twigs, insects or other tidbits onto the water surface to entice fish to surface and feed within their reach.  Debate may continue over definitions of tools and tool use, but many agree that this type of behavior indicates an increased intelligence. 

 Things to think about. 

Want to read more about green herons?

Wikipedia:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Green_heron

Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission fact sheet: 
https://myfwc.com/media/19710/bba_grhe.pdf

ebird.org:  https://ebird.org/species/grnher  

Media
Aquabee sketchbook, 6x9”
.7 mm mechanical pencil
Micron Pigma Pen, black 01
Kimberly watercolor pencils
Niji waterbrush, Medium

Mistflower

 

“The smallest flower is a thought,
a life answering to
some feature of the Great Whole...”
~ Honore de Balzac

There is a wildflower I’m especially fond of that comes up along the edges and unlikely places in my yard, and starts blooming in late summer.  It always makes me happy to see the tiny toothed leaves emerge from the ground, because I know that they’ve reseeded and will do just fine with absolutely no help from me.  It’s still blooming in late November but going to seed.  The common name is Mistflower; these have blooms of lavender and soft violet, and from a distance the many stamens and coloring sometimes gives the appearance of distant mist drifting over the ground.  

I’m often fascinated by the self-similarity of its leaves.  Each tiny leaf a miniature of the largest.  You could argue that many plants are like this (and some are), but it’s the way these branch and divide and arrange its heart-shaped leaves that captivates me.  I’m not good at fractal geometry, but I enjoy how Mistflower shows up in the world.  If you don’t know fractals, here is a partial definition from the FractalFoundation,org:  “Fractals are infinitely complex patterns that are self-similar across different scales.” 

The tiny leaves are miniatures of the largest leaves.

Patterns appear everywhere in nature – some seem random, and some quite precise.  Some patterns depend on the macro or the micro view.  When I think of self-similar things, I’m reminded of mineral structures.  I know, an unlikely sideways jaunt from botany to geology – but this is one of the things I love about nature journaling.  I never know where it might take me.

Those who know me well, know that I also love rocks.  Geology is a huge part of the why of things, but that’s a subject for another time.  One of the more interesting things I’ve learned is that the atomic structure of a mineral is reflected in the external crystal structure.  In other words, we can look at pure salt crystals in our hand and predict that we’ll see similar crystal shapes under the microscope.  This is because they fracture along specific structural lines.  Other minerals and impurities can change this, but generally the microscopic pattern determines the real-world pattern. 

I don’t know enough to say that this is what happens in the plant world, just saying that the natural world is an amazing place and full of unexpected patterns and connections.  We just have to change our viewpoint.   Do you find yourself fascinated by patterns as well?  What connections do you make? 

My nature journal page.

Media: 

• Micron Pigma 01 pen
• Kimberly watercolor pencils
• Aquabee Super Deluxe drawing paper 93 lb.

For more about Mistflower
From Florida Wildflower: https://flawildflowers.org/flower-friday-conoclinium-coelestinum/

Dip into fractals
Fractals in nature from Dave’s Garden:  https://davesgarden.com/guides/articles/view/1966

Fractals in everything: https://news.globallandscapesforum.org/43195/fractals-nature-almost-all-things/

A long but fascinating article on why fractals resonate with us:
https://www.theatlantic.com/science/archive/2017/01/why-fractals-are-so-soothing/514520/

Dig into mineral structures

Cleavage and fracture properties explained in easy-to-understand language on page 4:

https://www.baschools.org/vimages/shared/vnews/stories/5034e6f71f062/Chapter%2014%20Section%20Two.pdf

An open textbook, in-depth on crystal morphology: https://opengeology.org/Mineralogy/10-crystal-morphology-and-symmetry/

 

 

An experiment in nature writing – changing a two-letter word

I recently attended a one-hour online writing workshop with Rebecca Rolnick, where she led us in an exploration of “the grammar of animacy."  This phrase shows up in a book called Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer, which I’ve been reading off and on for the past few months.  It’s taking me a while to read because every page requires a day of reflection!  The full title is Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants, so that gives you an idea of the scope.

Nature journal sketch and poem.
Click to view larger.

What is animacy?

Animacy refers to a feature of language that expresses the “aliveness” or sentience of something.   For me, the word sentience represents awareness and a capacity for feelings and conscious action.   We tend to think of a thing as either animate or inanimate, but there are gray areas involved when it comes to personal meaning.  Reflect for a moment on how you think about the natural world, and how you relate to the essence of something within it.  Do birds have feelings?  How aware are bees?  Can trees communicate? 

The old two-letter word

There is a degree of scale involved here, and a built-in order of importance when it comes to pronouns.  The idea of “it” vs “he” or “she” is an expression of the degree of animacy.  Things in nature are typically an “it”.  We typically use the pronoun “it” to refer to rocks, trees, birds, panthers and porcupines.  People are seldom referred to this way, and when they are it has a negative meaning. 

It seems that animacy used in everyday language in my culture is based not so much on how sentient a thing is, but on its relevance to the speaker.  For example, someone may refer to a cat as “it” but a dearly loved pet is nearly always a she or he.  They are important to us, they are relevant – they are family.

I too speak and write like this, in spite of a feeling of kinship with living things (which include a deep-seated feeling that rocks have awareness).  “It” is what I’ve been taught – the good grammar of communication.  Not to mention that the word “it” is a useful, multi-meaning and functional term. 

The new two-letter word

After a conversation on the idea of animacy, the words we use, and the meanings we give them, Rebecca spoke of a new pronoun for nature proposed by Robin Wall Kimmerer to replace the “it” pronoun when referring to things of nature.  We needed a word that signifies animacy. 

In a 2015 essay for Yes! Magazine, Robin relates how Stewart King suggested to her that the proper Anishinaabe word for “beings of the living Earth” would be Bemaadiziiaaki.  Stewart was a Potawatomi elder and spiritual teacher who mentored Robin’s return to her Native American roots and ancestral language.  Robin shortens Bemaadiziiaaki to two new pronouns “ki” and “kin”.   Ki takes the place of it, he, or she.  Kin replaces the plural pronoun they.  

As part of our writing exploration last week, Rebecca challenged us to try using these pronouns.

I tried using ki as a nature pronoun instead of “it”.  Not to humanize nature, or to drape my subject with an anthropomorphic cloak, but to see if there was a difference.  I had been thinking about a poem to go with a recent nature sketch, but the pronoun for my imagined birdling showed up only once.  I went ahead anyway and substituted ki for it.

Was there a difference in how I felt?  Yes.

What happened? 

No trumpets sounded, but somewhere in the sub-basement of my consciousness, I felt a tremor.  Something shifted (in a positive way).  Because it’s still dark down there, I’m not sure what happened.  As I’ve gotten older, I realize that I tend to process profound emotional changes through my physical body, and this was a core body feeling. 

So… something did change, felt in heart and body.  I feel a new closeness, a deeper link that’s hard to describe.  I’m already reevaluating my relationship to nature and the responsibilities that emerge when kinship ties deepen.  Every rock I’ve collected, every plant transplanted and seeds sown where kin have no business living.  

I have to stop thinking at some point because I am overwhelmed. 

Will changing my nature pronouns change how I think and speak and write and live?  I hope so.  Using ki and kin signifies something – connections strengthened, a sense of family instilled.  We treat friends differently than strangers.  But habits are persistent, and the old ways tend to creep back in.  Perhaps with this bit of awareness, I’m making a place for ki and kin until they become old friends.

Want to explore more?  Here are some links for you:

The workshop

The title of the online workshop is Nature Journal Writing Workshop Wednesdays, led by Rebecca Rolnick, a biologist, writer, and environmental educator.  The workshop is open to anyone and free, with a donation option.  During the one I attended last week, an idea was discussed, then we explored the concept with a short writing time, and ended the hour by sharing our words. 

https://www.rebeccarolnick.com/nature-journal-writing-workshop?fbclid=IwAR3QF6y-X4glB0JcL-mbmd1NOQaLUz0EPaJ8-8dmP3CejQUoWLwTJJBGi60

The book

Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants by Robin Wall Kimmerer.  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Braiding_Sweetgrass

 Essays by Robin Wall Kimmerer

“Nature Needs a New Pronoun: To Stop the Age of Extinction, Let’s Start by Ditching ‘It”’

Yes! Magazine, March 30, 2015.  https://www.yesmagazine.org/issue/together-earth/2015/03/30/alternative-grammar-a-new-language-of-kinship

 “Speaking of Nature.”  Orion Magazine, June 12, 2017.  https://orionmagazine.org/article/speaking-of-nature/

 I’d love to know your thoughts on animacy.  What do you feel or think or have experienced?  

Collections: the joy of small things in my nature journals

Sandstone rocks, Red Rock Canyon, Nevada

There is a magic in the small things of life.  All my life I have been a collector of bits and pieces of nature. 

 I’ve had soda crates filled with rocks under my bed, nests and feathers tucked into a shoebox, bits of leaves and flowers pressed into books, shells and driftwood in plastic tubs.  My parents begged me to leave the rocks behind when we moved.  How could I?  They were from places visited and each one held a memory – my own little Cabinets of Curiosities.

I love the tiny pieces of life that tell a story of the world around me. It might be a leaf; it might be an acorn cracked by a squirrel.  It might be a broken shell, maybe be a piece of wave-washed coral.  Altogether, these parts tell a whole story.

Things from my yard, Naples, Florida

I do my collecting in images now.  The act of drawing or painting an assortment of natural objects brings me joy.  Each page is a cabinet of curiosity, and each natural object relates to the other.  

 

What is it about humans that drives us to collect, store, and display these bits of the natural world?  I’ve only collected found objects, but there are big game hunters and orchid collectors and pot hunters who are not so benign.  I’ve often wondered at the motivation to gather these items.  What deeper meaning drives this behavior?  How does this shape our relationship to Nature?  

For me, it's because they tell of my travels and I want to revisit that story.   They represent discarded remnants (a fallen nest), or clues of a past meal (the cracked acorn), or a story of the passage of time (a fossil shell).  These are important things.  They are treasures, and they hold magic.  The magic is in the life that went before, and the story told now. 

On your next hike or visit to the ocean or park, look for those small pieces of nature – let them fill your life with that same magic of discovery that fills every joyful five-year-old child.   Let their story connect to yours.  These connections can fill us with humility, wonder, and awe of the vibrancy of life, until we are filled and overflowing, then to share our story.

Things from along the Upper Iowa River prairie bottom
Decorah, Iowa

Things from my yard, Naples, Florida

Things from the shore, Gulf of Mexico
Naples, Florida

Everywhere you look

 

From the door of the dentist's office...

There's no end
To the Love
You can Give
When you change your point of view
To Underfoot

~ Amanda Palmer

Nature is all around us.  Art is everywhere.

Life is being expressed in the smallest, everyday parts of our world.

So look down… then look out… and up…

Every molecule is energized, alive, doing its thing.  No matter what you may be doing.

Like the fish in the bowl we forget that we are swimming in something amazing.

Like fractal patterns, life shares its story, repeats, changes and reshapes itself.  Stepping away turns chaos into pattern.

It is a good thing to pay attention to the parts of the whole, to stay connected to the little bits.

So look down… and out… and up…

…see the wonder.

“Nothing is so mundane that is cannot be a source of wonder, creativity, love, and the deep satisfaction of being alive, here and now.”  ~ Deepak Chopra

Media
Aquabee sketchbook, 6x9”
Sakura Micron Pigma 02 pen (well-worn)
Daniel Smith watercolors  (Botanical half-pan set)
Mondeluz watercolor pencils
Niji waterbrush, Medium