A friend from college is blogging his thoughts and observations about living in Netherlands. So today's plug is for his site, Science in the Low Country (http://lowcountryscience.blogspot.com/).
What it's about? Well, his blog description probably best sums it:
A blog by a midwestern professor of engineering on sabbatical in Holland. Probably just stories about bikes, academia, science, and the occasional inappropriate political rant.
If you'd like a different take on things, check it out.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Mists and Light
It starts mid-day, first a few drops, then lightning and thunder. No matter how many tmes I've heard that crack before in February, it seems odd. Thunderstorms and winter are not supposed to mix in a northern city, but they do. Today they do.
The sheets come down, erasing the vestiges of snow, though even when night arrives and I'm heading home, a few patches of white remain. Just a few amidst the water and it is water, pools of water. Cars carefully drive through the larger depths, sending waves which ripple to the sidewalk, slide over the curb, and wash the concrete.
It a wet city, a soaked city. At one intersection, a five or six feet wide pool hugs the edge of street. I stop and head down the block to find a place where I can jump across without drenching a shoe in fifty degree water. Still it's wondrous--the slickness, the reflections of light from businesses. Everything glows.
Especially when downtown stands tall with its skyscrapers. The bustle of work has left, but a few people scurry. A few leasurely walk. I spy the tallest of the scrapers, the iconic Sears Tower. Halfway up, the clouds obscure, shrouding the building. Yet, further up there is a brightness, a halo among the clouds, as lights pour into night, unveiling the two rooftop antennae.
There is something to nature, even our nature, something to streams and downpours, something to letting it saturate sight. Sometimes it comes with a crackle and it lights in odd fashions. Today is one of those days. It's a moment, a moment to gather and hold and squeeze and cherish and live.
The sheets come down, erasing the vestiges of snow, though even when night arrives and I'm heading home, a few patches of white remain. Just a few amidst the water and it is water, pools of water. Cars carefully drive through the larger depths, sending waves which ripple to the sidewalk, slide over the curb, and wash the concrete.
It a wet city, a soaked city. At one intersection, a five or six feet wide pool hugs the edge of street. I stop and head down the block to find a place where I can jump across without drenching a shoe in fifty degree water. Still it's wondrous--the slickness, the reflections of light from businesses. Everything glows.
Especially when downtown stands tall with its skyscrapers. The bustle of work has left, but a few people scurry. A few leasurely walk. I spy the tallest of the scrapers, the iconic Sears Tower. Halfway up, the clouds obscure, shrouding the building. Yet, further up there is a brightness, a halo among the clouds, as lights pour into night, unveiling the two rooftop antennae.
There is something to nature, even our nature, something to streams and downpours, something to letting it saturate sight. Sometimes it comes with a crackle and it lights in odd fashions. Today is one of those days. It's a moment, a moment to gather and hold and squeeze and cherish and live.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Soaking in the Rays
It’s 4:10. The sun’s light is dipping into a vibrant gold, soft yet vibrant. Five days ago, this hue painted the landscape, and I watched and waited for a bus ride to home. I remember the waiting and the color, how it glinted off car windshields and made even the parking lot appear momentarily like a tropical fruit medley, something I would eagerly taste.
On some days, this is the hour before sunset. A rustle of branches not yet budding. Patches of snow from a weekend snow. Thin dabs of clouds drifting as if there were lily pads for the sky. And the relative arc of the nearby star.
The sun! The sunlight! I could drink it a thousand times again and it would still cast its rays on the land on a few days like today. It’s shining a peace for a moment, a taste full and quenching. I don’t know if I’ll ever paint a hue quite like it, but desire demands the effort.
On some days, this is the hour before sunset. A rustle of branches not yet budding. Patches of snow from a weekend snow. Thin dabs of clouds drifting as if there were lily pads for the sky. And the relative arc of the nearby star.
The sun! The sunlight! I could drink it a thousand times again and it would still cast its rays on the land on a few days like today. It’s shining a peace for a moment, a taste full and quenching. I don’t know if I’ll ever paint a hue quite like it, but desire demands the effort.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Remembering Chicago
Hospital architecture can often be uninspired and utilitarian, but most of the buildings at Michael Reese couldn’t be further from this assessment. The main hospital building is the absolute gem of the complex. A Chicago School building designed by the firm of Schmidt, Garden and Martin of Ward’s Warehouse and Schoenhofen Brewery fame, the building exudes the influence of Louis Sullivan as well as Hugh Garden’s own distinct style. The building is truly something unique in the realm of Chicago’s architecture.
The passage and the accompanying photograph is from the web site, Forgotten Chicago, which is dedicated to uncovering, showcasing, and preserving the architecture of the city. Even though I haved lived in the suburbs for most of my life, Chicago is my city, so it's great to read and find out about my "hometown".
There are several people, especially Jacab and Serhii, involved in the site. Their desire and curiousity propel not only the site, but also speaking engagements and walking tours. I actually have had the chance to be on one of their tours. Its focus was the above-mentioned Michael Reese Hospital. The hospital campus is, for the most part, unused at this time. It was quite an eerie and enlightening experience to be walking among the buildings. My thanks go to everyone involved with Forgotten Chicago for that afternoon.
You can learn more about other hidden treasures at their web site, http://forgottenchicago.com/. They have a feature about the hospital, which is slated for demolition if Chicago captures the 2016 Olympic bid. If this happens, part of Chicago's history will be lost. I have stood outside the main hospital building (the above image shown) and can wholeheartedly agree that it should be preserved in some fashion.
If you enjoy architecture or history or simply want to know more about Chicago, click and take a look.
The passage and the accompanying photograph is from the web site, Forgotten Chicago, which is dedicated to uncovering, showcasing, and preserving the architecture of the city. Even though I haved lived in the suburbs for most of my life, Chicago is my city, so it's great to read and find out about my "hometown".
There are several people, especially Jacab and Serhii, involved in the site. Their desire and curiousity propel not only the site, but also speaking engagements and walking tours. I actually have had the chance to be on one of their tours. Its focus was the above-mentioned Michael Reese Hospital. The hospital campus is, for the most part, unused at this time. It was quite an eerie and enlightening experience to be walking among the buildings. My thanks go to everyone involved with Forgotten Chicago for that afternoon.
You can learn more about other hidden treasures at their web site, http://forgottenchicago.com/. They have a feature about the hospital, which is slated for demolition if Chicago captures the 2016 Olympic bid. If this happens, part of Chicago's history will be lost. I have stood outside the main hospital building (the above image shown) and can wholeheartedly agree that it should be preserved in some fashion.
If you enjoy architecture or history or simply want to know more about Chicago, click and take a look.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
People Reading Spotlight
From time to time, I will showcase what I think are terrific web sites. The first is a site from a woman named Sonya Worthy. She meets readers and asks them what they are reading. After the conversation and a snapshot, she then posts an entry about each person, the book being read, and the thoughts exchanged.
The genres of the books run the spectrum from historical fiction and instructional to romance novels. Everything can find the stage here. Though, what's especially wonderful about Sonya's blog is that, besides spotlighting the joy of reading, she does a great job of presenting people, young, old, locals, and travelers. She doesn't want a simple black and white, but likes to show living in color.
Her passion and dedication are a delightful treat. I recommend visiting People Reading.
http://peoplereading.blogspot.com/
The genres of the books run the spectrum from historical fiction and instructional to romance novels. Everything can find the stage here. Though, what's especially wonderful about Sonya's blog is that, besides spotlighting the joy of reading, she does a great job of presenting people, young, old, locals, and travelers. She doesn't want a simple black and white, but likes to show living in color.
Her passion and dedication are a delightful treat. I recommend visiting People Reading.
http://peoplereading.blogspot.com/
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Beginning
The recent news, in typical fashion, has been focusing on the negative: roadside bombs, banks in trouble, mortages in foreclosure, people losing their jobs. Yes, it has been devastating for many. I know what's it's like having financial pressures since I didn't have a job for over a year and then was severely underemployed (that means making very little) for even longer.
Yet I believe there are many things in life that go unmentioned or not often recalled. I would like to mention those moments, those people, those landscapes. There is something to this living. As Robert Pirsig writes at the end of his book, Zen and The Art of Motorcycle Maintanence:
Trials never end, of course. Unhappiness and misfortune are bound to occur as long as people live, but there is a feeling now, that was not here before, and is not just on the surface of things, but penetrates all the way through: We've won it. It's going to be better now. You can sort of tell these things.
I've started this blog because of that feeling. It's a wacky, wonderful world, not necessarily fair or pain-free, but it's still a wide space to explore. I'd like to explore.
I hope you enjoy the visit to this blog.
Yet I believe there are many things in life that go unmentioned or not often recalled. I would like to mention those moments, those people, those landscapes. There is something to this living. As Robert Pirsig writes at the end of his book, Zen and The Art of Motorcycle Maintanence:
Trials never end, of course. Unhappiness and misfortune are bound to occur as long as people live, but there is a feeling now, that was not here before, and is not just on the surface of things, but penetrates all the way through: We've won it. It's going to be better now. You can sort of tell these things.
I've started this blog because of that feeling. It's a wacky, wonderful world, not necessarily fair or pain-free, but it's still a wide space to explore. I'd like to explore.
I hope you enjoy the visit to this blog.
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