Magnolia Blossoms_2019

My annual collection of magnolia blossoms appear below.  On the second day of taking these pictures, I took something like 530 pictures. Once I downloaded them onto the computer, I had to sort through them and kept something like half. It was a windy day and my shutter speed wasn't always fast enough. I was also moving between an aperture setting and a shutter speed setting as I worked on capturing what I thought might be a great shot. The thirteen pictures appearing below are probably the best ones. These magnolia blossoms got my wife singing a Grateful Dead song, which is a feat in itself. If I should happen to come across any other pictures that might be worth sharing, I will add them in another post.

Winter Sliding South

What may be the last remnants of winter has been sliding down the Missouri River. The river probably won't be iced over any more this season.  I was outside in the late afternoon when the geese were flying to their roosts. In other parts of town, the geese fly much lower, announcing their presence long before they become visible. You will have to enlarge these pictures to see the geese flying overhead.

Although I thought of using one of these pictures in my online classes to identify a module in Canvas, I decided my students are probably tired of winter and want to see something a bit more colorful. I know I am looking forward to warmer days.

Ice on the Missouri River

Last week, during a lull in my online teaching and after the weather began to warm up a little, I went walking with my camera and got some pictures of the Missouri River. The ice was more prominent at first. Over the course of three days, the ice nearly disappeared. More ice will be forming soon, despite the prediction of the ground hog in Pennsylvania, more than a thousand miles to the east.

Reading in 2018

Like the years 2016 and 2017, in which I read 22 books each year, I read 22 books during 2018 as well. As I mentioned once before, I don’t include those books of poetry that I read during the year because I don’t know when I can say that I have fully read a book of poems. The great majority of my reading during the year focused on nonfiction, with the exception of three novels by Ivan Doig that I read early in the year.

 In addition to reading Ivan Doig’s Bartender’s Tale and Last Bus to Wisdom, both of which were readily available at the local Barnes & Noble, and both of which make up his best novels, I read his Ride with Me, Mariah Montana, which my son ordered for me from one of the merchants at Amazon. I have since ordered secondhand copies of four other books by Ivan Doig and plan on reading them during the current year. These new additions to my library help to bring the total number of books listed at LibraryThing to 971, which is 29 more than the number of books listed during January, 2017.

As I mentioned in 2017, the historian Elliot West in his collection of essays introduced me to some of the western writers that I had overlooked, namely, Ivan Doig and Mary Clearman Blew. My reading Blew’s Bone Deep in Landscape has also introduced me to novels that I have neglected by A.B. Guthrie, Jr., and Mildred Walker, something which I plan on correcting soon. Blew manages to mix memoir with literary criticism and vivid descriptions of place, particularly Montana and Idaho, in not only Bone Deep in Landscape but also in This Is Not the Ivy League and Balsamroot. Blew in Bone Deep in Landscape recognizes that the “western landscape is permeated with private associations contained in memory and family narrative.”

Linda Hasselstrom records her daily observations and her memories in Gathering from the Grassland, a book that details the passing of a year. Hasselstrom places a great deal of attention on the lives of her father and mother, whose correspondence and journals she describes and analyzes. Tara Westover describes her own family life in Educated, a book that has gained a lot of attention. It surprised me how often the writer felt compelled to return home even when she was living overseas. She was lucky to have the money to fly from London to Idaho during Christmas break, for example. The issue of how the writer supported herself overseas is not addressed in the book.

The remainder of my reading for the year falls into three categories—history relating to the Native people in this country, more recent history, and the natural world. Finding a number of references to the Nez Perce in Blew’s memoirs and not terribly familiar with the Native people of the Northwest, I read Daniel J. Sharfstein’s Thunder in the Mountains: Chief Joseph, Oliver Otis Howard, and the Nez Perce War. Previously, I was aware that Chief Joseph and about 400 members of his band were imprisoned at Fort Leavenworth in or near the area that now contains the airport. Many places in Kansas once contained the voices of the Native people.

My reading of Vernon R. Maddux and Albert Glenn Maddux’s In Dull Knife’s Wake: The True Story of the Northern Cheyenne Exodus of 1878 makes me want to return to western Kansas to see the remnants of the Battle of Punished Woman's Fork. I had overlooked that area when I was visiting Scott County Lake and Monument Rocks about ten years ago. Some of my other reading, that is, Give me Eighty Men, Where One Hundred Soldiers Were Killed and The Wagon Box Fight, related to the trip that my wife and made to Wyoming in 2016.

I was surprised to see the emphasis on Christianity when I was reading Indianapolis and Killers of the Flower Moon. Many people learned of the USS Indianapolis in the Steven Spielberg movie Jaws, when the character Quint describes his eyewitness account of the sailors eaten by sharks during the four days that the crew of the USS Indianapolis awaited rescue after their ship was torpedoed by a Japanese submarine.  Lynn Vincent and Sara Vladic in Indianapolis: The True Story of the Worst Sea Disaster in U.S. Naval History and the Fifty-Year Fight to Exonerate an Innocent Man provide a history of the ship. Vincent turns over the narrative to Vladic, once the ship has been torpedoed, and Vladic’s religious faith becomes strongly present as Vladic describes, in detail, the appeals that the sailors made to their God. These appeals could have easily been given less attention. Likewise, some of the coincidences that occurred while the sailors were in the water could have not been related to prayers; it’s the author who makes the connection between a fortuitous event and prayer. A similar emphasis on religious faith appears in Killers of the Flower Moon: The Osage Murders and the Birth of the FBI when David Grann, the author, quotes a poem that “echoed Jesus’s command in the Sermon on the Mount” when the block quote is totally unnecessary. The author provides another block quote taken from “Dies Irae,” what the author describes as a “rhythmic thirteenth-century hymn.” Neither quote is essential to the narrative. While I can understand that some people are more religious than I, I think that these authors interject too much of their religious faith in these books.  These writers shouldn’t assume that their intended audience shares their religious faith.

Out of the books related to nature that I read during 2018, I most enjoyed Quakeland and The Death and Life of the Great Lakes. My students often believe that essays derived from research should not include relevant references to the author because of things that they learned from their high school teachers. Both Dan Egan in The Death and Life of the Great Lakes and Kathryn Miles in Quakeland: On the Road to American’s Next Devastating Earthquake put themselves in their books, with Miles revealing what led to her interest and what discoveries that she made during her research, and with Egan revealing his observations, his experiences, and his interactions with the people interviewed for the book. Both books are excellently written, informative, and well-researched.

Although I plan on reading and possibly obtaining either new or used copies of Maxine Gordon’s Sophisticated Giant: The Life and Legacy of Dexter Gordon and Leonardo Trasande’s Sicker, Fatter, Poorer during the current year, and although I see myself discovering one or two novels by D’Arcy McNickle, I expect to buy fewer books during 2019 and to content myself with what I have left unread on my book shelves. I may eventually return to some of the books that I read when I was younger, such as Herman Hesse’s Steppenwolf or Siddhartha, Knut Hamsun’s Hunger, Pan, Victoria, or Growth of the Soil, or D. H. Lawrence’s Rainbow or Aaron’s Rod, to see whether they still have any appeal to me.