The desert smells amazing.
I jump down from the truck and pause to breath in as deeply as I can. It rained last night, and the desert is remade. The sand is pockmarked, not a single track remains. Every plant is fit to burst and shallow pools of water fill sandstone basins. The Virgin River is running, and running clear.
I swing on my backpack and jump the gate to Area 31. Everything is still and absolute silence pervades. It is as though the entire desert is sleeping in after a late night celebrating. Behind me the sun is a molten orange globe just breaking the horizon and the distant mesas appear purple in the morning atmosphere. Today will be a cool 91F, down right pleasant in my mind after a week at 100F. I adjust the setting on my receiver and drop down over a basalt ledge, looking for critters.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Desert Decorations
We find a lot of random stuff working in the desert everyday. Brochures, plastic bags, half eaten lunches, and shot gun shells to mention just some of the eclectic garbage at large.
(Side note: I have been so lucky not to find any corpses as yet, though I hear one year they found a pile of euthanized dogs from the pound. How's that for depressing? Have your pets spayed or neutered.)
One of the supreme and somewhat abundant desert finds are balloons. Sure, we have your standard rubber balloons, but I mean the big, colorful, obnoxious, metallic, once-helium-filled balloons. Valentine octopus with a heart on each tentacle declaring it's adoration? Got it. St. Patrick's Day mug of foaming beer? Done. It's a boy! You bet.
Balloon finds are rated on a 5 point scale, derived from a weighted consideration of size, color, and originality. Though only given a 3.5 by group vote, I am particularly proud of today's find which I laboriously removed from a creosote some distance off transect. Complete with a bouquet of partially deflated rubber balloons, I wish the class of 2009 good luck in their ventures and thank them for covering our empty living room wall.
The opportunity to spell out "poop" did not go unnoted, you who are giggling.
(Side note: I have been so lucky not to find any corpses as yet, though I hear one year they found a pile of euthanized dogs from the pound. How's that for depressing? Have your pets spayed or neutered.)
One of the supreme and somewhat abundant desert finds are balloons. Sure, we have your standard rubber balloons, but I mean the big, colorful, obnoxious, metallic, once-helium-filled balloons. Valentine octopus with a heart on each tentacle declaring it's adoration? Got it. St. Patrick's Day mug of foaming beer? Done. It's a boy! You bet.
Balloon finds are rated on a 5 point scale, derived from a weighted consideration of size, color, and originality. Though only given a 3.5 by group vote, I am particularly proud of today's find which I laboriously removed from a creosote some distance off transect. Complete with a bouquet of partially deflated rubber balloons, I wish the class of 2009 good luck in their ventures and thank them for covering our empty living room wall.
The opportunity to spell out "poop" did not go unnoted, you who are giggling.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Reflections on the St. George Farmers Market
Farmers' markets are one of my favorite activity for a quiet Saturday morning. I like the lazy walk through the streets, people watching, and meandering through the crowds. I like the street music and the site of fresh local produce stacked on shaded tables straight off the bed of a pickup truck (...or out of a van). I like the feeling of both community and anonymity.
Today being a quiet Saturday morning (I have been to Salt Lake City, Red Rocks, and the Grand Canyon in the last three weeks and I'm pretty well exhausted), I struck out to find the St. George farmers market, of which I had heard rumors.
The site was pathetic.
I walked the tiny circle of booths once and was about to leave when I thought to myself, If I don't buy anything here, it's the same as if I didn't come. These people are trying to provide something this community clearly is not embracing, and this is a situation in which my money is the best way to support what I believe in. I doubled back on the meager offerings and, in the end, was quite pleased with my find of local organic oranges, fresh peas, cage free eggs, and a moist, delicious loaf of homemade sunflower bread.
With most things I buy in life, the thing is for some purpose and my money is a means to an end. They say consumers have power, but I usually feel as though my money is dropped unnoticed into a black hole. Except at a farmers market. Nothing makes me feel so powerful as a consumer as handing my food dollars directly to the people who produced my food, not to mention connected and knowledgeable about my consumption. This is one of the very few places I feel as though how I choose to spend my money actually makes a difference.
Tips for the farmers market:
* walk the market end to end before making any hasty purchases; this way you have a good idea of what is being sold that week and what the going price is
* bring small bills and change; as the day progresses, farmers may be less able to break your $20
* bring reused plastic bags to put loose or wet produce in; this save farmers from having to provide bags for you
** I usually have a spare dollar or two in my pocket for my favorite street performer
Today being a quiet Saturday morning (I have been to Salt Lake City, Red Rocks, and the Grand Canyon in the last three weeks and I'm pretty well exhausted), I struck out to find the St. George farmers market, of which I had heard rumors.
The site was pathetic.
I walked the tiny circle of booths once and was about to leave when I thought to myself, If I don't buy anything here, it's the same as if I didn't come. These people are trying to provide something this community clearly is not embracing, and this is a situation in which my money is the best way to support what I believe in. I doubled back on the meager offerings and, in the end, was quite pleased with my find of local organic oranges, fresh peas, cage free eggs, and a moist, delicious loaf of homemade sunflower bread.
With most things I buy in life, the thing is for some purpose and my money is a means to an end. They say consumers have power, but I usually feel as though my money is dropped unnoticed into a black hole. Except at a farmers market. Nothing makes me feel so powerful as a consumer as handing my food dollars directly to the people who produced my food, not to mention connected and knowledgeable about my consumption. This is one of the very few places I feel as though how I choose to spend my money actually makes a difference.
Tips for the farmers market:
* walk the market end to end before making any hasty purchases; this way you have a good idea of what is being sold that week and what the going price is
* bring small bills and change; as the day progresses, farmers may be less able to break your $20
* bring reused plastic bags to put loose or wet produce in; this save farmers from having to provide bags for you
** I usually have a spare dollar or two in my pocket for my favorite street performer
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Decisions
Two weeks ago I was contacted by an admissions adviser at Arizona State University who was trying to pare down the priority wait list. As I had not received the fellowship I had been hoping for - the Urban Ecology IGERT - I told her that I, having no funding, thought my name should be removed from that list. She said she understood and that seemed to be that.
I took this all as a sign I should continue on my current nomad path, jumping around from job to job, and make good on my long-time plans of moving to New Zealand. A week and a half passed and I was just starting to feel sure about the next year-or-so when I received an email from admissions at Arizona State. I have been accepted to the Ph.D. program at the School of Sustainability, with the understanding that should I not have luck in coming up with funding for 2009, my acceptance will be defered for Fall of 2010...
The situation is ideal. I still get to work a couple more jobs, live 9 or 10 months in New Zealand, all the while coming up with funding and connections for my doctorate work....
It's too ideal; it makes me nervous, and uncertain. How do I know when I've chosen the right school? I haven't made many connections with researchers, but I've been having difficulty finding someone who does what I am interested in. I didn't even try to get into a more prestigous school...should I have? Prestige doesn't mean much if they don't have a program that's suited to my goals, but after Oregon State, I don't want that question nagging at me. If I'm gonna do it right, this is my opportunity to do so. I've got a lot to think about.
I took this all as a sign I should continue on my current nomad path, jumping around from job to job, and make good on my long-time plans of moving to New Zealand. A week and a half passed and I was just starting to feel sure about the next year-or-so when I received an email from admissions at Arizona State. I have been accepted to the Ph.D. program at the School of Sustainability, with the understanding that should I not have luck in coming up with funding for 2009, my acceptance will be defered for Fall of 2010...
The situation is ideal. I still get to work a couple more jobs, live 9 or 10 months in New Zealand, all the while coming up with funding and connections for my doctorate work....
It's too ideal; it makes me nervous, and uncertain. How do I know when I've chosen the right school? I haven't made many connections with researchers, but I've been having difficulty finding someone who does what I am interested in. I didn't even try to get into a more prestigous school...should I have? Prestige doesn't mean much if they don't have a program that's suited to my goals, but after Oregon State, I don't want that question nagging at me. If I'm gonna do it right, this is my opportunity to do so. I've got a lot to think about.
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