Tag Archives: wondering

Schooled: SOL23 Day 2

They’re everywhere. Seemingly multiplying when they come in close proximity. Some are orange, others lime green. Like a school of fish, we all move together shifting left then right, never getting out of formation for fear of an impending tumble, or worse still, a dreaded crash! If you’re lucky, you can hear them coming up behind you. If you’re not, that frozen feeling creeps up your back and you don’t know whether to move right or left or just stand still until they pass.

And they move fast! The hurry is built right into the design. No need to push off or keep the roll going with the swing of a leg. Just stand up, hold on, and go! Bikes have bells, cars have horns, and even skateboards have the click clack of wheels over concrete…but electric scooters are pretty much stealthily silent. Blank-faced riders looking straight ahead with no pretense of athletics, no helmets or elbow pads, often not even athletic footwear. Some are even actively engaged with phones, scrolling, viewing, sometimes even filming.

If only they solved the parking problem on campus or become part of the mitigation of fossil fueled commuting. Unfortunately, they seem to create their own hazards as ownerless transport left in growing herds. Maybe I need to hop on one and find their charm for myself.

A Contradiction? SOL22 Day 26

One of the things I love about walking on the beach is that it is forever different and always fascinating. Today was gray with a pretty thick marine layers covering the coast. I love low tides when the reef is exposed, the beach is wide, and if I’m lucky there will be more shore birds and other sea creatures visible.

Today it was the tiny sandpipers that caught my eye. They gather in groups, perhaps safety in numbers, and move in unison. I crept close today (they spook easily) and waited and watched with my camera at the ready. Their coloring helps them camouflage with the reef, making it hard to get great photos.

So many birds stand on one leg…and this one is a perfect example. I’m guessing it’s a way to rest. I know when I am standing a lot (like every day teaching), I find myself standing one one leg or resting one foot on the other.

As I was thinking about these birds that run and fly in perfect synch–their little feet almost like perpetual motion machines–I was also wondering about their collective noun. What is a group of sandpipers called? With a question like this, I did the usual and turned to Google. There I learned there are a number of names for a group of sandpipers including a contradiction, a fling, a hill, and even a time-step! Where do these names come from…and why? A contradiction?

If I were to choose from these nouns, I would definitely go with time-step. I love to watch their little legs move in a blur of constant motion and in perfect step with each other–definitely a time-step!

And…I was lucky enough to catch this guy mid leap! Notice the little drip of water from the tiny bird foot raised above the ground.

It’s fun to leave the beach wondering and thinking. No two days are alike and every day gets me thinking. Where do you go to think and wonder? (And maybe even walk and photograph)

Walking and Wondering: SOLC #19

I’ve walked a lot of laps around the neighborhood. Worn a pathway through the gate, along the sidewalk, turning east and then back to the west. Passing house after house after house. I’ve watched the seasons change: buds become flowers and then fall away as spring becomes summer. The days shorten and leaves drop as summer becomes autumn. I change my walking time as dark pervades and autumn becomes winter. And a year later I’m watching those trees and bushes and groundcovers begin to bud and bloom once again.

I’ve logged mile after mile. But instead of seeing the same scenes days after day, I see new sights each time I head out. Don’t get me wrong–this pathway has become tedious, boring even. I’d much rather be somewhere else, exploring new vistas, hanging out with different people, seeing places I haven’t see before. But for now, this remains my scene.

This week I noticed that a neighbor has a structure that peeks out above their hedge. Maybe the structure had always been there–but this week I noticed that it is adorned with license plates. Utah, Hawaii, Massachusetts, California, Montana… Is this a license plate collection? A record of places lived? Cars owned? A lot bid on and won from an online auction? And what is the structure? A pergola? A shed? A chicken coop?

I don’t have the answers, but the wondering makes these somewhat boring walks a bit more interesting.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Flanerie

Even when life is busy I try to make time to wander aimlessly.  Some days I am better at it than others.  When I head out with my camera without a specific goal in mind, I often find unexpected treasures…a slice of light, a shadow, a bird flying low, or something I can’t even imagine when I make the decision to wander.  And I love how the process of wandering sets off my wondering impulses, creating curiosity, leading me to further exploration and ultimately to new learning opportunities.

I didn’t know there was a name for this until I read Deanna’s blogpost the other day and learned about a course she is designing with flanerie at its heart.  The key to flanerie as I understand it, is the reflection on that wandering and wondering (through writing) that leads to new understandings of ourselves as humans and our connections in the larger world.

The past week had me wandering along the coast of northern California.  We had an overall game plan before we left home, we knew where we would spend each night but the rest of our time was unscheduled leaving room for exploration and spontaneity.  There is something magical about a redwood forest.  Trees that seem to reach up forever create their own climate.  Sun shines in slants, creating textures of light and shadow.  And there is the quiet–as dense as the trees themselves–I felt like I could hear my heart beat and focus on each breath as I walked miles through the forests.


When I learned that architect Julia Morgan had designed a structure for a space in the forest, I knew I wanted to wander there.  We headed there early, a drive through trees, in some places so narrow we wondered if our car would fit through.  The early light was soft, bringing out the greens of the stones (from the eel river, I learned).  There’s something special about a person-made structure that takes advantage of all nature offers.  This piece, Hearthstone, was built to commemorate the efforts of a group of women to save old growth trees in this forest.

In 1900, as the earliest example of a Kickstarter campaign, 65,000 women raised $45,000 to protect a stunning grove of old-growth redwoods. Their grove abuts the Rockefeller Grove, donated by the largess of one very rich man, in Humboldt Redwoods State Park, a bit north of Garberville, about 228 miles north of San Francisco.

These women organized the California Federation of Women’s Clubs. They hired Julia Morgan in 1932 to design and build a central gathering space. She designed an amazing memorial, symbolizing the power of their gift, which she called a “Hearthstone.” It is a 4-sided outdoor fireplace with four witty, poetic medallions above the mantel of each hearth.

The four corner posts supporting the roof are tree trunks, while the center masonry chimney is a human deference to the massive strength of the heroic trees. More than a simple utilitarian fireplace for cooking or heating, the folded roof converts the monument into an elegant weather-protected shelter, symbolic of a humble abode in the forest, crafted with elegant joinery of wood beams and posts, celebrating this special Eden. (http://levinearch.com/redwood-grove-shelter-by-julia-morgan/)

Here’s my photo of this beautiful structure.


And in the same space  where Julie Morgan designed a person-made structure, I found nature-made structures that inspired awe with their beauty.  I feel like I am learning about the beauty that exists in death this summer.  The redwood forest is a complex ecosystem that depends on both life and death for the health of the forest.  I watched new life grow out of decaying trunks, enriched by what was there before.  The timing was poignant as my mother-in-law died Monday morning, the forest reminded us that death continues to offer us bounty and beauty.  I was overwhelmed by the beauty of this upturned tree, nature’s art composed from the death of the tree.


And then there is new life, springing up.  It is surprising to find the delicate flowers and lacy ferns thriving beneath the tall giants.  I love when nature creates her own still life, leaving it there for me to find and capture through my lens.


From the redwoods we wandered to the beach, stopping first to explore the small town of Ferndale, CA.  The temperature dropped as we headed near the coast, making me glad I had packed some jackets.  We entered Ferndale by crossing a historic bridge over a river to enter a valley with farms dotting the landscape.  Cows were plentiful as well as barns as we drove into this Victorian village that felt like going back in time.  Our wanderings took us down narrow lanes, where we stopped off to snap a glimpse of the farming life.  (Hay bales like this will forever remind me of my cousins and spending summers in Castle Rock, WA where we rode along on the trucks as my uncles picked up and stacked the bales–something far removed from my San Diego life.)


Beaches in northern CA are nothing like beaches here.  First, the weather is cold–highs into the low and mid 60s in late July!  There are lots of sand dunes and breathtaking cliffs.  This cliff near Trinidad, CA also featured wildflowers, a treat after a harrowing and twisty turny trip down a bumpy and often one-laned road to access it.  You can see the thick fog in the distance…there was no sunset on this evening as we drove back into the fog bank to find our lodging.


We set our hopes low on the coastal journey the next day, knowing that the sunshine could be elusive.  But we were treated to a sunny day that brings out the brilliance of the blue of the sky and the sea.  It was fun to have this seagull fly right into my frame as I took this photo overlooking Glass Beach in Fort Bragg.


Further down the coast we stopped off to hike out to this lighthouse.  We could hear the sea lions vocalizing in the distance (even though we couldn’t see them) as we walked toward the point where the lighthouse sits.  You can see the light in the distance as this lighthouse continues to warn ships that land is near.


The long stretch of highway home seems to go on forever.  There’s lots of time to think and talk and to pay attention to unusual points of interest.  I have pictures of tomato trucks, log trucks, cows and more.  A collection of working oil derricks caught my attention as we crossed the central valley from Salinas to intersect highway 5.  And then I noticed this corridor of electrical towers that seems almost like a fancy entrance to southern CA.


So, enjoy some flanerie this week.  Head out and wander aimlessly.  Wander and wonder and write…and take some photos too.  What will you learn about yourself as you explore without a predetermined goal?

You can post your photo alone or along with some words: commentary, a story, a poem…maybe even a song! I love to study the photographs that others’ take and think about how I can use a technique, an angle, or their inspiration to try something new in my own photography. (I love a great mentor text…or mentor photo, in this case!) I share my photography and writing on social media. You can find me on Instagram and Twitter using @kd0602. If you share your photos and writing on social media too, please let me know so I can follow and see what you are doing. To help our Weekly Photo community find each other, use the hashtag #flanerie for this week and include @nwpianthology in your post.

Grab your camera and experiment with flanerie this week.  Wander and wonder, write some poetry or just doodle a bit (doodling is the focus of clmooc this week!). Be sure to share what you learn with the rest of us!

Urban Art?

There are two of these nailed to the telephone poles on either side of this bridge-like structure near my school.  I passed them yesterday without stopping, but today I had to take the time to capture a photograph.  They have me wondering and asking questions.


Are they urban art?  An advertisement for something?  They can definitely work as a writing prompt!  What do you think?  What story would you tell?

Connected Wondering

A friend of mine gave me two books the other day.  One I have read all the way through and the other I have browsed through.  They are alike…and they are 100% polar opposites.  The first, more of a coffee table/picture heavy book is called A Lifetime of Secrets by Frank Warren. Warren invited people to send a secret to him on a postcard or in a letter that he curated as an art installation.  They range from unthinkably horrible to silly, yet their arrangement and juxtaposition creates a powerful message.  This idea of sending anonymous secrets on the back of postcards is an interesting one–and one, and one that people seem to get relief from the sending…and maybe relief in reading the anonymous secrets of others.  Here’s a related website.

The other book is The Book of Awesome by Neil Pasricha.  This is a collection of little things that make people happy…like when you find cash in your coat pocket or the grocery store opens up a new line just when you think the wait is endless.  Each is written as short vignette–as short as a sentence or two to as long as a couple of pages.  This book also has a related website where people can submit their own awesome moments (in 1000 words or less).

What strikes me about both of these pieces is the way people want to connect–even if it is anonymously.  People seem to have an urge to know that those things that burden or delight them also resonate with others, that they are not alone.  Like these water lilies I photographed today, tangled connections seem to help us as we live and grow.


So as my thinking often does, I came back to the classroom with my thoughts about these books.  So how does the sharing of secrets and the sharing of awesome moments connect to the classroom?  I’m thinking about all those little things we do in the classroom to establish a trusting, cooperative, and collaborative community.  The ways we work to support each other in spite of our differences.  And a lot of that happens through writing–just like it did in these books.  Our writing uncovers our lives and lets others in.  It exposes our interests and our fears, our hopes and our dreams.

In response to my thinking about establishing a genius hour in the classroom in yesterday’s post, another friend commented about her experience seeing “wondering walls” in classrooms where students wrote down their questions–those things they are wondering about.  I’m already thinking about how a wondering wall might serve as an entry place for developing student-generated projects…and for encouraging students to use their classmates wonderings as springboards for their own.  Would that be like Postsecrets and The Book of Awesome — a place to connect and learn from each other?  A way to develop community and create collective interest as we pursue our individual wonderings?  What do you think?