The Shot: Spiderweb

As previous posts have hinted, I've always been a water girl - rivers & oceans have always had a pull over me.  My first trip to Colorado was mind-blowing, as just about anything over 20' tall was (and to a degree, still is) a mountain to me.  


Six years after moving to North Carolina, I had the opportunity to go to Asheville for my day job.  Driving west along I-40, the undulating hills of the Piedmont eventually lead into the Appalachians; when you hit exit 94, the ridges spill out endlessly towards the horizon and it still takes my breath away every time.


The day of my return to the Triangle, I had a few hours to spare in the morning.  The Blue Ridge Parkway was but a handful of blocks from my hotel, so I stopped by the Visitor's Center and took a run through the trail loop.  The views from here were nowhere near as spectacular as I would later discover elsewhere along the Parkway, but I found myself more captivated by the flora rather than the surrounding landscapes.



It was early fall and the air was beginning to become more crisp.  The broadleaf plants of the lower elevations were fewer in population, giving way to smaller flowers and evergreens.


I walked along the path, stumbling upon patches of mountain daisies, oak vines winding their way along the edge of the trail, and a squirrel that startled me just as much as I startled him.

About two-thirds of the way down the trail, I by chance looked to my left to find a large, yet delicate spiderweb glistening in the light filtering through the trees.  Its architect had wandered elsewhere, leaving behind her handiwork.  

Despite the surrounding peaks and valleys, on that morning, it was this that held my attention:

The Sites: North Carolina Coast

Until I moved to North Carolina, I'd always lived on or near water - it was part of the landscape.  While my proximity to water has disappeared in my daily life, I've had the opportunity to spend time along the North Carolina coast and explore some of the towns along the Outer and Inner Banks.

Jutting out into the Atlantic, the Outer Banks form the first line of defense for the various Sounds that accept the waters of North Carolina's rivers and estuaries.  Along the Inner Banks, some of the first settlements in the nation dot the Albemarle Highway and Civil War Trails.

Topsail Island

Topsail Island is one of many seasonal getaways, with its beach houses for rent along the shoreline.  Situated northeast of Wilmington, its northern end nestles against Camp LeJeune.  Beach erosion - like in so many places along the barrier islands of the state - threatens to reclaim the houses with every wave.

Chowan River & Roanoke Sound, Edenton

Edenton and Elizabeth City sit along the Chowan and Pasquotank Rivers, which open out into the Roanoke and Albermarle Sounds.  The rivers here have the bluest water I have ever seen and their sleepy waterfronts attract historical tourists and locals alike.

Wright Brothers Memorial, Kitty Hawk

Kitty Hawk is home to the Wright Brothers Memorial, the site of the first powered flight on a windy December day.  Concrete markers stand in the landing places of the first four flights; the first three are relatively short and close together, while the fourth is far out in the field of the memorial.  Kitty Hawk sits just north of Kill Devil Hills and Nags Head.  To the south, NC 12 takes travelers down along a narrow strip of sand towards Cape Hatteras, where it turns west to follow the rest of the coast.


All along the coast, the waves crash incessantly into the beach.  The sound fades into the background, a steady stream of white noise that just...is.  The rhythm of the waves seems to lull the year-round residents and tourists alike into a state of relaxation.  In the summer or in the fall, the coast beckons with its history, its seafood, its recreation, and its natural beauty.

The Equipment: SLR vs. Point-and-Shoot

After the great debate of digital vs. film, the next that inevitably follows is SLR vs. point-and-shoot.

When considering which style of camera to purchase, you need to consider your photo habits.  If the bulk of your pictures come from traveling, you want to think about both quick concealment and believable cover: sometimes you need to be able to excuse yourself for innocently wandering into that closed courtyard to get that shot, but most of the time, you want to blend in and avoid making yourself a target for muggers. 

Metro arrival; Madrid, Spain

Point-and-shoots can pack a lot of punch, if you do your research and are willing to shell out a little more money (but still hundreds less than even a basic SLR setup).  I chose my camera for its combination of power and portability - for me, being able to toss my camera in my satchel, purse or pocket is much more important for the type of photography that I do.  It also behooves me as a female traveler to avoid calling attention to myself.  Smaller point-and-shoots also allow for more spontaneous shots, as the only preparation required is typically just the installation of the battery.

On the other hand, SLR cameras give you much more control over your focal length, aperture, and shutter speed.  The interchangeable lens and flash packages also enhance your editorial options.  With these options comes a loss of portability and increased prep time, though, but for studio work and purposeful projects, they can capture impeccable images.  Telephoto lenses add an entirely new dimension to nature photography, especially because shooting a bumblebee is quite different from shooting just about any wild animal larger than a goose - when it comes to most wildlife, distance is not only your friend, it's your lifeline.

Of course, great pictures can be taken by basic - even disposable - cameras and even the most advanced camera can take horrible pictures in the hands of a user who hasn't learned to use it.  The key to great pictures inevitably comes down to learning the ins and outs of your equipment.  Weigh your options and whatever your choice, invest the time into learning to use the various features on your camera. 

The Sites: Saint Petersburg

If there is a place that started it all, it was Saint Petersburg.

Walking through Russia's Imperial capital is like spending time in a life-sized pop-up book.  The architecture is breath-taking; the history is palpable; the intersection of the past and the present is incredible.

I spent a summer here, the first and longest of several trips to this massive country.  My studies focused on late nineteenth-century Russian literature, particularly on the intellectuals and revolutionaries that inspired such works as Cherneshevsky's "What is to be Done?" and Dostoevsky's "Demons," along with the memoirs of Vera Figner and other members of the People's Will and other groups set upon overthrowing the tsars.  To walk along the same streets where these events - fictional and not - occurred was the culmination of my academic experience.  

Palace Square

The Russian sky is a thing of wonder: it constantly shifts from sun to clouds and back again, making layers and a packable raincoat utter necessities.  There are days when it is stark blue, off-set against the monuments and pastel buildings; there are days when the clouds look as though they are painted into the background.

SS Peter & Paul Fortress; 2am

Traveling here in the summer means a chance to experience the White Nights.  Due to its geography and latitude, the sun doesn't entirely set here in the weeks surrounding the summer solstice, casting an etheral glow over the city and an equally eery shade over its residents (Dostoevsky plays upon this in his short story of the same name). 

Church on Spilt Blood

Amongst all the beauties of this place, perhaps the churches are the most striking.  While the Communist regime worked diligently to purge as much religion as possible from the public eye - even going so far as to convert some churches into museums of atheism - these monuments to faith still dot the city landscape in their intricately crafted glory.  The Church on Spilt Blood perches precariously on the banks of the Griboedov Canal, upon the site of the assasination of Alexander II in 1881.  It is an explosion of color and mosaic, inside and out.  Its designs against the shifting Petersburg sky captures the eye and the lens.

Piskarovskoe Memorial Cemetary

While the Imperial history is hard to escape, modern events have left their scars as well.  The 900-day Siege of Leningrad during WWII remains in the forefront of residents' minds, making May 9's Victory Day celebratations more somber than their Moscow counterparts. Piskarovskoe Cemetary houses the largest collection of unmarked graves from those who perished during the blockade.  Stars mark the mounds that hold the bodies of soldiers, while hammers & sickles mark those of civilians; civilians far outnumber the soldiers. 

Siege of Leningrad Memorial

City streets still bear the marks of bombing runs.  The Memorial on the south end of the city is a somber and stirring place.  The museum inside recounts the timeline of the siege and the immense toll taken on the city; a metronome beats endlessly, echoing Leningrad Radio's broadcasts to assure listeners within and beyond the battle lines that the heartbeat of the city beat on during this dark time. 




I have yet to return to Russia since making the shift to digital, but when I do, I imagine my fascination with this place will only deepen, trying to capture all the details of its past as it simultaneously careens towards the future.

The Sites: New York City - American Museum of Natural History

I was that child who always wanted to play school rather than anything else.  I was that child who always had her nose in a book, even at the dinner table.  I was that child who believed that the exhibits in the museums came to life at night. 

You can imagine how excited I was about the Night at the Museum movies.  You can imagine how even more excited I was to spend a day exploring the American Museum of Natural History.

Founded in 1869, the Museum has grown to encompass over 32 million specimens and artifacts, along with temporary exhibits that rotate throughout the year.  It is a place that returns you almost instantly to that state of wide-eyed wonderment and curiosity that so many of us lose when we leave childhood.

Moose diorama, AMNH

The Hall of Mammals and the other wildlife dioramas located throughout the halls are some of the finest you'll find, with their scales ranging from the two-story coral reef in the Hall of Ocean Life (also home to a life-sized replica of a blue whale) to the smaller habitats of more common creatures like skunks and coyotes.  

Quartz, AMNH

The Hall of Minerals boasts an extensive collection and display of what are literally the building blocks of our lives: elements, rocks, compounds, crystals, gems, all of the parts that make up the whole of our existence.  The obvious beauty of a rare gemstone is one thing, but the complex simplicity of a quart crystal is another thing entirely. 

Barosaurus, Theodore Roosevelt Rotunda, AMNH

However, I had really come here for one main reason: the Fossil Halls.  The AMNH boats the world's largest collection of vertebrate fossils, with rooms upon rooms of prehistoric creatures soaring and towering overhead.  
The Theodore Roosevelt Rotunda welcomes visitors with its towering Barosaurs, while the exhibition halls upstairs boast sauropod after theropod after mammoth, leaving you in complete awe of these creatures that once walked upon this same planet. 

The complex also houses a planetarium, a library, the requisite gift shops and cafes...all of those things that we have come to expect from our museums, if only because it has become more difficult for us to fathom spending time learning without commercializing it in some way. It was too much to take in for just one visit.  This will be a required stop on all subsequent trips to the city for me.

The Shot: Little Blue Heron

Oddly enough, the SC Aquarium provided two of my favorite aviary shots, while my adventures in aquatic life didn't prove to be so fruitful.  Lesson: Never assume that what you think you'll be shooting is what you'll come away with at the end of the day.

After spending time in the lobby with Liberty, I made may way through the galleries, learning about the Southeast Appalachian Watershed.  The Aquarium was arranged as a journey from the Upstate of South Carolina and its mountain streams down towards its coastal plain with its rivers and eddies.

Waterfowl in the aviary

Halfway through the exhibits is the aviary, which looks out over the Harbor.  Nearly three stories in height, the aviary is home to native coastal birds along with tanks hosting fish, crabs, and other crustaceans.  Herons, ducks, cranes, and songbirds flit about in the greenery, a few boldly venturing towards their visitors, but most remaining elusive in their perching. 

One of these elusive residents was a little blue heron.  I've been fortunate enough to see many great blue herons in the wild, but I'd never seen this smaller, darker cousin.  The deep color of its feathers contrasted with the bright grass in which it was hiding.  It stood mostly still, but every now and then took a moment to smooth its feathers, as if preparing for a close-up.

I steadied myself on the edge of the tank, perched on the ledge most likely meant to provide smaller and younger visitors with a better vantage point of the feathered residents of the exhibit.  Between my lack of a tripod and the fidgeting of my subject, I burned through a lot of shots that were never seen by anyone else.  Animals and children are two of the toughest subjects to capture, given their tendencies towards unpredictable movement, but this is where digital photography scores a major advantage over film.

As in many cases, patience is a virtue when waiting for the perfect shot - all that time eventually pays off:

Little Blue Heron; South Carolina Aquarium, Charleston, SC

The Collections: New Additions

New pieces have been added to Place, Architecture, and People.  Please use the links to the right to explore the collections.

The Series: Bees & Butterflies

Some of the best things in life are things we stumble into rather than explicitly seek.  For me, I count many things in this category, including my majors in college, but one of the more fruitful has become a favorite subject of mine: bees and butterflies.

As a child, I was petrified of bees - to this day, I am still wary of hornets - and adored chasing after butterflies in my grandmother's backyard.  As I've grown older, I continue to be fascinated by their movement, the sheer physics of their flight, and their drive and intent in moving methodically from flower to flower in pursuit of that next great hit of pollen. 

Their variety in color and size seems limitless, especially when combined with the vibrant colors of the flowers they frequent.  The delicacy of their movement across the petals and amongst the stamen of the blooms betrays something beyond pure instinct and approaching intelligence.

One of the most special moments I've had was while I was driving the Blue Ridge Parkway between Asheville and Marion in western North Carolina.  I pulled over at each overlook to take in the spectacular views, but at one of the stops, I was more captivated by the flock of monarchs that was gathering around a patch of yellow flowers.  There were at least twenty, perhaps more, of the butterflies, all flitting about from flower to flower, intent on their mission.  I had and would spend most of the afternoon gaping at the rolling peaks of the Appalachians, but for this time, I was mesmerized by these creatures.




The intersection of flowers and the creatures that pollinate them also offers an opportunity to capture nature at its most pure: the connection forged between species for mutual benefit and continuation of life. Their flight patterns seem almost a dance with the wind, an invisible partner as they carry on their mission in our gardens and across the fields.

The Tips: Patience for a Grasshopper

Good things come to those who wait.

Patience is a virtue.

These adages ring true in a variety of situations, especially when you find yourself with a camera in your hands.  Capturing wildlife is tough: critters fidget.  Even a seemingly simple shot of a flower can be difficult on a windy day.  

Be aware of your physical limitations, whether imposed by you or your environment.  That perfect angle for that perfect shot may lead you to scramble over the rocks of a riverbank to get into position, but more often than not, you'll find yourself trying to hold perfectly still, hoping your subject does the same.

Monarch; Tryon Palace, New Bern, NC

A few weeks ago, I found myself engaged in a dance with a monarch, willing it to come around that milkweed at just the right angle, to open its wings at just the right time.  What I wanted and what Nature allowed me to have were two different things; you have to make peace with that concept.

It can be frustrating.  It can even be painful when crouching in a flowerbed with a trick knee.  But in the end, like with all things we love, it's worth it.  

 

Grasshopper; Roanoke River, Weldon, NC

The Shot: Liberty

I've always had a fascination with aquariums.  For me, they are some of the greatest examples of making tourism educational. When I find myself in a coastal city, this is the second thing I look for (the first being public beach access, of course).  

Over the past few years, I've spent a fair amount of time in the Upstate of South Carolina, visiting friends and family.  However, 2008 provided a chance to travel to the opposite end of I-26 for two days in Charleston.  At the end of my too-brief trip, I spent a morning at the South Carolina Aquarium.  Situated on Charleston Harbor between the Port of Charleston and the departure point for tours of Fort Sumter, the Aquarium is home to over 6,000 plants and animals.  The exhibits are arranged to take you on a journey from the Upstate's mountain steams down to the rivers of the piedmont and finally into the coastal plain's eddies.  


The atrium of the Aquarium grants access to the exhibit halls and to the classroom facilities.  When I was there, the atrium was also home to a rescued bald eagle.  No longer able to fly, she had been rehabilitated and would now be part of the Aquarium's educational programs.  Each winter, bald eagles descend upon the Quad Cities, nesting along the Mississippi River and its locks and dams.  Because of this, I'd seen these eagles before, but never one that was merely feet away from me.

Standing there, I thought of Ben Franklin and his fabled advocacy for the wild turkey as a symbol for America.  The bald eagle is a formidable raptor.  Her talons and beak were still every bit the predator's tools that they were when she lived and hunted in the wild.  Her enclosure included a small waterfall and pool in which she splashed and played, as if she knew that she was somewhere that she would be taken care of and could finally relax in her surroundings.  This combination of the forceful and the beautiful seemed a living embodiment of the contradiction that is our country.  Founders, thank you.


The Aquarium sponsored a contest to name her; the winning entry was Liberty:

The Sites: Washington & New Bern

Eastern North Carolina has become a favorite destination of mine.  Here, the forests of the Piedmont give way to the coastal plain, while the rivers finally spread and flow lazily into the sounds.  Tobacco and cotton fields roll across the landscape.  The towns here are small, the opportunities somewhat limited - the shift away from an agricultural and industrial society has meant the closing of mills and the loss of jobs for many - but the history is long and varied, with people who are proud of their heritage and of their home.

Riverfront; Washington

Travel east of Raleigh for about two and a half hours and you'll find North Carolina's oldest city and the first city in the US to bear the name: Washington.  Situated where the Tar River becomes the Pamlico River, its waterfront is home to a small marina and park where locals stroll in the evening with their pets and their families. 

Riverfront; New Bern

Turning south on US 17, you'll drive along the coastal highway towards New Bern.  North Carolina's second oldest city, it is strategically placed at the confluence of the Trent and Neuse Rivers.  The riverfront has been preserved to provide access to the water, with parks, marinas, and a downtown that embraces its history and character through preservation and local businesses.  The natural beauty of its location merges seamlessly with the society that has sprung up along its banks.

Both of these cities remind me of Davenport in the way that their rivers are embedded into the landscape of the town, simply part of the daily rhythm of life.  Their waters are not a destination that requires planning to go to; they are not something walled off or kept separate from the civilization that exists because of the natural gifts afforded by their banks and eddies.  Instead, these places embrace and celebrate their locations through milestones such as New Bern's tricentennial this year, as well as through the accumulation of smaller moments in time.

Fisherman; Washington

The Shot: Morning Fog One and Two

Like many things, a crucial element to photography is sheer luck.


For all the studios and editing software, some of your best shots will be those you weren't even looking for, but rather just present themselves for you to take.  


Several years ago, I was visiting my brother in the Atlanta area.  It was that transitional time of year where the humidity of summer was still clinging to the air, but the chill of fall (as chilly as it gets in Atlanta, anyway) was just starting to creep in.  I was up early, sitting out on the patio.  The neighborhood was all but completely cloaked in fog.


At the time, I was still using film, so I framed, snapped, and hoped for the best:

Dallas, GA (film)

A year later, I was in Orlando, visiting the same brother, once again in the fall.  It was a particularly soupy morning.  The window looked out over a golf course, but that morning, it might as well have looked out over an empty field, as it was impossible to see anything beyond the shadowy outlines of the trees nearby:

Orlando, FL (digital)

 In both cases, the fog burned off rather quickly.  It's one of those natural forces that casts a new glow over familiar things, but requires that element of luck to catch just the right day when you happen to have not only your camera, but also the time to wander about to catch a few shots (for example, I've always wanted to capture the UNC campus in the fog, but the timing just hasn't worked out quite yet).  

These two shots also recall the digital vs. film discussion - but as I've said earlier, I think there's room for both.  

The Sites: Raleigh, Durham, and Chapel Hill

While much of the collections come from far-flung places, some more exotic than others, a good portion comes from close to home, some even from home itself.


Forming the Research Triangle, the landscapes of Raleigh, Durham, and Chapel Hill are dotted with a total of 16 colleges and universities - large and small, public and private, well-known and hidden gems.  The people that live here are a mix of native North Carolinians and transplants from elsewhere who came for work, for school, for other opportunities.  It is easy to see why we stay: the blend of cultures, the pace that is at times both fast and leisurely, the wealth of ways to spend your time indoors and out.

NC State Fair; Raleigh

Each fall, the North Carolina State Fair brings everyone together for everything there is to love (or not) about a fair: livestock, rides, and food concoctions that sound both wrong and irresistible.  It is people-watching in the purest form combined with a showcase of all things North Carolina, from garden shows to crafts to agriculture.

NC Botanical Garden; Chapel Hill

Tucked away off a busy highway in Chapel Hill is the North Carolina Botanical Garden.  Its paths are lined with the flora of the state, from the mountains to the coastal plain, gathered together in one place to bloom in a veritable symphony of greenery and color.  True to nature, the blooms change with the seasons, making this a natural place to return throughout the year.

Double rainbow; Durham

I spent several years living in what was once described as a "treehouse" - my building nestled up against a grove of pole pines and seemingly anemic oaks that were nothing like the majestic, sprawling trees I'd previously known.  The songbirds adopted my feeder as their local nursery and cafeteria, granting me the privilege of watching their chicks learn to fly and forage.  As wonderful as this was, the proximity of the trunks left me with only a small pocket of sky, compounding the claustrophobia I still feel in the eastern forests after having spent my entire life living in more open spaces.  A recent move freed me from the tyranny of the trees (the grove is a good ten to twenty yards out now) and gave me access to the sky again.  I am able to sit upon the deck, watching the storms roll through, thankful for both the third floor unit and the roof that protects me (and my camera) from most of the elements.  Of course, this also means I have a birds-eye view of the calmer side of nature as well, which never ceases to amaze me.

The Sites: Okefenokee Swamp

When you tell people you grew up in Florida, most people think of the beaches, the sand, and the ocean.  Truth be told, we never spent much time at the beach when I was younger - the Florida of my childhood is better characterized by the swamp.  Gators in the yard, sunning themselves on the banks of the neighborhood canals were commonplace; something about oppressive heat and humidity still feels like home.   I credit my status as a native Floridian for the fact that I am utterly incapable of resisting the lure of a swamp park.

Many of these are nothing more than cheesy tourist traps, where the handlers toss chicken to a bloated bull gator who knows that crowds of people equal food.  The snowbirds and spring-breakers "ooh" and "aah" over the giant reptile, then patter into the makeshift reptile house to look at a few snakes and lizards, one of them inevitably asking where they can find the gecko from the insurance commercials.  There's a time and a place for kitsch, but I'd rather spend time in those parks that work to preserve and conserve natural habitats, focusing the interactions with wildlife on educating the visitors about these creatures, their habits, and what we can do to protect them.

Southern pine forest, 2008; recovering from swamp fires of 2007

Straddling the Georgia-Florida border and covering over 400,000 acres, the Okefenokee Swamp is the largest blackwater swamp in North America; the Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge protects the habitat from encroaching development while still allowing visitors to explore its waterways.  The swamp of southern Georgia is a bit different from the Everglades: instead of a river of grass, it is shaded and sheltered by the pole pines and towering cypress trees.  

Cypress forest

Along the waterways and in the gator ponds, cypress knees break the surface and the insects flit about amongst the water lilies and ferns.  It is an almost primeval place, forgotten by geology, and frozen in time.  Fires still rage through every few years, especially during severe droughts as in 2007, pushing the forest through its natural cycles of destruction and renewal. 

Park entrance

Located just outside Waycross, Georgia, the Okefenokee Swamp Park provides access to the swamp through tours and educational facilities.  The gators wander and float amongst the canals, mingling with visitors.  
 

Okefenokee Railroad Tour

Like any true swamp park, there is the requisite cheesiness - exhibits on how native tribes and settlers used the resources to live amongst the cypress and the dragonflies, complete with a miniature train that will allow you to tour some of the park grounds in style.  The park almost has a sense of humor about itself; at least, it provides plenty of opportunities to find humor while you're there, as if by acknowledging the kitsch, it allows their message of conservation and cohabitation to reach a wider audience through educative presentations and tours with guides that are incredibly passionate about their work.

Butterfly with azaleas

The animals that inhabit the park are, for the most part, free to wander in and out from the swamp itself.  The butterflies flock to the camellias and azaleas.  The turtles float in the ponds and you do have to keep an eye out for the occasional water moccasin that may be slithering by on the ground or in the canals.

American Alligator

American Alligator

Most of the resident gators can be traced in lineage to one male, Oscar, who passed in 2007.  They laze about the water's edge, merely feet away from passersby, most of whom keep their distance, but some of whom you expect to utter the phrase "Hey, watch this!" at any moment.  Alligators are not particularly active creatures, making them great subjects to experiment with capturing wildlife shots through your zoom lens (always through your zoom lens!).  If they are in the water, the light reflected from the surface plays with the light reflecting off their skin, adding another dimension.

Of course, their presence also provides a chance to capture a little unintentional humor:

The Sites: Iowa City

Last summer, I returned to Iowa City for the first time since completing my undergraduate studies at the University of Iowa.  So much was still the same, but so much else had changed in that time.  The golden dome of the Old Capitol shone across the Pentacrest, finally free of the scaffolding that had hidden it during my final years on campus.  New wings and new buildings had sprung up, causing me to pause as I looked across the landscape at those new features that I didn't remember.
 

View of Iowa River, south from Hancher footbridge

In 2008, the Iowa River raged beyond 500 year flood levels, drowning much of the University's property, along with large swaths of Iowa City and Coralville.  While I was there, the river was back in its banks where I remembered it, but the ghosts of its destruction were all too present on the arts campus where I'd spent so much of my time.  It had been heartbreaking to watch the flood from afar; it was even more heartbreaking to see how much work was left to be done.  Even now, the city, the University, and the federal government continue to wrestle with questions of liability and relocation of facilities.  

Dehumidifiers, Voxman School of Music, 2009

The bulk of the collection of the Museum of Art is being housed in Davenport's Figge Art Museum, nearly an hour away; the School of Music has been holding classes wherever space is available, extending to local community centers, schools, and churches large enough to accommodate rehearsal and performance space.  Along with these pressing issues, the students, faculty, and staff are turning their eyes to the future.  New walkways are being built along the river that will serve as earthen levees above 100 year flood levels.  The College of Engineering's Iowa Institute of Hydraulic Research is applying its energies towards mitigating future disasters through understanding past floods.  

Nile Kinnick; Kinnick Stadium

Kinnick Stadium - hallowed ground for the Hawkeye Nation - had been renovated, with refurbished end zones, an artificial field, and a new pressbox.   It stands silently next to the University of Iowa Hospitals and Clinics, the energy of decades of fans still emanating from its empty bleachers.  Through the gates, I could catch only a few glimpses of the field where I had once marched, back when it was still real grass.  I paid my respects to Nile Kinnick, promising to return soon.

View west from Old Capitol steps

I ended my day by sitting on the portico of the Old Capitol looking out over the west side of campus, watching the sunset.  

Old Capitol at sunset

I tucked myself against the columns of the building, where I used to read and study. 


The swiftly changing light cast a glow over the limestone buildings of the Pentacrest.  As the sun finally faded over the horizon, I went in search of the Adler Building, the new home to the School of Journalism and Mass Communication.  

courtyard of Philip D. Adler Building

Recent alumni publications had featured the facility, namely the sculpture in its courtyard, and I wanted to see it for myself.  The courtyard glowed with the languages carved from the sculpture.


There isn't much I wouldn't do to be in Iowa City this weekend as my Hawkeyes take on Penn State for Homecoming.  Instead, I will be a part of that Hawkeye disapora, though my heart will be there, ready for the boom and praying for a chance to sing our victory polka.

Pentacrest at twilight

To assist with flood recovery efforts for the University of Iowa, please donate to the UI Flood Relief Fund.