Duck, Duck, Goose!

Babyland, Innocence, Old Welfare, and U of I Deeded Bodies

Checkout 'Babyland' section of Oakland Cemetery, Iowa City, IA.
This plot is located at the intersection of Ronalds and Reno Streets. And 'Innocence' -another infant section located in the very SE corner of the cemetery.

Old Welfare and U of I Deeded Bodies plots are located north of Cemetery Office.

Another Day...Another Bundle of 5 Cemeteries

For What Are You Grateful?

O Joyous Road Trip!!!

I finally got away yesterday to retrieve my son from the university for Thanksgiving holiday. I set out mid-morning for Cedar Rapids to visit a notable cemetery designed by H.W. S. Cleveland, an iconic landscape designer. My thesis readings have taken an interesting turn from cemetery preservation to the landscape design of 19th century cemeteries.

I am passionate about any and all cemeteries, but my focus has started to narrow to those of deliberate design by landscape architects here in the Midwest around the turn of the century. Horace Wallace Shaler Cleveland was best remembered for his design of the Minneapolis Park System, but Cleveland and his son Ralph also ventured into cemetery design. There are not many on record, but those that he created are magnificent. His influence is legendary.

So I headed out in a rainstorm yesterday morning, hoping to get to Cedar Rapids by noon. I allowed plenty of time to find the cemetery, explore, take fotos (239). I exited I-380 per my instructions from Google maps and after circling the block...twice!...to get my bearings, headed east on Mt. Vernon Road.

Oak Hill is a grand, old cemetery established in 1854. This beautiful, historic landscape is showing signs of distress. What a shame! The likelihood that any money will come its way for preservation and sprucing up is doubtful considering the extensive damage parts of the city sustained in the 2008 Floods. Once a Grande Dame of Cemeteries, Oak Hill is looking every bit of her 155 years!








Despite the rain and the cold temps, I enjoyed my explorations of the plantings, the buildings, mausoleums, gravestones and monuments. Cleveland was known for selecting cemetery sites with rolling topography. His keen eye contributed to his signature designs for the layout of cemetery roadways that accentuated the beautiful curves of this landscape.
I found my way to the superintendent's shed and was able to obtain a map of Oak Hill. It listed some fun facts about the cemetery, but much to my dismay, there was no mention of Horace C. or the mark he left on this historic landscape.

I headed back down the lane and out the gate, waving goodbye to a new, very, very old friend.

Back on the interstate, I planned the rest of my day. First, I headed the MINI out to Sisters' Garden, a neat-o antique farm way out on Highway 1, past Frytown, IA. It didn't take me long to find some old sap buckets just begging to hold boughs of Eastern white pine, along with juniper and sumac. With Christmas just around the corner, the front stoop is in need of a little attention. I also found a stack of brown transferware dishes -- el-cheapo! It was my lucky day. I was satisfied with my treasures, so I drove back to Iowa City.

I walked along the Iowa River and snapped some fotos of a beautiful lawn and limestone amphitheater. It consists of three terraces fashioned from eighteen-inch high blocks of limestone fronting lawn segments. Tops of the blocks measure a healthy twelve-inch depth, with lawn stretching back another twelve feet. Easy to remember...twelve and twelve. Later when I told Ev of the day's adventures, he said he often grabs a Jimmy Johns baguette and heads down to this same place to feed the ducks and read before his afternoon classes.

The amphitheater and its dimensions were nice to stash in the back of my mind, but more importantly, I wanted to measure a set of elegant, concrete steps that I happened upon a while back. The stairway lies adjacent to the amphitheater and mimics its layout and dimensions. A craftsperson/designer put some thought into the experience of traversing this stairway...an art not often found today. I measured a sixteen-inch tread...two bootlengths. Two steps up, five forward; two steps up, five forward; and again, two up, five forward. I walked the stairs both up and down, counting each step. Such ease of gait. Then I jogged them. Still a great rhythm. This was something I wanted to remember in my legs the next time I sat down at the drafting table to design an outdoor grade change. I've heard that muscle has memory. It's good to remember something that feels so right.
Then a short, steep flight of five steps to top out on the landing that leads to this beautiful bridge arcing across the waters of the Iowa River.








As I left the river, I spotted the Upper City Park. I headed in to snap some fotos...notice this unique oak tree and the picnic shelter with Gothic architecture. Nice.

It was getting dark and because Ev was working a later shift at one of the university's parking ramps, I decided to find a cinema and keep with my new found delight in watching movies. I circled the Mall, slipped into the Cinema-Plex with my box of Goobers, and settled in to watch the late afternoon showing of The Men Who Stare at Goats. Good movie....subtle humor, kind of kooky. I was one of 5 people in the theater. We all seemed to enjoy it.

A long day for sure, a lonely day as well. But a productive day. Ev finally called to tell me he was ready, so I swooped in, we loaded his dirty laundry, and headed home.

Keeping UP!

Another day. Another great movie. I could get used to this. ;)

A Phenomenal Movie

I just finished watching this great movie. A friend recommended it a while back, but I never have time these days. Tonight I just happened to find myself in Hollywood Videos with Tess, so I checked it out.

ISU is on Thanksgiving break for a whole week, so I figured I could take off the night and indulge. What a lovely movie.

Travolta is a favorite, but he was extra good in this film. I'm a sucker for a love story about a down home guy. Especially a guy who understands about his woman's chairs!

Cosmic Luck

Cancer Horoscope for week of November 19, 2009

Strictly speaking -- going purely by the astrological omens -- I conclude that you would generate amazing cosmic luck if you translated the Beatles' song "Norwegian Wood" into Punjabi, wore shoes made of 18th-century velvet, or tried out for a Turkish volleyball team. I doubt you'll get it together to pull off those exotic feats, however, so I'll also provide some second-best suggestions. You won't receive quite as much cosmic assistance from doing them, but you'll still benefit considerably. Here are the back-ups: Begin planning where and when you'll take a sacred vacation in 2010; meditate on who among your current allies is most likely to help you expand your world in the next 12 months; decide which of your four major goals is the least crucial to pursue; and do something dramatic to take yourself less seriously.

Trees

Last Friday morning, feeling a bit antsy after hearing that our beautiful weather was coming to a screeching halt, I left the drafting table and ventured out to the garden to plant some small trees I had kept in urns over the summer. Studio was not until 1 and I had a couple of hours to work the soil. I had been reading several articles for a graduate project about tree inventory for my urban hydrology assessment class. It's not too difficult to get excited about the subject matter. I have discovered something about myself since returning to graduate school to study landscape architecture. It goes deep to my core and that is my passion for trees.

They are majestic. They are elegant. Trees are the foundation of our existence. They filter our air, soil, and water. Trees regulate our local climate with their shade and evapotranspiration. They provide food and shelter for all living things. They hold down our soil to prevent erosion and sedimentation. The term for this provisioning is ecosystem services and trees do all this for free. We just have to stand back and let them grow.

Most of these services go unnoticed...they just happen in the background. However, cities are starting to figure out that trees are an asset when they are recognized for these services. Scientists have assigned a dollar value per tree to the pollutant removal from our air. The housing industry claims that trees growing on a homeowner's lot increase the value of that property about 15%. A tree pulling waste and cycling nutrients from our soil and water is worth a ton of money when measured against having to build a new treatment plant for this very purpose.

I haven't even touched on the quality of life or the health and well-being aspect of trees. Can you imagine your world without trees? What a loss this would be. Yet researchers with American Forests have found a 30% decline in urban trees over the last 15 years.

I am passionate about these big guys. My yard is full of trees, some over 60 years old, some planted last week. I have my favorites, but it is like choosing the favorite child. They all have such individual characteristics that endear.There are two species tho, that have captured my heart since this past summer. They both stand across the fence, but I can see them now out the window from the second story here at my drafting table. Two large American Planetrees, or Sycamores, Platanus occidentalis and three mature Eastern White Pines, Pinus strobus. Not a day goes by that I don't make a conscious effort to connect with these trees that are a part of my daily life.

Go plant a tree today. There is still time before the ground freezes. Find a volunteer sapling that is struggling to survive and move it to a place where you can watch it grow and change over the seasons of your life. Find your passion for these wonderful stalwarts of our planet and protect them as if your life depended on it.

The Social Life of Water

All water is part of other water.
Clouds talks to lake; mist
speaks quietly to creek.

Lake says something back to cloud,
and cloud listens.
No water is lonely water.

All water is a part of other water.
River rushes to reunite with ocean;
Tree drinks rain and sweats out dew;
Dew takes elevator into cloud;
cloud marries puddle;

puddle

has long conversation with lake about fiord;
Fog sneaks up and murmurs insinuations to swamp;
Swamp makes needs known to marshland;

Thunderstorm throws itself on estuary;
Waterspout laughs at joke of frog pond.
All water understands.

All water understands.
Reservoir gathers information
for database of watershed;
Brook translates lake to waterfall;
Tide wrinkles its green forehead and then breaks through.
All water understands.

But you, you stand on the shore
of blue Lake Kieve in the evening
and listen, grieving
as something stirs and turns within you.

Not knowing why you linger in the dark.
Not able even to guess
from what you are excluded.

- Tony Hoagland, The Sun, Sept. 2009