Soup!

Cancer Horoscope for week of October 8, 2009

Soup is your metaphor for the week, Cancerian. Symbolically speaking, it's the key to your personal power and a model for the approach you should take in everything you do. On the most basic level, you might want to eat some soup every day. That will make potent suggestions to your subconscious mind about how to mix lots of ingredients together so that their value and beauty as a totality are more than the sum of their parts. Not just in the kitchen, but in every area of your life, blend many little miscellaneous things into one big interesting thing.

Here She Is....a.k.a. Chlorine

From Son to Mother

I was in studio this morning. My cell phone called out to me. I answered and it was Ev. He was at his friend's father's funeral. The father had a stroke as he was sitting in church Sunday morning. Ev was crying, pleading with me not to die. Please don't die. I cried. I told him I would not die. I was sorry I could not be there to hold him. I was proud of him that he was there for his friend, but to remember to be there in three months, in six months when his friend really needed someone to talk to, to understand. We cried together. Then he pulled himself together and told me he just needed to hear my voice, to tell me how much he loved me.
Being a mom will never go away. It will always involve being there for your child. This is the first time I privately say, "Thank god for cell phones."

I Love You

Ev just called. One of his roommates got word this evening that his father had died unexpectedly. Ev was pretty shaken and wanted to call home to tell us that he loved us.

Tonight I am feeling that I raised my son right. It was good to hear his voice, talk to him about his friend, and hear those three little words....

LA 301 Studio Field Trip to Denver

Gates Rubber Company design site





Public art downtown by the Cultural Complex

Cancer Horoscope for week of September 24, 2009

As I gaze out the window of my home office, I see a vast wetland crossed by a creek that originates in the bay. At high tide, the creek is as wide as a river. At low tide, it's as narrow as a village street. Sometimes it flows north vigorously, while at other times it surges south with equal force. Now and then it's perfectly still. Its hues are a constantly mutating blend of grey, green, blue, and brown, and at sundown and sunrise they're joined by tinges of pink, purple, and orange. As a Cancerian, I find this intimate spectacle to be both comforting and invigorating. It's a reflection of my own ever-shifting moods, a reminder that I'm a watery creature whose fluidic changeability is natural and healthy. What I wish for you, my fellow Crab, is that in the coming week you will also surround yourself with prompts that help you to be at peace with who you really are.

A Morning in The Creek Bed

A beautiful stand of White Poplar...



Moss growing on a fallen log...


Patterns in the moist channel bottom...


The wall...
Fungi growing from a dead limb

In the Blink of An Eye

Happy 21st Birthday, Bink!

Our watershed assessment class recently visited Moore Memorial Park, north of campus, to study a pond on the property. I don't think I had ever paid much attention to the architecture of this shelter, but it took my breath away when I crested the hill from the parking lot and this behemoth structure appeared. My soils prof from Lakeside Lab taught me that we see what we know and the beauty of the barn has been on my radar since this summer.

The land for the park was bequeathed to the city from the Moore family estate. The property was originally a dairy farm which furnished milk for the family's downtown production facility back in the 40's. Down the hill to the southwest is a restored farm building with an adjoining silo. Along the lower edge of the property, next to Squaw Creek, is prairie, then woodland. My favorite design feature, other than the architecture that respects the history of this site, is a thick braid of Eastern White Pine that follows the slope of the land running down to the river. Even when the park is populated by picnickers, runners, joggers, or children playing on the play structure, one can escape into the quietude of this bosque of pine and disappear from the the rush and tumble of the world.