This gallery contains 11 photos.
“The Noticers of the world are rare and beautiful gifts. … Pausing to delight in the simple joys of everyday life is the only way to truly live.” — Rachel Macy Stafford, The Hands Free Mama * ~ * ~ … Continue reading
“When I moved here to East Texas over three years ago, I was a little homesick. I grew up in California and also worked and lived in Chile most of my life, and I never lived far from the ocean. Last year when I was in West Texas, I met an elderly woman who had grown up on a ranch west of Eldorado. She said that whenever she leaves Texas, she too feels homesick — not for the ocean but for the sky. I asked her why. She said that growing up on a ranch, especially at night, you have the sky from one horizon to the other horizon, and anywhere she goes, she feels penned in by city lights, fences and city buildings.
“The sky is really a part of the history of Texas. It is in our flag. It is in our music. It is really in the soul of Texas. And I am proud to be here at Texas A&M, helping to bring the sky back to this part of Texas.”
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On December 4, 2009, Texas A&M University astronomer Nicholas B. Suntzeff put the icing on the celebratory cake with this absolutely perfect big-picture analogy, an excerpt of his remarks presented as part of the official dedication of the George P. Mitchell ’40 Physics Building and the George P. and Cynthia Woods Mitchell Institute for Fundamental Physics and Astronomy.
Nearly five years later, I think his grandiose words are just as fitting in capturing the magnificence of another stately project, Between Heaven and Texas, executed by another master of observation, Wyman Meinzer, the Official State Photographer of Texas whose life’s work involves appreciating and accentuating the Lone Star State’s beauty and sharing it with the world. If you haven’t already had the pleasure, meet Wyman and his most recent, resplendent take on Texas, our Texas.
Wyman Meinzer – Between Heaven And Texas from Wyman Meinzer on Vimeo.
Wise words from author William C. Martin from his bestselling book, The Parent’s Tao Te Ching: Ancient Advice for Modern Parents. And not just for children and their parents, either.
To me, he’s describing science in a nutshell here. Uncannily like the opening sentence in the About section of this blog. Small world/wonder.
Oh, and did I mention that before he became a writer, Martin got his bachelor’s in engineering from the University of California at Berkeley?
Let’s be curious out there, folks. And encourage others, regardless of age, to do the same.
“Do you have agendas for your children that are more important than the children themselves? Lost in the shuffle of uniforms, practices, games, recitals, and performances can be the creative and joyful soul of your child. Watch and listen carefully. Do they have time to daydream? From their dreams will emerge the practices and activities that will make self-discipline as natural as breathing.”
Texas A&M Center for Mathematics and Science Education (CSME) researcher Dr. Craig Wilson made international headlines once again last week with his dire predictions concerning this year’s Monarch butterfly numbers, which are at an all-time low across the Brazos Valley and nationwide.
Ever the idealist, Craig appeals below to the altruistic nature lover in all of us with a personal pitch that harkens back to another resilient Lone Star State crusader, Lady Bird Johnson, whom we have to thank for one of Texas’ proudest, most beautiful and time-honored rites of spring — Texas wildflowers.
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In the fall of 2013, the number of adult Monarchs migrating through College Station that were netted and tagged was one-fifth of the number in 2012, coinciding with the data gathered nationwide showing that numbers were way down. This has been confirmed at the overwintering sites in the state of Michoacan, Mexico, where numbers were at historic lows. The combined areas sheltering Monarchs totalled only 1.65 acres, compared to a high of 45 acres in 1996. We now await the arrival of the first adults of the spring migration north, suspecting that they will be fewer in number. Last year, the first recorded sighting in College Station was on March 19 in the USDA People’s Garden on Holleman Drive that is open to the public.
Monarch Butterflies have reigned supreme amongst insects with a long distance migration that is the marvel of scientists, an increasingly aware population of civilian scientists and the public in general. But their reign is under the severest of threats since records have been kept, with numbers plunging so low that they may have reached a point where recovery may be impossible, in spite of the reproductive resilience of insect species that lay enormous numbers of eggs.
Who or what is to blame? There are a number of culprits. As the adults migrate south, they have to consume large quantities of nectar from wildflowers that are fewer in number because of use of herbicide in large-scale crop farming, especially in the Midwest, the biggest threat. In addition, more land has been brought into cultivation that formerly would have supported wildflowers and other wildlife. Then there is the severe drought and wildfires. Each of these events — individually and in combination — depletes available flowers and their nectar, which the Monarchs drink and then convert into lipids to help the butterflies survive overwintering.
What can be done nationwide? Large-scale farming is not going away, so a practice of leaving some crop acreage free of pesticides (note that this term is inclusive of herbicides and insecticides) needs to be increased. Perhaps interstate wildflower corridors could be established that would extend Lady Bird Johnson’s vision for the verges of Texas nationwide. Likewise, mowing of these same verges should be left until after the wildflowers have bloomed and seeded. This would also help the establishment of milkweed plants that are the sole source of food for Monarch larvae (caterpillars) during the migration north.
What can be done locally? Citizens can plant milkweed and other butterfly attractant plants in their gardens — simple actions viewed by some as futile, but every little bit helps, and it raises awareness. Since last spring, the Cynthia Woods Mitchell Garden (the Texas A&M campus’ first rooftop garden located at the George P. Mitchell ’40 Physics Building and open to the public) has been planted with more than 400 milkweeds, and four Bryan elementary schools also have established Monarch butterfly gardens. Sadly, the harsh winter means that the milkweeds have yet to start growing, so there may not be enough foliage to feed any Monarch caterpillars that do emerge from eggs.
The situation is dire.
THIS JUST IN: There’s an excellent front-page feature story on the subject by John Rangel in today’s Battalion.
“We fail in even the simplest of all scientific observations — nobody looks up anymore.” – Neil deGrasse Tyson
I came across this incredible time-lapse video by Randy Halverson while doing research for a story. Mesmerizing doesn’t quite do it justice. In fact, I’m not sure I have the words that would. Sit back and enjoy, preferably while watching in full-screen mode. You’ll thank me later.
The vimeo link includes some great background information from Mr. Halverson as well as appropriate credits.
Beyond that, um, wow. I’ll say it again, backwards. Wow. Totally blown away.
Dear Student,
You almost walked out on a Team Exercise today because you weren’t prepared, and you didn’t want to freeload. I admire that, but I asked you to stay and to learn, because the point of the Team Exercise isn’t the grade; it’s to help the members of the team to better understand the lesson.
At some point we will all walk in unprepared, and have to ask our team to help us out. That’s why some of the hard stuff is Team Stuff, rather than individual. Because I think that having you work together will cause more learning than if I just preach it at you.
I still felt terrible because you did today. And I questioned myself and what I was doing.
I talked to you for while late this afternoon, and there are other things going on in your life. This class isn’t easy for you, and logistics lately have been difficult. I get the feeling there are other things too. You apologized to me, but no apology is necessary. This is my job. I am here to try to help you learn. I know that other things get in the way. I know how they get in the way. I’ve lived that. I just wish you knew it, too. You are worthy of being here. Worthy of my effort. Worthy of the help from your team. Worthy of being taken seriously. Worthy of help. Maybe worthy of better than I am capable of giving you.
I know that you are the type of person who wants to be the one to help others. If another came to you unprepared, or unable to get something, or struggling, you’d be proud to be the person to help them out. You’d treat all their problems with loving kindness. That loving kindness that you’d so easily give to someone else is the loving kindness I want you to give yourself right now.
Just hang in there. Just keep trying. And seeing the high level of frustration and pain I saw in your face today, just in case, I want to say: If there comes a point where you realize or decide that this is not for you, I want you to know that is okay, too. You are still worthy and worthwhile. Sometimes it feels like we are deep in a dark tunnel with no way to climb out. And I can’t even tell you how to get out, except that you have to just keep at it.
I didn’t have the exact right words to say to you. I can only hope that the ones I had were enough to plant this idea, for it to grow and blossom later. You are enough. Just as you are. Deserving of respect and love and help. If you can’t trust yourself to judge that, I hope you can trust me.
Sincerely,
Dr. Linhart
(Credit: Alex Eastman)
Judging from a quick scan of the morning headlines and my Facebook, Twitter and Google+ news feeds, it’s a pretty universal fact that last night’s Super Bowl was a wee bit disappointing. While it’s true the Denver Broncos’ high-octane, option-loaded offense didn’t quite measure up to Seattle’s stifling Legion of Boom nor the pregame billing of an epic battle between league-leading No. 1s on opposite sides of the ball, I was confident from the kickoff, given that we had Aggies on both squads and therefore would emerge victorious. (Yay, 12th Man — the real one!)
But leave it to self-described math geeks to liven up an otherwise lame game with a little game within the game, described here in excerpts from Texas A&M Mathematics’ Amy Austin’s related post last night on Facebook:
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AUSTIN: So me and my geeky friend just calculated how fast that Seahawk player was running when he just scored that most recent touchdown.
14.3 mph.
AUSTIN (admitting a little further into the comments that she was the instigator, if not the geek🙂 Well, it was me that wondered aloud how fast he was running. So the friend I was talking on the phone with is the one that took out her calculator. She’s the geek. Not me. 😉
ANOTHER FRIEND (drawn in:) What was your formula…..no, forget I asked!
AUSTIN: Good old distance equals rate times time. And of course we had to convert from yards to miles and seconds to hours.
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Just goes to show that math and science not only are fun but also all around us, if we so choose to recognize and embrace what clearly can be a challenge just as exciting as sports. Possibly even more so on otherwise disappointing nights such as these.
#winning
Yep, now that I actually look, there are the obvious plus, minus and equals signs right there in the laces. What else do you see? (Credit: Torsten Bolten, Wikimedia Commons)
P.S. For those interested in a little 12th Man history, check out this extensive treatise on the subject by the outstandingly enterprising and clever folks at Good Bull Hunting.
Another guest entry from Texas A&M Center for Mathematics and Science Education (CMSE) researcher Dr. Craig Wilson about the importance of seizing not only our days but as many fleeting moments as possible — rather appropriate as we close in on closing out another trip around our Sun:
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Life is ephemeral…
Just what does that mean? I still retain a dictionary, but nowadays most people turn or click to Wikipedia, which defines ephemeral things (from the Greek word εφήμερος or ephemeros, literally “lasting only one day”) as transitory and existing only briefly. Typically the term is used to describe objects found in nature, although it can describe a wide range of things.
So, it was refreshing and thought-provoking to hear this definition offered by a Native American tribal elder when I recently attended the “closing circle” at the American Indian Science and Engineering Society (AISES) National Conference in Denver, Colorado. Dried sage leaves were burning and smoking (smudging) and cleansing the gathering that, rather incongruously, had attendees seated in a circle of chairs arranged inside a hotel conference room rather than outdoors under an expansive blue sky with the snowcapped Rockies as a backdrop. Nevertheless, once “smudged,” the speaker was allowed to hold the sacred eagle feathers and thus the floor, whereupon the elder said that, “The Plains Indians consider life to be like the fresh breath of a buffalo on a cold morning.” No book nor the Internet could have put it better, and so I immediately became a fan of oral history and the power of a good story — in my case spoken by preference.
A totem pole carved by an itinerant woodcarver Craig Wilson befriended from Washington State nearly 20 years ago graces his USDA/ARS office. Wilson says he treasures the man’s generous gift, given that members of this particular artisan’s clan of 7th- and 8th-generation First Nations carvers have work in the collections of the Smithsonian and the Royal BC Museum in Victoria, British Columbia.
I have taken to using the phrase “we only pass this way once” (with apologies to any Buddhists and Hindus in my audience) to try to impress on imressionable young minds that they should not be spectators in life but active participants who should try to squeeze out every last drop of juice or aqua viva that is held therein. They should participate. That is, of course, easy for me to say, as I have the luxury in my job of time for thought, while most folks have their noses to the grindstone or, nowadays, to an Ipad/device screen, their thumbs flashing across a miniature keyboard as if their life depended upon reacting or being proactive by text rather than active. There is no thought of taking time out to smell the roses. Why look at or smell an actual rose when you can click on a link and learn that there are Banksianae — white and yellow roses from China — in fact roses from most every continent, of every color, and that they all trace their roots back to slightly more than 100 species? Smell one? What would be the purpose of that?
With that thought in present day, I took myself out of the Howard Johnson — formerly a parochial house for priests and monks — and walked a few hundred yards to the town square in Mayaguez, Puerto Rico where I am currently working. I was there the day before and was immediately struck by the fact that something was missing, different, perhaps untoward. I immediately realized that the fountains had been silenced, the gloriously sparkling pool surrounding the imposing bronze statue in the center of the square emptied and stilled. A magical exercise had been lost to me, given that I have a habit when seated by moving water to focus my eyes on one drop and then to follow its every movement upward and down until it is lost to me, at which point I pick up another water molecule’s path and so on. It is mesmeric. You should try it.
Christopher Columbus statue and fountain in the town plaza in Mayaguez, Puerto Rico.
So instead, I took in my surroundings, where a diminutive, suntanned older lady was sweeping leaves off the marbled square with a passion and effort that was both impressive and disturbing in that she was like an automaton of Autumn only employed when the leaves fall and desperate to have the square leaf-free as if it were a leaf-free zone. That took my eyes skywards to see how much work remained, gauged by the remaining foliage, but then I spotted a humming bird flitting from leaf to leaf, breakfasting on insects to bring up its protein count while burning off the calories from nectar collected elsewhere. Native Americans explain that our Earth is covered by a dark blanket into which the humming bird had pierced holes that are the stars. That sounds good to me and to hell with The Big Bang Theory although it does make me laugh!
My thoughts have drifted as usual, this time like smudging smoke, but I leave you with this analogy from the same tribal elder who said, “The Woodland Indians consider life to be like the flash of a firefly in the darkened forest.”
Beautiful but ephemeral…
From time to time, Texas A&M Center for Mathematics and Science Education (CMSE) researcher Dr. Craig Wilson emails us about his adventures, experiences and related insights gleaned as both a scientist and a keen observer of life. Anyone who has had the pleasure of meeting (much less working) with Craig will attest to the fact that to know him is to learn from him — a delightful process definitely worth sharing. Given such, we’re pleased and honored that he has agreed to be added to the blog, Here’s hoping you enjoy his musings as much as we do!
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Most people look but do not actually see. I stress powers of observation when working with teachers and students, explaining that observation in science means using all of their five senses and then asking questions. We need to take full advantage of the gifts we are given at birth that enable us to emerge from the womb as scientists but with an inherent ability to be artistic if we choose to develop those talents. Neither is mutually exclusive, although our education system tends to encourage a divide between left and right brain, science and art, academic and non-academic, success and failure.
A downed 100-foot yellow pine tree on Craig Wilson’s East Texas property, complete with a new pine seedling emerging from a woodpecker hole in the foreground.
For example, if you make the effort to observe it, a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, would prick your finger when you touch it, would look glorious because of its vibrant colors, would taste as delicate as its petals you may eat and would sound as quiet as a whisper as it sways in a gentle breeze, if you had the auditory powers of the greater wax moth. This moth is capable of sensing sound frequencies of up to 300 kHz – the highest recorded frequency sensitivity of any animal in the natural world.
Humans are only capable of hearing sounds of 20 kHz maximum, dropping to around 12-to-15 kHz as we age. But, do we actually listen? I have lain down in the prairie grasses of The Badlands in South Dakota to hear the wind passing through and over them. I have been fortunate to sit on beaches of the Indian, Atlantic and Pacific Oceans and a few days ago, the Caribbean, to hear waves crash or roll gently on shore, each with a distinctive sound.
We can all touch people by our actions, but when we touch or feel, we cannot match catfish that are probably the most finely tuned creatures on Earth, as their smooth skin gives them a heightened sense of touch, and they are rumored to be able to detect earthquakes days in advance. When I have actually felt the most is when I was privileged to hold each of our children as soon as they were born in Serowe, Botswana, for each touched my heart in return.
Craig Wilson, during his descent through the cloud forest at the base of Mt. Kilimanjaro that inspired the following Haiku:
Why Climb Trees?
Why? To touch the sky!
Why? For all the world to see…
One must climb a tree!
Bloodhounds have the keenest sense of smell of any dogs, as their noses are 10-to-100 million times more sensitive than a human’s. That said, it always intrigues me that when humans encounter certain smells, these odors can trigger a memory perhaps from our youth — for example, the inside of a damp tent that transports me back in time to a hillside in Wales where sheep had invaded our tents while we were away climbing Idwal Slabs. Can a dog do that?
For eyesight, I pick the dragonfly, possibly the most formidable aerial hunter among insects whose eyes are so big that they cover almost the entire head and provide a full 360-degree field of vision. These eyes are made up of 30,000 visual units called ommatidia, each one containing a lens and a series of light sensitive cells. Their eyesight is superb, whereas humans look but rarely see what may be obvious just a few feet in front of them. For example, I can walk down a street in Mayaguez, Puerto Rico and see glorious concrete buildings from the early 1900s with ornate friezes three stories up with ferns growing from cracks but never, ever glance in a shop window to see merchandise.
The average person has about 10,000 taste buds. That number may seem like a lot, but it pales in comparison to, yet again, the catfish that has taste buds not only in its mouth but all over its body, numbering more than 100,000, with some large catfish having as many as 175,000. While in Mayaguez, I tasted pasteles (pork dumplings) for the first time, but I prefer the taste of freedom that my job allows, enabling me to interact with incredible people from friends to research scientists to students with special needs.
Finally, a question for you! Does the seldom-used common sense (7th Sense) negate the existence of extra sensory perception (ESP) or the 6th Sense? I wonder?
If you have a few spare moments, this video appealed to me.
Texas A&M Science 