Who has seen the wind?

I was watching football the other night and, as always, my mind took to flights of fancy when the broadcast cut to the aerial shots of the stadium. Somehow it occurred to me: what if wind turbines were somehow designed into these massive, high structures? Seemed to me that would be a cool way to generate electricity, especially in a building that is not used all that often.

Today I happened upon aerotecture.com [here], an architecture and design firm that does exactly that. This is a photo of windturbines designed into the structure of a bridge. I like.

Soaring at False Cape, VA.

Nature as modern art.

Land beneath the ice in Greenland

At the advent of modern art---whether of the "modern," "contemporary" or "abstract" school---the general reaction often was less than warm.

While some saw the beauty in shapes and colors and designs that, to others, looked like "nothing," the larger zeitgeist still centered on art that was more "real" and "natural."

Turns out, however, that Nature itself sometimes provides the most amazing "modern" art ever!

I've talked previously about the beautiful batiks created by Mary Edna Fraser (The Beauty of the Earth)---all based on aerial photos of Earth's barrier islands.

Recently I saw this radar depiction of the land beneath the ice in Greenland. While amazing for its geological information, I also immediately thought, "What a beautiful wall hanging that print would make!"

I love the colors.


*** Photo from sciencedaily.com [here].

The best one hundred bucks ever spent.

It's not a hoop and a stick, but there's still plenty of old-fashioned game left in some kids today.

Now that we live more in the country (relatively speaking, considering we came from one of the capitals of the urban super-jungle), and have a long, flat drive-way, one of the favorite things I love to hear is: "Mom, I'm going outside to shoot some baskets."

A friend complained that after Thanksgiving Dinner, when the fam traditionally lounged around talking and whooping it up watching football, the youngsters instead sat staring at their laptops and text-messaging other kids who lived . . . next door.

Technology is great. But so is the feel of a basketball on a sunny day and the sound of the bounce on the driveway. Then the "boiiing" reverb sound as the ball hits the backboard.

Simple pleasures are still good.

*** Photo from amazon.com [here].

Christmas Eve at False Cape

photo by ViVi

Why I'm not always annoyed by public cell phone use.

There are many kinds of nutmeg in the world and that's why I'm not always annoyed at public cell phone use.

Sure, there are boors who treat you to all the gory details of their colonoscopy while riding the Metrorail with you. But there are also times when cell phones make life's little rituals a little more rich, and a little more sweet.

Take nutmeg, for instance. From time immemorial, husbands have "run up to the store" to pick up a few things for their wives, usually while said wife was busy in the kitchen, cooking and getting ready for a big dinner.

Husband goes to the store with instructions to buy "nutmeg" and he does, in fact, come home with nutmeg. However, more times than not, the nutmeg that Husband bought is not the nutmeg that Wife thought he would buy. So sometimes Husband comes home with two or three types of nutmeg, just to avoid the disappointed "Oh" sound the Wife makes when she opens the bag and it wasn't the nutmeg she expected.

When cell phones first started becoming widely used, I noticed that every man at the grocery store was standing in front of a shelf, talking to his wife. "Well, there are two kinds of French Roast here. Do you want the 'dark' or the 'regular'?"

"They don't have fresh marjoram. Do you want me to get dried? Oh, wait, there's also ground marjoram."

"Was it chocolate chip or chocolate chip with marshmallows that you wanted?"

Yesterday there was a man sharing the spice aisle with me and he was on the phone to his daughter. "Mom's cell phone is off. Ask her if she wants ground nutmeg, whole nutmeg, yellow nutmeg or what."

I don't know why, but I find it rather sweet to know husbands all over the place are still trying their hardest to read their wife's mind when it comes to ingredients for the family culinary celebrations.

Another sweet thing about cell phone usage is how often I will be in a crowd and hear people signing off, "I love you."

I used to stand in a mob waiting for a train every day and peppered throughout all the conversations was this: "Okay, love you!" "Love you, bye!" "Love you, too!" "I love you."

I still don't want to hear about that guy's colonoscopy, but if people have to talk on the phone in public, it's nice to hear there is a lot of love to go around.

*** Photos from Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew [here], arthrix.com [help], and moodfood.com [help].

Christmas Brussel Sprouts

For many years, decades really, the fam all marveled at how Kean would eat anything . . . except brussel sprouts.

Something about his mother, who was British, forcing them upon him in his youth as a "should" thing or part of his cultural heritage.

Whatever, the boy would not eat them and either would the man.

One day Finkie and I were at the grocer's and a stalk of sprouts caught his eye. "Is this how brussel sprouts grow?" he inquired. "Why, yes," I replied.

Then his face went into the think mode. "You know, Mom," he mused, "because Dad doesn't like brussel sprouts, the rest of us have never even tried them. Maybe we should try them."

I looked at the large, formidable stalk of miniature cabbages.

"Alright," I nodded. "Let's do it."

We got home and I fired up the computer. I googled "brussel sprouts for people who hate brussel sprouts." Sure enough a recipe came up that was called, "Brussel Sprouts for People Who Hate Brussel Sprouts." I promptly printed it out and, a few days later, took the plunge.

Now this is not the simplest or fastest recipe in the world. In fact, the first time I made it, I thought this is waaaaay overboard for a bunch of miniature cabbages. But let me tell you this: every single bit of effort and time was worth it! So worth it, we renamed the recipe "Christmas Brussel Sprouts" and determined to add them to our holiday menu every year.

They are truly yummy. The recipe says they can be made four hours ahead; I found them delicious the next day as well. In fact, the next day I caught Kean popping a few of the cold leftovers into his mouth like bonbons. Now that's an endorsement.

Here we go:

Christmas Brussel Sprouts

3 T butter
1/2 cup pine nuts
1 + 1/2 pound brussel sprouts, halved
1 cup chicken broth
2 shalots, minced
1 T chopped fresh marjoram
1/3 cup whipping cream

Melt 1 T butter in heavy, large skillet over medium heat. Add pine nuts, stir until golden (at least 3 minutes).

Transfer the nuts to a small bowl.

Melt 1 T butter in the same skillet over medium heat. Add sprouts; stir 1 minute. Add chicken broth; cover and simmer until sprouts are almost tender (about 7 minutes).

Uncover sprouts and simmer until broth evaporates (about 5 minutes).

Using a wooden spoon, push sprouts to side of skillet. Melt 1 T butter in center. Add shalots and saute until tender (about 2 minutes). Stir in marjaram, pine nuts, then the cream.

Simmer until sprouts are coated with cream, stirring frequently (about 4 minutes). Season with salt and pepper.

*** Photo Gary Winters hosted at pbase.com [here].

100% Juice.

While having a lovely breakfast with Auntie Dac the Friday following the Thanksgiving festivities, she served two juices which really picqued our interest---and our tastebuds: Blueberry juice and Pomegranate juice.

Auntie Dac also encouraged Finkie and Jipper to sample some juicy--to the point of being messy!---pomegranate seeds, which the boys promptly declared "delicious."

So a few days ago, while cruising down the juice aisle at my local grocer's, a Blueberry-Pomegranate juice blend caught my eye. As usual, this blend had a base of apple juice. But in addition to the Blueberry and Pomegranate juices, it included the juice of the Aronia berry.

I decided to investigate.

It turns out the Aronia berry is also called by the unlovely and non-label-friendly name of "chokeberry." As you might guess, the berry got that name because it is extremely tart and bitter, thus . . . hmm . . . surprising the person who was so bold as to pluck it from the bush and plop it straight into the mouth!

That said, Aronia berry can be made into tasty jellies and jams. And it certainly seemed to add a nice layer of flavor to our bottle of Blueberry-Pomegrante juice.

And I got to thinking: that's really how life is, isn't it? The tart and the bitter would be too strong to take standing alone. But, fortunately, those strong flavors blend with the many sweet things in life and, in the end, add a dimension that makes the entire experience somehow richer.

The Aronia berry looks somewhat like the Indian Hawthorne. It has showy white blossoms giving way to glossy deep violet berries. It does have a colonizing growth pattern, but nevertheless it can be used as a shrub or hedge. Since it can withstand a good dousing--it's common in wetlands--I think it might be a good choice for the raingardens we hope to plant in the spring.

More [here] and [here].

*** Photo from kindbook.com.

Just another beautiful sunset over the Chesapeake.

Read the adventures of the 2002-2003 American Oystercatcher Aerial Survey.

(Stephen Brown, photographer, and Shiloh Schulte, observer)

[here].

*** Photo from shorebirdworld.org.