Roughly every six hours

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment
At high tide, Eastport’s breakwater pier resembles harbors just about anywhere. The far side of the pier is, though, a deep water port capable of docking a giant cruise ship.

 

It is a working port, after all.

 

In just six hours, though, the change in the water level is breathtaking. Yes, this is the dock on the upper left in the top photo. The tide varies up to 24 feet twice a day. It’s part of Fundy Bay.

 

The dark band illustrates how far the tide has dropped. The U.S. Coast Guard station above it gives you a height comparison.

 

Some Native names regarding the Cascades mountains

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

Many of the Pacific Northwest’s most prominent features are known by the names of Europeans or their descendants, rather than their earlier Native designations. Since the tribes on one side of the Cascade mountains had a different language stock than those of the other side, the names could be quite different.

  1. Mount Washington: Tahoma or Tacoma
  2. Mount Adams: Patoh or Klickitat
  3. Mount Hood: Wy’east
  4. Mount St. Helens: Loowit or Louwala Clough
  5. Mount Baker: Kulshan
  6. Mount Jefferson: Seekseekqua or Kuassal Teminbi
  7. Mount Shasta: Ako-Yet or Yeh te che na or Et ti ja na
  8. The Cascade Range: Yamakiasham Yaina
  9. Columbia River: Wimhal or Wimal, Nch’I-Wana or Nichi-Wanna, Swah’netk’qhu
  10. Bridge of the Gods: Tanmanhawis

~*~

There’s some rich mythology involving these names and their personalized characteristics. For instance, the brothers Patoh/Klickitat and Wy’east, after traveling down the Columbia River from the far north to resettle, entered into some heated rivalry for the fair maiden Loowit/Louwala Clough. Their volcanic eruptions of jealousy and earth quaking even resulted in the collapse of the Bridge of the Gods across the river, producing a series of rapids.

There’s plenty more, if you chose to investigate. Any to share from where you live?  

 

What cans’t thou say, in the midst of a popular concerto for the umpteenth time

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

The probing question by seminal Quaker George Fox, in a setting totally foreign to his comprehension, leads to the mystery of what makes something constantly new after any so many encounters.

Say a route you retrace daily. What do you discover for the first time today?

A spouse or a child, even more so.

And yes, a passage of Scripture or music.

Or whatever else is on your plate.

Father and son, mostly

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

while strolling crushed-shell pathways and boardwalks in an indigenous archive of Florida, the elder child of the eldest child from Ohio returns to an aviary with its two injured bald eagles and several owls and large hawks before all this hovering, the anticipation, the tentative rediscovery of some way of pleasing each other, the way sons do, step by step, in feathered conversation with an occasional flight, mostly

Some remarkable teachers I’ve had

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 2 Comments

No, the philosophy prof who wore the same suit to every class the first semester and another one for the second – he doesn’t count. These are ones who really shaped my thinking.

  1. Ethel McLennan, high school English teacher. She instilled a love of grammar I’ve relied on religiously the rest of my life.
  2. Vincent Ostrom, political science professor. He was keen on nurturing independent scholars who could critically assess a proposition and articulate their own position.
  3. Lavern Berry, high school student teaching summer workshops at the Dayton Museum of Natural History. He was a star who then vanished from sight. Still, his two-week chemistry course got me through a semester in college, and his advice about learning in general was something a kid like me needed.
  4. Professora Hughes, high school Spanish. The best.
  5. Jane Meyer, high school visual art. Much of what I learned in four years with her got applied throughout my career as a journalist when I designed pages and cropped photos.
  6. Harold Weiner, middle school visual art. Opened my eyes to modernism.
  7. Helen Rayner, third grade. I’m still fond of jack-in-the-pulpits.
  8. Miss Gillespie, sixth-grade English. She broke our hearts when she moved to a high school across town and again a bit later when we heard of her engagement. Did I mention she was beautiful and fresh out of college?
  9. Swami Lakshmy, Poconos ashram.
  10. Dick Allen, college creative writing.

~*~

Any great teachers in your past?