Thursday, June 10, 2004
I haven't Blogged in a while. Been on break. Bought a house. Moved. And, now, back to school for summer session.
Last night, I went to Shaw Gardens with my ex-wife. The garden hosts live music every Wednesday during the summer months - free music, free admission to the Gardens - what's not to love. I was impressed strolling through the gardens. My mind was opened to a whole new world. A world of green thumbs, green fingers, green faces, and green legs. It's amazing the types and variety of plants in this world, and it's also amazing how the type and variety of plants effects the feel and ambiance of an area.
I come from Minnesota, northern Minnesota, and this area is typified by large stands of tall pine trees - White pine, Red pine, Jack pine. These pine trees litter all kinds of needles beneath them, and these needles, and the shade of these towering trees make it difficult for vegetation to grow, so, only a vertain type of straggly bush, if any at all, grows beneath stands of pine. This gives the area a certain feel, an airy feel.
In other places, poplar and birch trees dominate the landscape, and in these cases, all kinds of vegetation take root beneath these trees. The landscape is dense with greenery, but, again, it is a certain type of greenery that gives northern MN a certain look. The look is full, often, like a glass of milk filled to bursting.
Three years ago I moved from MN to south Texas. The landscape from San Antonio to McAllen, where I lived, is desolate. There are plenty of Mesquite trees, diminuative bushes, and some cactii, but not nearly enough to fill the landscape. The openness if filled, the wide cracks between trees, by a dusty pink sand, and a few lonely rocks. The landscape is harsh, and its beauty is rigorous, an aquired taste, and coming from the profuseness, almost pregnant quality of MN, it was a shock.
I learned to love the landscape. The openness of the landscape created an openness in the people, an acceptance, and the harshness of the climate that created such diminuative foliage coerced a sociability in its denizens, very unlike Minnesotans.
Hmmm, it's funny because MN has a very harsh climate as well, however antipodal it is to south Texas. Winter in MN creates much the same yawning baldness in the foliage as leaves fall, and the underbrush withers. It's open, but, I guess, because of the coldness, people don't open up like the landscape, but, rather, shut themselves in to brace for the intense and debilitating cold.
Now, I'm in the middle of America. It seems almost smaack-dab in the center of the country -- Belleville, Illinois, just outside of St. Louis, Missouri.
This place doesn't seem to have an identity for me yet, even though I've lived here for two years. Time passes, the seasons change, leaves color and fall, perrenials flower and bloom, but I just can't quite seem to get a handle on how it all relates to the people. Weird.
I think this place is truly the melting pot of the biological and social world. Now, on the surface, this seems like it would be a good thing, all kinds of diversity. But, in truth, what happens is nothing becomes distinct, and, thus, everything's faceless. Maybe the people are just closed, like the massive, jungle-like vines that creep up and cover entire trees, or the ivy that covers the brick exterior walls of my house.
Last night, I went to Shaw Gardens with my ex-wife. The garden hosts live music every Wednesday during the summer months - free music, free admission to the Gardens - what's not to love. I was impressed strolling through the gardens. My mind was opened to a whole new world. A world of green thumbs, green fingers, green faces, and green legs. It's amazing the types and variety of plants in this world, and it's also amazing how the type and variety of plants effects the feel and ambiance of an area.
I come from Minnesota, northern Minnesota, and this area is typified by large stands of tall pine trees - White pine, Red pine, Jack pine. These pine trees litter all kinds of needles beneath them, and these needles, and the shade of these towering trees make it difficult for vegetation to grow, so, only a vertain type of straggly bush, if any at all, grows beneath stands of pine. This gives the area a certain feel, an airy feel.
In other places, poplar and birch trees dominate the landscape, and in these cases, all kinds of vegetation take root beneath these trees. The landscape is dense with greenery, but, again, it is a certain type of greenery that gives northern MN a certain look. The look is full, often, like a glass of milk filled to bursting.
Three years ago I moved from MN to south Texas. The landscape from San Antonio to McAllen, where I lived, is desolate. There are plenty of Mesquite trees, diminuative bushes, and some cactii, but not nearly enough to fill the landscape. The openness if filled, the wide cracks between trees, by a dusty pink sand, and a few lonely rocks. The landscape is harsh, and its beauty is rigorous, an aquired taste, and coming from the profuseness, almost pregnant quality of MN, it was a shock.
I learned to love the landscape. The openness of the landscape created an openness in the people, an acceptance, and the harshness of the climate that created such diminuative foliage coerced a sociability in its denizens, very unlike Minnesotans.
Hmmm, it's funny because MN has a very harsh climate as well, however antipodal it is to south Texas. Winter in MN creates much the same yawning baldness in the foliage as leaves fall, and the underbrush withers. It's open, but, I guess, because of the coldness, people don't open up like the landscape, but, rather, shut themselves in to brace for the intense and debilitating cold.
Now, I'm in the middle of America. It seems almost smaack-dab in the center of the country -- Belleville, Illinois, just outside of St. Louis, Missouri.
This place doesn't seem to have an identity for me yet, even though I've lived here for two years. Time passes, the seasons change, leaves color and fall, perrenials flower and bloom, but I just can't quite seem to get a handle on how it all relates to the people. Weird.
I think this place is truly the melting pot of the biological and social world. Now, on the surface, this seems like it would be a good thing, all kinds of diversity. But, in truth, what happens is nothing becomes distinct, and, thus, everything's faceless. Maybe the people are just closed, like the massive, jungle-like vines that creep up and cover entire trees, or the ivy that covers the brick exterior walls of my house.
