Sunday, June 28, 2020

Animal Farms -- The Rest of the Story


Animal Farms – The Rest of the Story
Apologies to George
Part one of three
Things went pretty well after the farmer was expelled. All of the animals worked together. They made rules to ensure the old ways did not come back to the farm. I guess you know what happened then. The pigs decided that “All animals were equal but some animals were more equal than others.” They took up residence in the farmhouse, which was prohibited by the rules. They dominated the other animals and the farm became as bad as it was when the farmer was in charge – a precautionary tale.
But the story didn’t end there. The pigs began to argue among themselves. Some pigs banded together and formed a powerful group – The Great Outstanding Pigs. The GOP made the other pigs and all the other animals work long hours under intolerable conditions. They did not let any other animals have a say in the governance of the farm. They called it reform. The GOP bought up other farms. If the human farmers resisted, the pigs forced the other animals to invade the farm and take it over. The GOP became bigger and more powerful over the next few years.
Then, a different pig took over the GOP -- the Great Orange Pig. He had amassed farms all over the world and had written a book – The Art of the Squeal. He made all the pigs wear silly red hats with holes cut out for their little pointed ears. He gave all his little piglet offspring high positions in the management of all the farms. He associated himself and his administration with the worst swine all over the world.
Many farm animals tried to organize themselves to oppose the Great Orange Pig. They organized themselves under the leadership of the Old Donkey who had been around the farm forever. Even with his considerable age, he ran our front of the rest of the animals – but there were many other animals, at least 24, who wanted to lead to opposition to The Great Orange Pig themselves. They attacked the Old Donkey’s track record. They said that he made some young Jennies uncomfortable. They said that it was time to pass the reins to a new generation of donkeys. Even the Great Orange Pig made fun of the Old Donkey.
We do not know the rest of the story yet. Will the Great Orange Pig make the entire word a swill? Or -- will we all just get another kick in the Ass.
Stay tune
Part Two of three
The donkeys ran around in circles braying at one another. The jennies said that the jacks were making asses of themselves. The jacks argued about that the jennies were shrill. They all said that the Real Old Jack had lost a step or two.
Meanwhile, the Great Orange Pig tried to make a deal with an old bear on a farm far away to find out dirt on the Real Old Donkey. The donkeys who lived in the basement of the farmhouse said that this was very naughty and tried to get the Great Orange Pig thrown out. However, the pigs who lived upstairs said that it was fine for the Great Orange Pig to do any disgusting thing that he wanted.
Suddenly, some bats who lived on the other side of the world, infected pigs and donkeys and many other critters with foot and mouth disease. The Great Orange Pig told everyone that this was no big deal and they should just keep doing their farm work. The donkeys said that the Great Orange Pig was bat shit crazy. Meanwhile, the Real Old Donkey won the right to challenge the Great Orange Pig for who would run the farm. The scientific critters advised that all animals should stay home and wear boots to keep from spreading the foot and mouth disease. The Real Old Donkey followed their advice. The Great Orange Pig went barefoot and oinked all over to lots of other pigs.
The farm work did not get done because all the critters were getting sick. The farm was in terrible trouble.
But this is not the end of the story. The Great Orange Pig and the Real Old Donkey will fight it out in November to decide which one will run the farm.
Stay tuned for Part Three …



Saturday, June 6, 2020

Reflections from the Frog Pond


As long as I live
I won't forget
when I first saw it
Just a kid of 8 or 10 

I was seldom indoors
No my natural habitat
was the woods and creek beds
that edged our little town

A world extended
by intermittent visits
to the nature section
of the school library

My niche included rabbits
blue jays monarch butterflies
giant tree fungi fossils and minnows
that I stalked and read about

Then, I found the frog pond
just an old muddy pool
on an abandoned farm
where cows had drunk in better times

I was attracted by the growing ends
of cat tails emerging from
drying and shredded leaves
at the interface of ground and cloudy water

It was about one foot
from this muddy edge
that I saw the jelly-like mass
that would frame my entire life

There gently undulating
just beneath the pond's surface
warmed by mid-spring sunlight
was a clutch of frog eggs

I returned to the pond each afternoon
on my walk home from school
alone so as not to expose my precious discovery
to the clods I otherwise considered friends

They would not understand
They would stomp
splash and destroy
laugh and leave

Alone I observed for the first time
that incredible first phase
of every life
embryonic development

I brought the old magnifying glass
that my grandmother
who was nearly blind
used to see the Sunday funny papers

Through that bulging eye
I watched amazed
as randomly assorted eggs
white on one side black on the other 

Rotated to position
all of their black halves
upwards
capturing the sun's warmth

Over the next several weeks 
I watched them divide and grow into spheres
elongate into rippling crescents
and hatch into swimming tadpoles

Each evening I read about
amphibian embryonic development
in the growing pile of overdue library books
that accumulated in my small bedroom

This nascent glimpse of the connection between
things living now and in the future
was the point of departure
for my entire life's passion and journey 

On subsequent visits to the pond
I watched the tadpoles
transform into frogs
resorbing their tails to grow legs

I began to note new relationships
complex interactions
connecting the embryo/tadpole/frog
and its pond environment

Looking back, this first glimpse of
one of today’s most vexing problems
came from my young boy's glance
of frog embryos and their environment

I began to perceive
mammalian embryos
including human embryos
in their environments

I began to perceive the interrelation between
the emerging individuality
of a developing human fetus and
the individuality of a pregnant woman

I began to understand
a dramatic tension between
interdependence and autonomy
of fetus and mother

I began to recognize
the incredible responsibility that
even this glimpse of the human reproduction
had placed on me

It wasn't until I was a teenager
that I heard about contraception
It wasn't until I was in college
that I learned about abortion

I worked most of my life
in the turbulent vortex of
women's health population
and environment

And even these controversial issues
have always felt like sub-plots
to that main mystery of
emerging fetal and maternal life

Sometimes, when the noise around me
reduces to a level that
I can hear myself think
this is what emerges 

People who have an abiding belief
in the sanctity of life people
who share fundamental beliefs
in the rights of women

People concerned about
population growth and 
who care about our planet's future
all have a great deal in common

Yes there are dynamic tensions 
at the intersections of these issues
important tensions
But there is common ground

I return to that frog pond of my boyhood
often in my mind
especially when the din of conflict
rings loudest in my ears

And there with the sun's low glint
on muddy water
with iris shafts slowly bending
to gentle surface ripples

With the trill of tree frogs
or chirps of leopard frogs
or croaks of bull frogs
I see this common ground

And it occurs to me that each of us
must have such places
deep springs where fundamental values
flow free and clear

And it seems to me that in these times
with harsh diatribe screaming from the poles
we must each find our own frog pond
hidden somewhere in memory

And, visit there often.

Sunday, March 15, 2020

Reflections from the frog pond


Reflections from the Frog Pond

As long as I live
I won't forget
when I first saw it
Just a kid of 8 or 10 

I was seldom indoors
No my natural habitat
was the woods and creek beds
that edged our little town

A world extended
by intermittent visits
to the nature section
of the school library

My niche included rabbits
blue jays monarch butterflies
giant tree fungi fossils and minnows
that I stalked and read about

Then, I found the frog pond
just an old muddy pool
on an abandoned farm
where cows had drunk in better times

I was attracted by the growing ends
of cat tails emerging from
drying and shredded leaves
at the interface of ground and cloudy water

It was about one foot
from this muddy edge
that I saw the jelly-like mass
that would frame my entire life

There gently undulating
just beneath the pond's surface
warmed by mid-spring sunlight
was a clutch of frog eggs

I returned to the pond each afternoon
on my walk home from school
alone so as not to expose my precious discovery
to the clods I otherwise considered friends

They would not understand
They would stomp
splash and destroy
laugh and leave

Alone I observed for the first time
that incredible first phase
of every life
embryonic development

I brought the old magnifying glass
that my grandmother
who was nearly blind
used to see the Sunday funny papers

Through that bulging eye
I watched amazed
as randomly assorted eggs
white on one side black on the other 

Rotated to position
all of their black halves
upwards
capturing the sun's warmth

Over the next several weeks I watched them divide and grow into spheres
elongate into rippling crescents
and hatch into swimming tadpoles

Each evening I read about
amphibian embryonic development
in the growing pile of overdue library books
that accumulated in my small bedroom

This nascent glimpse of the connection between
things living now and in the future
was the point of departure
for my entire life's passion and journey 

On subsequent visits to the pond
I watched the tadpoles
transform into frogs
resorbing their tails to grow legs

I began to note new relationships
complex interactions
connecting the embryo/tadpole/frog
and its pond environment

Looking back, this first glimpse of
one of today’s most vexing problems
came from my young boy's glance
of frog embryos and their environment

I began to perceive
mammalian embryos
including human embryos
in their environments

I began to perceive the interrelation between
the emerging individuality
of a developing human fetus and
the individuality of a pregnant woman

I began to understand
a dramatic tension between
interdependence and autonomy
of fetus and mother

I began to recognize
the incredible responsibility that
even this glimpse of the human reproduction
had placed on me

It wasn't until I was a teenager
that I heard about contraception
It wasn't until I was in college
that I learned about abortion

I worked most of my life
in the turbulent vortex of
women's health population
and environment

And even these controversial issues
have always felt like sub-plots
to that main mystery of
emerging fetal and maternal life 

Sometimes, when the noise around me
reduces to a level that
I can hear myself think
this is what emerges 

People who have an abiding belief
in the sanctity of life people
who share fundamental beliefs
in the rights of women

People concerned about
population growth and who care about our planet's future
all have a great deal in common

Yes there are dynamic tensions
at the intersections of these issues
important tensions
But there is common ground

I return to that frog pond of my boyhood
often in my mind
especially when the din of conflict
rings loudest in my ears

And there with the sun's low glint
on muddy water
with iris shafts slowly bending
to gentle surface ripples

With the trill of tree frogs
or chirps of leopard frogs
or croaks of bull frogs
I see this common ground

And it occurs to me that each of us
must have such places
deep springs where fundamental values
flow free and clear

And it seems to me that in these times
with harsh diatribe screaming from the poles
we must each find our own frog pond
hidden somewhere in memory

And, visit there often.

Forrest C. Greenslade, PhD
August, 2006
Revisited August, 2018


Wednesday, October 16, 2019

Chatham Latitude and Longitude



Chatham County is the geographical center of North Carolina. It is the locus from which we view the world and create art.

Place these Lat/Long coordinates in: https://www.latlong.net/Show-Latitude-Longitude.html and it will give you the address and a map to each studio.


Studio # 1 Janet Resnik Affordable, functional stoneware
Lat 35.860290, Long -79.218380
Studio # 2 Vince Pitelka Ceramics / Mixed Media
Lat 35.864790, Long -79.211540
Studio # 3 Jeffrey N. Clark Wood Turning, Jonathan Clark Wood, Barry Udis Photography
Lat 35.848360, Long -79.183560
Studio # 4 Marie Wright Ceramics
Lat 35.846250, Long -79.133770 
Studio # 5 Cathylee Mahin Watercolors
Lat 35.826560, Long -79.109670
Studio # 6 Hamish Jackson Ceramics
Lat 35.836190, Long -79.096930
Studio # 7 Louise Hobbs Ceramics
Lat 35.826460, Long -79.233200
Studio # 8 Judy Bauman Acrylic Painting
Lat 35.856460, Long -79.016640
Studio # 9 Rusty Sieck Stoneware Pottery
Lat 35.830880, Long -79.218720
Studio # 10 Annabelle Stein Textiles, screen-printed and painted silks
Lat 35.810680, Long -79.199400
Studio # 11 William Moore Sculpture in marble, wood, ceramic, bronze, steel and stone
Lat 35.809360, -79.198560
Studio # 12 Andrew Wilson Wood and Jewelry
Lat 35.807750, Long -79.134940
Studio # 13 Doug Dotson Ceramic / Stoneware
Lat 35.808290, Long -79.132220
Studio # 14 Leslie Palmer Drawing, Watercolor & Mixed Media Painting
Lat 35.808360, -79.080490
Studio # 15 Forrest Greenslade Nature-Inspired paintings and sculpture
Lat 35.804910, long -79.087660
Studio # 16 Lani Chaves Watercolor Painting
Lat 35.806049, Long -79.083458
Studio # 17 Steve Shafer Photography, Digital art
Lat 35.804100, Long -79.078770
Studio # 18 Eric Saunders Photography
Lat 35.790150, Long -79.075260
Studio # 19 Vidabeth Bensen Hand screened prints
Lat 35.806220, Long -79.073160
Studio # 20 Michael Blotzer Photography
Lat 35.796880, Long -79.125766
Studio # 21 Karen West Painting
Lat 35.794170, Long -79.067970
Studio # 22 Andi Sobbe Ceramics
Lat 35.784970, Long -78.986940
Studio # 23 Shannon Bueker Natural wonders in paint, clay and cards
Lat 35.769110, Long -79.166560
Studio # 24 Selden Lamoureux Ceramics
Lat 35.769070, -79.149330
Studio # 25 Amanda Greiner Painting, Craig Greiner Photography
Lat 35.774120, Long -79.139910
Studio # 26 Bronwyn Watson Ceramics
Lat 35.743600, Long -79.173050
Studio # 27 Linda Callihan Watkins Painting
Lat 35.731920, Long -79.140910
Studio # 28 Julio Alberdi Sculpture
Lat 35.733360, Long -79.097010
Studio # 29 Linda Collura Drawing painting
Lat 35.722650, Long -79.183720
Studio # 30 Mark Hewitt Beautiful place, beautiful pots
Lat 35.713200, Long -79.132860
Studio # 31 Judith Smith Painting, Rita Baldwin Oil on Canvas
Lat 35.705470, Long -79.103850
Studio # 32 Lee Kazanas Ceramics
Lat 35.620070, Long -79.076600
Studio # 33 Eva Green Basketry, Fiber, Mixed Media, Wood, Gretchen Niver Fused and stained glass panels, bowls, platters, ornaments, and tiles, Lara O’Keefe Ceramics Janice Rieves Glass mosaic, sculptural lighting and ferrocement sculpture, Diane Swan Wood Furniture, mixed media, Painting
Lat 35.682230, Long -79.218310
Studio # 34 Kim Campbell Glass, Heather Gerni Painting mixed media
Lat 35.664650, Long -79.134800
Studio # 35 Beth Bale Painting Sarah Graham Painting
Lat 35.599560, Long -79.199340
Place these Lat/Long coordinates in: https://www.latlong.net/Show-Latitude-Longitude.html and it will give you the address and a map to each studio

Friday, April 19, 2019

Arbor Day in Fearrington Village 2019

We had a wonderful walk along the North Langdon Trail to celebrate Arbor Day on April 18th 2019. Green Scene Moderator Jason Welsch, Trail Master Henry Castner and FHA BOD President Judith Andersson joined arborist and naturalist Frank McKeever who led the tour. It was a "Carolina blue" day with birds singing and soft breezes wafting as we enjoyed Frank's educational talk.
Henry, Frank, Judith and Jason

Frank explaining

Marilyn Racine at the
Charles Ravine mamorial rewilding plot

Jason by the Arbor Day Sweet Bay Magnolia that he planted