A Caution Against Erudition

I am reading the book Numero Zero by Umberto Eco.  The book, while cleverly-written, is a bit slow off the blocks for my taste.  Eco seems to have had more fun writing the book than I am having in reading it.

Nevertheless, I was amused by one comment from the book's narrator, Colonna, a jaded hack journalist:

"Losers, like autodidacts, always know much more than winners.  If you want to win, you need to know just one thing and not to waste your time on anything else: the pleasures of erudition are reserved for losers.  The more a person knows, the more things have gone wrong."

Thanksgiving in San Diego

My older son invited me to San Diego to join him and his wife and toddler for Thanksgiving week.  We had a wonderful time together.  One morning we went to the zoo:

I usually delight in watching tapirs frolic but, alas, this tapir was drowsy and looked rather hoglike.

Here is a picture out the airport window before I boarded the plane back to Denver today.  Palm trees always perk me up.

Farewell to sunny California!

In A Melancholy Mood

It is a cold, gray day in mid-November. 

I am reading a somber novel called The Tartar Steppe by Dino Buzzati.  The story concerns a young Lieutenant who is posted to a small fort on the edge of a vast and desolate frontier.  The Lieutenant is dismayed at the barrenness of his new surroundings, and his dispirited thoughts about his life are in harmony with the weather outside my apartment.

The passage:

Up to then he had gone forward through the heedless season of early youth -- along a road which to children seems infinite, where the years slip past slowly and with quiet pace so that no one notices them go.  We walk along calmly, looking curiously around us; there is not the least need to hurry, no one pushes us on from behind and no one is waiting for us; our comrades, too, walk on thoughtlessly, and often stop to joke and play.  From the houses, in the doorways, the grown-up people greet us kindly and point to the horizon with an understanding smile.  And so the heart begins to beat with desires at once heroic and tender, we feel that we are on the threshold of the wonders awaiting us further on.  As yet we do not see them, that is true -- but it is certain, absolutely certain that one day we shall reach them.

Is it far yet?  No, you have to cross that river down there, go over those green hills.  Haven't we perhpas arrived already?  Aren't these trees, these meadows, this white house perhaps what we were looking for?  For a few seconds we feel that they are and we would like to halt there.  Then someone says that it is better further on and we move off again unhurriedly.

So the journey continues; we wait trustfully and the days are long and peaceful.  The sun shines high in the sky and it seems to have no wish to set.

But at a certain point we turn round, almost instinctively and see that a gate has been bolted behind us, barring our way back.  Then we feel that something has changed; the sun no longer seems to be motionless but moves quickly across the sky; there is barely time to find it when it is already falling headlong towards the far horizon.  We notice that the clouds no longer lie motionless in the blue gulfs of the sky but flee, piled on above the other, such is their haste.  Then we understand that time is passing and that one day or another the road must come to an end.

Reservoir Wild Life

I took a walk near the reservoir at dusk.  Two coyotes were loping along in the distance.  They paid me no attention.

After my walk I was returning home and passed by nine deer grazing on the field next to a church.  They paid me no attention either.  Perhaps I am invisible to animals.  Here are two of the deer.

All in all, this was an interesting walk.  Here is the day's scorecard.

Trackchairs in the park

Staunton State Park is the first state park in Colorado to provide track chairs to disabled visitors.  Thanks to donors, two Action Trackchairs and a trailer have been purchased for guest use in the park.​​

Here is one of the trackchairs.

When the moose are excessively frisky, one might prefer a more formidable conveyance.

 

Back to Staunton State Park

It was a good day to hike at Staunton State Park.  The snake/deer metric was entirely favorable:

Walking along a trail, I came to a cabin that formerly belonged to playwright Mary Chase (1906-1981), a Denver gal, who was a journalist for the Rocky Mountain News from 1924 to 1931.  Her gentle fantasy Harvey won the Pulitzer Prize for Drama in 1945.  Here is a Wikipedia picture of this accomplished Denverite:

Here is another picture.  She apparently was fond of that voluminous hat.

Here is a third picture.  She had such expressive eyes.  It is well known that Irish women have the power to mesmerize a man.

A still from the movie.  Jimmy Stewart was perfectly cast as the genial crackpot Elwood P. Dowd, who was best friends with a 6-foot pooka named Harvey.

Here are two bits of dialogue from the 1950 movie's screenplay that I have remembered for decades:

SANDERSON - You know we all must face reality, Dowd, sooner or later.

ELWOOD - Uh huh - Well, I wrestled with reality for thirty-five years, doctor, and I'm happy to state I finally won out over it.

...

ELWOOD - Oh, Doctor, I - I - (STAMMERS) Years ago, my mother used to say to me -- she'd say, 'In this world, Elwood, you must be --' She always called me Elwood. 'In this world, Elwood, you must be oh, so smart or oh, so pleasant.' Well, for years I was smart. I recommend pleasant. And you may quote me.


Here is an excerpt from a Canadian Broadcasting Corporation interview with Mary Chase from late in her life:

“I came to write Harvey after having a bad flop on Broadway in the ’30s. I decided at that point that the theater was probably not for me and I settled down to raise my three boys. I had come to terms with myself and my life and I was quite happy. I was married to a wonderful man and had three fine boys. Then, one day in the early years of World War II, something happened which changed my life. Across the street from our house was an apartment house. As I was leaving every morning at 8:15 with my boys, a woman would emerge from the door of the apartment house and go in the opposite direction, to the bus to go downtown to work. I didn’t know the woman, but I heard she was a widow with one son in the Naval Air arm who was a bombardier in the Pacific. One day, I heard that her son was lost. Things like that were happening to so many people then, it wasn’t what jolted me so much as the fact that in a week or ten days I saw this woman leaving the apartment house, going a little more slowly to catch the bus to go back to work. She began to haunt me. Could I ever think of anything to make that woman laugh again? I knew she wouldn’t laugh at a comedy about sex or money or politics. I kept looking for ideas and rejecting them. Then, one morning, I awoke at five o’clock and saw a psychiatrist walking across our bedroom floor followed by an enormous white rabbit and I knew I had it. I worked on it for a year and a half and sent it to my friend, Brock Pemberton, Antoinette Perry’s partner. Antoinette Perry is a Denver woman (she became the director for Harvey), and I knew them both. They had produced my first play – a flop, a bad one. So I sent them this play, and it opened to rave reviews and ran four and one-half years. I came back to Denver after the opening and the woman across the street had moved, and I didn’t know where she moved so I never met her. But I kept receiving letters from people who had cousins and brothers and sons in the war, saying ‘We’ve seen the show and we’ve had the first laugh since.’ So I felt then that somehow, I had done what I set out to do.”

Resuming the account of today's hike...   Here is the placard describing Mary Chase's cabin and property.  She was about 65 at the time of the purchase.  (The odd coloration of the placard is due to the reflection of my orange shirt and faded blue jeans.)

And the cabin itself...

I would have gotten closer pictures, but the cabin appeared to be someone's current residence.  You can see a TV satellite dish fastened to the end of the porch.

Before the Frost

After today's excellent weather -- perfect bicycling weather with a high of 63 degrees -- the temperature is predicted to plummet to 22 degrees by 9:00 a.m. tomorrow. 

Confronted with this dread prediction, I grabbed my camera and hastened to snap pictures of the endangered fall colors.  Here is what I was able to capture of fleeting beauty.

Goodbye, bright colors!

In Iowa

My younger son and I went to Iowa from Oct 5 through Oct 8 to celebrate my father's birthday.  Relatives from my father's side reunited on Oct 6 for an excellent down-home luncheon at a local landmark, The Machine Shed (#5 out of 288 restaurants in town, according to Trip Advisor).  We ate family style.

I took only one photograph during the trip.  It would have been wiser to have taken pictures of all my relatives; these reunions are relatively infrequent.  But I tend to rely on my sister to be the family archivist.

Here is the lone photograph: a row of flowers along the side of the garage.  My mother always liked to grow flowers there, and my father has preserved the tradition as a living memory.

A Walk in Roxborough State Park

I took a leisurely walk in Roxborough State Park this afternoon.  The weather was mild.  I observed no animals about, except for a miniature lizard and a bluebird.

I began my walk at about 3:20 p.m., or 2:20 p.m. sundial time.

The low afternoon sun brought out the color in the rock scenery.

Near the end of the loop was a restored cabin.  I played Peeping Tom and took a picture of the interior.

The incongruous wooden implement in the lower left corner of the last picture is a plough.  Apparently, people in earlier days had an eclectic perspective on parlor decor.

September Flowers

One of the delightful, though often taken for granted, advantages of living near an office park is the abundance of beautiful flower gardens on street corners and in front of office buildings.  I took a two-block stroll this afternoon and photographed the following representative flowers.  I started near the fountains and then headed down to the nearest street corner.

At the street corner:

Across the street:

Heading south to the nearest crosswalk:

Along the sidewalk:

Jumping into the street to take a photo of tall irises in the median strip:

Two photographs of excellent flower beds in front of an office building:

Passing by a flower bed of wild roses on the way back home:

Hurrah!

Labor Day Rodents

I am returning to the blog after a summer spent in continual labor.  Fortunately, today I was able to spend a quiet Labor Day walking through the nearby reservoir area.  I was a good day to observe prairie dogs, both recumbent and erect.

Rabbits also were present in profusion.  Although rabbits are no longer classified as rodents, I am including a picture for old time's sake.

On the Turkey Trot Trail

I drove to Mt. Falcon yesterday to have a short hike on Turkey Trot Trail.  The temperature was climbing rapidly toward 90 degrees.

It was such a hot day that a rabbit was reluctant to leave its shady patch on the trail until I approached within ten feet.

The top section of Turkey Trot Trail, with its rich cover of trees, is a comfortable place to hike.  Here is a picture that looks back at this shaded top section.  The bottom section of the trail is rocky and fully exposed to direct sun, altogether resembling a parched Death Valley creek bed down the mountain.

Difficult Hike at Golden Gate State Park

My younger son invited to me to one of my favorite state parks: Golden Gate State Park (no relation to the Golden Gate bridge).  The weather was excellent -- partly cloudy with temperatures in the high 50s.  Everything was great except for my level of fitness.  Too much food and too much idleness over the past six months had made me fat and lazy.  The six mile hike ended up taking us (that is, me) 3 and 1/2 hours.  I devoted at least 30 minutes of that time hunched over trying to recover my breath.

My son was a good sport about wasting half a day on a mildly strenuous hike that he would have finished in two hours without breaking a sweat.

My son and I originally planned to hike the 6.7 mile Mountain Lion Trail starting at the Nott Creek parking lot.  (Marked on the following park map with symbols of mountain lion paws.)  When it became obvious that I was running out of energy, we decided to take a short cut down Burro Trail (symbolized by the back end of a burro).  Finally, we gave up on trails altogether and took the park's jeep trail (shown as the black line) back to Nott Creek.

Despite my fitness deficiencies, I still derived some pleasure in getting out of town and enjoying the park.

For example, I enjoyed the footbridges.  Every footbridge in the park has its own design.  Some are built from tree trunks split down the middle.  Some are built from stout rough-hewn boards.  Some are cute little bridges like this one, which appeared to be constructed from garden edging logs from Home Depot.

There is a beautiful creek in the park.  My son speculated that gold flecks might get washed down from Windy Peak and deposited in the pool shown in this photo.  As we had neglected to bring a sluicing pan, we could not investigate.

One of the joys of hiking in the woods is discovering new plants and animals.  Here is my first observation of a plant that I have christened the Rocky Mountain Snowball Cactus based on its size and shape.