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Doubtless you know about fairy circles, also called fairy rings. According to Wikipedia, they’re a “naturally occurring ring or arc of mushrooms. The rings may grow to over 10 metres (33 ft) in diameter, and they become stable over time as the fungus grows and seeks food underground.

“They are found mainly in forested areas, but also appear in grasslands or rangelands. Fairy rings are detectable by sporocarps in rings or arcs, as well as by a necrotic zone (dead grass), or a ring of dark green grass. If these manifestations are visible a fairy fungus mycelium is likely to be present in the ring or arc underneath.

“Fairy rings also occupy a prominent place in European folklore as the location of gateways into elfin kingdoms.”

But in Africa, there is a different kind of fairy circle that doesn’t seem to have anything to do with mushrooms.

Did you catch the article by Sindya Bhanoo in the NY Times?

“The grasslands of Namibia — and to a lesser extent its neighbors Angola and South Africa — are speckled with millions of mysterious bare spots called ‘fairy circles,’ their origins unknown.

“Now, a study based on several years of satellite images describes the circles’ life span as they appear, transform over decades, and then eventually disappear.

“Writing in the journal PLoS One, Walter R. Tschinkel, the study’s author and a biologist at Florida State University, reports that the circles can last 24 to 75 years.

“The circles, which range from about 6 to 30 feet in diameter, begin as bare spots on an otherwise continuous grass carpet; after a few years, taller grass starts to grow around the circle’s perimeter.”

The reader is left with the question, Are these circles gateways to elfin kingdoms? What kind of elves are in Namibia?

I don’t understand why scientists don’t investigate matters like that.

Update July 13, 2012: Asakiyume has been tracking down stories about African fairy circles. Read this.

Update March 30, 2013: NY Times has fingered a particular species of sand termites, Psammotermes alloceru. Read this.

Photograph: Walter R. Tschinkel

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I’ve been enjoying the album “On the Road from Appomattox,” the latest release of outstanding local bluegrass band Southern Rail.

I’ve also been asking myself what makes a song on the album, “Mr. Beford’s Barn,” so moving.

An old man comes to the narrator’s farm and says he wants to see the barn he helped his daddy build years ago. The barn is very solidly constructed, nearly 100 years old now, and the refrain says it will probably last another hundred years.

It makes a person think about how fine it is to make something that lasts hundreds of years. But the more I thought about it, the more I wondered if maybe the hundred-year-ness is not what’s moving.

The old man will not be there for hundreds of years and will not be enjoying the fact that the barn lasted so long. The reason he wants to see it is that he knows he helped make something that’s very fine. It’s the well-built-ness that is valuable. The hundreds of years are merely a feature of the value.

I think you will like the song. Although it is not on YouTube, the band lists its YouTube songs here, and you might want to listen to a few if you are thinking of buying Appomattox.

http://www.southernrail.com/

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I was pumping gas, and a guy with California plates who was filling the tank for his wife commented that our town seems incredibly pretty and quiet. I said it’s quiet because everyone leaves in summer. That surprised him. He thought it would be busy in summer because it’s so beautiful.

Made me think. Why are we always looking for someplace else to be?

 

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Asakiyume writes that an old friend visited her and brought along an unusual harp. Asakiyume explains that the nyckelharpa is “a Swedish musical instrument that’s both keyed and bowed.”

That sounds harder than walking and chewing gum. Even the hurdy-gurdy that I hear in the subway doesn’t look as hard as that sounds, and the hurdy-gurdy involves keying and cranking.

“It’s older than the violin,” Asakiyume says of the nyckelharpa, adding, “my friend tells me there are old tapestries and paintings showing the angels playing these nyckelharpa in heaven.”

(Readers of this blog will note that I can seldom resist tidbits about Sweden. Egypt is another favorite. Both for family reasons.)

Here is Asakiyume’s friend playing the nyckelharpa.

 

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At the WordPress blog Montreal in Pictures, Martin has posted his beautiful photos of beautiful sand sculptures. Hard to believe this in a city beach.

Sand is challenging to work with. You have to keep it wet. But not too wet or it gets sloppy. The pros keep misting their creations lightly with spray bottles. I imagine sculpting in ice entails other very specific challenges. Especially if there is a warm spell at New Year’s.

Suzanne and John often participated in sand-sculpture contests in the summer. It was good fun, although you rarely saw anything as elaborate as the creations in Montreal. I don’t think anyone on the island organizes such competitions anymore, so we just try to be alert and have a camera ready for spontaneous solitary eruptions of creative energy.

Lots more great sand-sculpture photos by Martin here.

Photograph: Martin New at Montreal in Pictures

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I haven’t been to Concord’s homey celebration in years, and yesterday was a good day to see it at its best. Please note the “burning building” with fake flames, which the fire department repeatedly doused, cooling off the children watching at a safe distance.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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On Tuesday, a group from work set out at lunchtime for lobster rolls (and shrimp rolls and crab rolls) at James Hook & Co., whose golden lobster weathervane appeared in one of my previous posts.

Then we joined the crowds on the Harbor Walk to luxuriate in tall ships and a gorgeous sky.

A vessel flying the Jolly Roger was dwarfed by the triumphs of modern capitalism. (I won’t say “piracy” because I have no idea what goes on in those buildings.)

 

A teaching schooner called the “Roseway,” from the World Ocean School, was taking tourists out.

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First there were ghost leaves embedded in the sidewalks. And then … mystery messages.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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I took a taste of local strawberries, and they brought back the little wild strawberries of my childhood. And how a friend might come over, and I might tell her in whispers that I had found a secret place.

I wouldn’t say where exactly until we got close, and she would have to promise not to tell anyone. Then, checking around that no one was watching, I would lead her into a stand of pine trees and out into a clearing in the middle. And there we would sit down and pick wild strawberries, which are always sweeter than any in the supermarket.

Today I was asking my boss about his vacation with his wife’s family in France. He said his four-year-old had such freedom there to run outside and play with cousins. It reminded him of the freedom of his own childhood, and he thought his daughter was only just now experiencing the way childhood is supposed to be. Where he lives, in the city, his little girl could never just run out  like that.

(If you are interested, here is one of many studies on the importance of nature and play in childhood.)

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I wonder if this laptop bag would have helped my friend Kai in Barcelona, where he was robbed twice on one trip.

It’s a bag that has an alarm and strobe lights you can activate quite easily, but what if you don’t know your bag’s been stolen?

Personally, I think it would be more useful to have a magic harp, like the one Jack tries to pinch in “Jack and the Beanstalk.” I like the idea of possessions that know when they are being stolen and call for help.

In case you have forgotten the details, check out Wikipedia.

After climbing the beanstalk, “Jack is hidden by the giant’s wife and overhears the giant counting his money. Jack steals a bag of gold coins as he makes his escape down the beanstalk. Jack repeats his journey up the beanstalk two more times, each time he is helped by the increasingly suspicious wife of the giant and narrowly escapes with one of the giant’s treasures. The second time, he steals a hen which laid golden eggs and the third time a magical harp that played by itself.”

If I can’t have magic, I think I would at least want a gizmo that can activate the bag’s alarm from a distance as soon as I realize it’s been stolen.

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When I worked with Denise at a certain hyped management magazine, I always knew she had better things in her than the tasks she was given there.

Moreover, she was the most sensible 25-year-old I had ever met. After moving on to better jobs, including writing for teens at Scholastic, she turned to the hardest and most important work in the world. And on the whole, it seems to suit her.

But nothing can stop the itch to write. Here she shares the joy and frustration of reading repetitive stories to book-hungry kids:

“Nothing brings me more joy than knowing how much my 5-year-old son, Isaiah, looks forward to sitting in our rocking chair while I read him books at bedtime. And my heart swells with love whenever my 2-year-old twins, Joel and Nina, bring me books and say, ‘Read book, please.’

“But, holy moly, I’ve run into a very serious problem. While Isaiah can enjoy a variety of different stories, the twins are all about sameness. Even though I rotate their books constantly so we’re not reading the same ones every week, the repetitiveness of reading these books is driving me crazy.

“I’m sure many parents are familiar with the rhythm and rhyme scheme of many children’s board books, ‘Bend and reach, touch your toes. Now stand up straight and touch your nose!’ Lately, I’ve been adding a few colorful rhymes in my head as I read these books to the twins. ‘Clap your hands, then point to your shoes, reading this book is driving me to booze!’ ” Read more.

(I admit I felt the same way about Richard Scarry. The pictures were darling, but the words, not so, even if I did let “five-seater pencil car” become part of my vocabulary.)

For a mom with twins, it is must be twice as much “bend, reach, touch your toes,” but for sure these kids will grow up to be readers.

This is Denise with one of her three book mavens.

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Eben Horton, a glassblower with a studio in Wakefield, Rhode Island, loved hearing how glassblowers in Lincoln City, Oregon, had hidden special creations on a local beach for a community treasure hunt.

Inspired to do something similar, he settled on the idea of glass floats, the kind traditionally used on fishing nets.

The Block Island Tourism Council helped Horton launch the Glass Float Project. The council’s site has details.

“WHEN: The hunt begins June 2nd, 2012, and continues indefinitely. It only ends when all the floats have been found!

“WHAT: 200 Glass Floats (glass orbs about the size of a grapefruit) will be hidden on Block Island. Floats will be dated, numbered and stamped with the shape of Block Island. All floats are clear glass except for 12 (because it is 2012), which are special colored orbs. One super special float is made entirely out of gold leaf.

“WHERE: 100 floats on beaches and 100 floats on Greenway trails. Floats will be hidden above the high tide mark but NEVER in the dunes or up the bluffs.”

Understandably, they don’t want people walking on the dunes, which protect the island in storms.

Check the council website for the bio on the artist, too: “Eben creates custom one of a kind pieces on an individual basis out of his studio that he calls ‘The Glass Station’- a converted 1920’s gas station.” More.

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These photos were placed on the Greenway sidewalk near Boston’s North End. They are the result of the Flash Forward Festival for emerging photographers, which took place earlier this month. The event is sponsored by the Magenta Foundation of Magenta magazine (“publishing for the arts”).

“Set within the Boston cityscape, the five-day festival is based out of the Fairmont Battery Wharf, offering an in-depth experience through organized networking events and educational programming that brings internationally respected industry professionals together to share their knowledge with the next generation of photographers. Programming includes curated indoor and outdoor exhibitions, a Harborwalk exhibition series featuring work from local galleries, along with lectures, panel discussions, and nightly events.” Read more about it here.

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I am trying too figure out what the acronym RAW stands for. It’s an organization to promote young artists in many media.

“RAW:natural born artists is an independent arts organization, for artists, by artists. We’re a community made up of creative individuals across the nation. Our mission is to provide independent artists within the first 10 years of their career with the tools, resources and exposure needed to inspire and cultivate creativity.”

The website says that in 2003, Heidi Luerra moved from a small town to Los Angeles to become a fashion designer. But being a small fish in a big pond was a struggle. She met young people in other fields who were also struggling, and she had an idea for bringing them together.

“In 2005, Heidi Luerra threw her first multi-faceted showcase in Los Angeles. After much interest from the over 750 attendees that came to the event, she found her calling — to create a platform for the many people who are talented, yet go unnoticed.

“In 2009, equipped with a mission of bringing tools and resources to artists who were fighting the good fight on their own, RAW was born. After the first RAW event, a local web developer, Matthew Klahorst, approached Heidi about combining these art events with an online showcase for artists. From this collaboration came the next evolution of RAW —  promoting artists both online and offline.

“In 2011, they decided to take the concept beyond Southern California. RAW now hosts monthly showcases that spotlight indie talent in film, fashion, music, art, hair & makeup artistry, performing art and photography in 54 cities across the U.S and counting. By July 2012, RAW will be in 54 U.S. cities and Australia. RAW will launch in China and Europe in 2013.”

Read more. And if you are an artist in the first ten years of your career, consider joining the showcase.

Art: Joa Stenning

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No doubt I would have grown up to be a photographer if the Brownie cameras and box cameras I used as a child had not gotten sand in them. After at least a week of high anticipation, the film kept coming back black. Very discouraging. All the effort I had put into creating little still-life scenes with dolls and sea shells — wasted!

So a word to the wise, if you take a camera to the beach, protect it.

I got a few pictures on this lovely June day, but I fear they lack the artistry that surely would have been evident had sand not mysteriously worked its way into all cameras in my youth.

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