Tucson Lit: The Forest in the Seeds

Milkweed seed pod, Blue Jay Farm, Missouri. October 2010.

The real Wild Kingdom is as small and brown as a wren, as tedious as a squirrel turning back the scales of a pine cone to capture its seeds, as quiet as a milkweed seed on the wind - the long, slow stillness between takes. This, I think, is the message in the bottle from Thoreau, [in Faith in a Seed] the man who noticed a clump of seeds caught in the end of a cow's whisking tail ...

Source: Barbara Kingsolver, The Forest in the Seeds, from her 1995 book of essays, High Tide in Tucson.

Seed pod, Ha Ha Tonka State Park, Missouri. October 2010.

... As a nation we will never defer to the endangered spotted owl .... until we are much more widely educated. But the things we will have to know -  concepts of food chain, habitat, selection pressure and adaptation, and the ways all species depend on others - are complex ideas that just won't fit into a thirty-second spot. Evolution can't be explained in a sound bite.

Barbara Kingsolver

Curled seed pod, Alamogordo, New Mexico. July 2013.

Even well-intentioned educational endeavors like carefully edited nature films, and the easy access to exotic animals offered by zoos, are tailored to our impatience. They lead us to expect nature will be all storm and no lull. It's a dangerous habit. Natural history writer Robert Michael Pyle asks: 'If we can watch rhinos mating in our living rooms, who's going to notice the wren in the back yard'?

Barbara Kingsolver

Magnolia fruit, Opelousas, Louisiana. October 2015.

Related posts

• Tucson Lit: High Tide in Tucson
• Tucson Lit: Creation Stories
• Tucson Lit: The Forest in the Seeds

Flashback to July 2013: Tsé Bitʼaʼí - Shiprock-the Sacred and the Banal

 

Going back in time to this post: 

Friday, July 5, 2013

Tsé Bitʼaʼí - Shiprock - the Sacred and the Banal

Shiprock, New Mexico.

There was a time when I believed humans to be rational beings who sought consistency in the application of our beliefs (religious or otherwise), and that once we had the facts of x, y, or z, we would adjust our thoughts or behaviors in accordance with our espoused beliefs.

Shiprock, New Mexico.

This assumption of mine caused me no end of consternation over the years until I realized that:

1. Our rational selves have only a precarious edge over our animal selves; and 
2. It is normal for us to hold opposing beliefs simultaneously, and it doesn't necessarily matter if we know they are inconsistent.

Shiprock, New Mexico.

Which brings me to Shiprock or, in the Navajo language, Tsé Bitʼaʼí., which means "winged rock." It's a sacred place to the Navajo. One of the stories related to Shiprock is: 

A long time ago the Dine were hard pressed by their enemies. One night their medicine men prayed for their deliverance, having their prayers heard by the Gods. They caused the ground to rise, lifting the Dine,  and moved the ground like a great wave into the east away from their enemies. It settled where Shiprock Peak now stands. These Navajos then lived on the top of this new mountain, only coming down to plant their fields and to get water.

For some time all went well. Then one day during a storm, and while the men were working in the fields, the trail up the rock was split off by lightning and only a sheer cliff was left. The women, children, and old men on the top slowly starved to death, leaving their bodies to settle there.

Therefore, because of this legend, the Navajos do not want any one to climb Shiprock Peak for fear of stirring up the ch'iidii, or rob their corpses.

This concern about stirring up the bad mojo in Shiprock conforms with my understanding of the Navajo taboos regarding death, such as talking about it or about those who've died. 

Shiprock, New Mexico.

There seem to be two, and maybe three, roads to Shiprock. I took two of them as far as my low-slung car on a bad gravel road could safely take me. (And I'd read about ill-tempered dog packs in the area, so I didn't want to walk too far away from my car.) 

Both of the roads I took were off of Highway 13. The first one, closest to Highway 491, was littered with beer bottles and cans. The second entrance was clean of debris. Why the difference? I don't know. 

The first road triggered cognitive dissonance for me:

• Sacred place, yet defiled by empty beer containers
• If you're going to drink, then why not take your litter with you
• If the place is sacred, is there no group that comes out periodically to pick up the place?  
• The Indian "brand" is that Natives revere the earth (some part of that brand being foisted upon them, I think). Yet there is so much visible evidence to the contrary when one sees such trash. But a note: I used to hold evangelicals (insert faith here) to a higher moral standard than non-proselytizers, until I finally got it that they are no more immune to our animal selves than the rest of us, so I took them off the hook. Looks like I've been holding Indians to a higher standard than other folks, and I need to release that.  

Old anti-littering campaign. For the record: Man in photo is not Indian. Credit: The Litter Problem.

And some other disturbing thoughts that are reflective of biases I have:

• Until I began writing this post, I held the untested belief that the beer trash came from partying Navajos. Maybe my assumption is accurate, but it's uncomfortable to realize how mindlessly I jumped to that conclusion. 
• Without knowing the cultural context of a behavior (i.e. beer bottles left at a sacred place), all I've got is a puzzle piece without the picture and without other pieces to link it to. 

About that cultural context. Mentioning alcohol and Indian in the same sentence --> aberrant connotations. But if I were talking about Georgians and, say, letting adolescents drink on a school field trip or the custom of anointing the graves of loved ones with wine --> accepted cultural behaviors. 

Another example of context: I learned from a family in Addis Ababa, who lived in a house with lovely bones, but which was in deplorable condition, that if they were to do repairs or remodeling - on their own dime! - that the government would raise their rent, and they would be damned before they gave the government one cent more than what the government already exacted from them. The choice to live in difficult conditions made sense to them within a larger context.

Reminds me, too, of the narrow houses in Georgetown, Washington, D.C. - built so narrowly because home owners were taxed at one time on the basis of the width of their houses. Context.

Shiprock, New Mexico.

On the other hand, we can't control how others perceive us.

Beer bottles and cans littering a sacred place. An observation.

New Mexico: Architecture 1: Alamogordo: Azotea

North-facing, Azotea Apts, Alamogordo, New Mexico

Back here, I said I wanted to get an understanding of how New Mexican architecture does and doesn't work with its climate for comfort and economy. I'm using "economy" in its broadest sense, encompassing financial and environmental costs/benefits.

West-facing, Azotea Apts, Alamogordo, New Mexico

I revisited the Azotea apartment complex on First Street in Alamogordo so I could get a better look at the design, the residents' outdoor space, the landscaping, and how it all interacts with the sun.

North-facing, Azotea Apts, Alamogordo, New Mexico

Aesthetically, I'm really taken with Azotea. I love the soft sage-y green color, the mid-century boxiness, how the structures are framed by the mountain range, and to a fair extent, the xeriscaping.

Large windows south-facing, Azotea Apts, Alamogordo, New Mexico

What I like specifically about the landscaping is its scale - it doesn't overpower the buildings and it doesn't compete visually with the mountain backdrop. And it appears that it's low maintenance, with a naturalized look, and, of course, is not too thirsty.

Large windows south-facing, Azotea Apts, Alamogordo, New Mexico

It does look a little raggedy, but I'm assuming this is because of its youth; I expect the landscaping will get better each year as its components mature.

South-facing, Azotea Apts, Alamogordo, New Mexico

What I don't like about Azotea is that so many of these giant picture windows have a southern sun exposure - that must be brutal at the height of the summer, with what appears to be only dated vertical blinds as a protection for the inhabitants inside. Yeah, I get that a southern exposure in temperate climates make a lot of sense, but in the high desert where the summers are so hot and the winters relatively mild? It's a lot easier (and cheaper) to get myself warm in a mild winter than try to cool myself off in a hot summer.   

Common area runs east-west, Azotea Apts, Alamogordo, New Mexico

The buildings that are in the middle of the complex have more protection from the sun, but they pay for that in loss of view.

South-facing, Azotea Apts, Alamogordo, New Mexico

South-facing, Azotea Apts, Alamogordo, New Mexico

Given the developers' aspiration to be green, I'm perplexed by the paucity of shade design. Yes, there is a bit of overhang over the large windows and the doorways, but these are so meager in size. Again, for those south-facing, heat-collecting windows, why not more substantial shade design? 











Finally, what I don't like is the stinginess of the residents' personal outdoor space. Some units seem to have only doll-sized patio slabs, or the bit more roomier front-door entrances. Not getting that.

South-facing, Azotea Apts, Alamogordo, New Mexico

  
What it's inside these units, I don't know. Maybe some day I'll get a look. I'd like to.

South-facing, Azotea Apts, Alamogordo, New Mexico

There are probably some design considerations in Azotea vis a vis the sun that I don't know about. Also, as a shade-lover, I may be more sensitive to the sun thing.  Maybe someone more knowledgeable will comment. 

Overall, I like the cosmetics of Azotea's design. As a passer-by and not a resident. 

Cultural Lessons in New Mexico: Air Conditioners vs Swamp Coolers

And now, for the weather

Missouri is hot and humid in the summer. So hot and humid that back in the day, before air conditioning, when there was a British consulate in St. Louis, the British staff received hardship pay.

New Mexico is hot and dry in the summer. Between 8 and 10 degrees hotter than Missouri (during the day). 

In Missouri, we use air conditioners to cool (and dry) the air. The air conditioners rely on electricity and (in older air conditioners) freon to work. (In New Mexico, I notice air conditioners are often referred to as "refrigerated air.")

Swamp cooler. Credit: Allied Swamp Cooler Repair

In New Mexico, swamp coolers are common. They rely on electricity and water to work.
 

St Louis Weather

US Geography / US Weather / Missouri Weather / St Louis

Jan

Feb

Mar

Apr

May

Jun

Jul

Aug

Sep

Oct

Nov

Dec

Avg. High

37°

42°

54°

66°

76°

85°

88°

87°

78°

68°

54°

41°

Avg. Low

20°

25°

35°

46°

56°

65°

70°

67°

60°

48°

37°

26°

Mean

28°

34°

45°

57°

66°

75°

80°

78°

70°

58°

46°

34°

Avg. Precip.

1.8 in

2.1 in

3.6 in

3.5 in

4.0 in

3.7 in

3.9 in

2.9 in

3.1 in

2.7 in

3.3 in

3.0 in

Degrees in Fahrenheit

 

Alamogordo Weather

US Geography / US Weather / New Mexico Weather / Alamogordo

Jan

Feb

Mar

Apr

May

Jun

Jul

Aug

Sep

Oct

Nov

Dec

Avg. High

56°

62°

68°

78°

86°

95°

94°

91°

86°

77°

66°

57°

Avg. Low

28°

32°

38°

45°

54°

62°

65°

64°

57°

47°

36°

28°

Mean

44°

47°

54°

62°

70°

78°

80°

78°

72°

64°

51°

44°

Avg. Precip.

0.7 in

0.5 in

0.5 in

0.3 in

0.5 in

0.9 in

2.3 in

2.4 in

2.0 in

1.3 in

0.7 in

0.8 in

Degrees in Fahrenheit

The above info is from Country Studies. 

Humidity specifically

In July, Missouri typically has a relative humidity level between 50 and 80%, depending on time of day. 

In July, Alamogordo typically has a relative humidity level between 32 and 62%, depending on time of day. 

Generally, humidity is lowest during the hottest time of day. 

The humidity factor is important because swamp coolers work best when the air is dry. Too much humidity and they just generate hot, wet air. 

In Missouri, then, swamp coolers won't work. They won't work in the swamps, either. 

What the hell is a swamp cooler? 

Otherwise known as "evaporative" coolers, here is a really good explanation of swamp coolers. Complete with a moving graphic that shows the process.

As with air conditioners, swamp coolers will reduce the interior temps by, at most, 20 degrees. The drier the air, the more effective the cooling capacity.

With a swamp cooler, you must have a couple of windows open to create air flow. This is counter-intuitive, but that's just the way it is.

Swamp coolers are far cheaper to run than air conditioners, and they don't require the freon, which we know messes with the environment. 

On the other hand, swamp coolers do require water, which is an issue in some places. Per the link above, they can require between three to 15 gallons of water per day.

In New Mexico, there's the monsoon season in July and August. So you guessed it, that's the time of highest humidity, making the swamp coolers the least efficient during part of the hottest time of the year.  A nice quote from the linked site:

   "They only get 7-8 inches a rain a year, unfortunately it all falls in about 45 minutes".



Which is better? 

As you can see above, both have their pros and cons. In the places I looked at to rent, one has "refrigerated air" and two have swamp coolers. 

Being frugal, I'd prefer the swamp coolers. I'm told that where I might pay up to $200 for a month's worth of "refrigerated air," I'd likely pay less than half that with a swamp cooler. 

The trick is if the owners properly maintain the swamp coolers, as they do require more maintenance than air conditioners. But maintenance for a swamp cooler is sort of like cleaning out the gutters or getting an oil change - somewhat tedious, but not expensive like it can be for an air conditioner. 

So, my first culture lesson as new New Mexican. Swamp coolers.