Going Daffy For Ophelia

A while back, Ophelia mentioned she wants more daffodils. I live to serve.

Seward Park Daffodils I

I’m sorry to admit that daffodils aren’t my favorite. I was half-fascinated by them as a child. They were large and definite and presented opportunities for examining stamens and stigmas and other bits of a flower (I always loved how sticky the stigma felt). I was one of those children who used to wait for the daffodils to bloom just so I could pull them apart and see how how all the bits worked. But I liked the tulips better. They smelled nicer, and they weren’t yellow. Yellow and I aren’t the best of friends.

Also, the leaves are a bit boring.

Still. They’re an emblem of spring. And lots of people like them. Perhaps a poem will elicit some feelings of wonder and appreciation.

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Going Daffy For Ophelia
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She'll Make It a Country For Women

This is still kinda secret, because magic buttons haven’t been pressed in order to make her appear on the front page, but Taslima Nasreen has joined us, and she’s come out of the gate roaring. I’ll admit that I read her first post at work. I very nearly told the person who called in while I was in the middle of it to hold a minute while I finished, or at least let me read her post aloud to them so we could finish it together.

I feel like reading the whole thing to you, but you’re old and wise enough to go read it yourself. I’ll just give you a taste:

A recurrent question that is often raised claims that I have hurt religious sentiments of people. Feminism has long opposed religion; whoever has even the slightest knowledge of women’s rights knows this. Religion is patriarchal through and through. I shall follow a religion and I shall acknowledge women’s rights – this stance is akin to saying I shall drink poison along with honey. Whenever religion-motivated abuse of women has been challenged in order to wrest women’s rights, immediately the slogan “Religious sentiments must not be hurt” has been raised by those that are anti-democracy, anti-free speech, and opposed to women’s freedom. I, however, don’t refer to any kind of barbarism as culture.

Hells to the fucking yes! I wish she’d been writing when I was in college. I wish I’d had these words, from someone who is there, to give to the well-meaning folks who were all about the respecting other cultures and not judging because that’s like totes imperialistic. I think my Women’s Studies teacher might have got it. Quite a few of the rest of them might have, too. Respecting different ways of living is all lovely, and diverse cultures welcome, but respect for those differences does not and should never extend to shrugging off oppression and violence by saying, “Well, it’s their culture, and we’re wrong to judge.” I wish I’d understood that back in my early twenties.

Thanks to amazing and courageous people like Taslima, I’m starting to get it.

So go read her post.

And maybe also this interview, in which so much territory is covered that I can’t really sum it up, but includes this bit on exile that has haunted me since I read it:

People ask why I don’t stay in Europe. In India, I am in a familiar place. (Points to a tree outside the window) I know the trees; I have grown up watching the same trees in Bangladesh. People won’t understand this… For someone who has lost her home, it means a lot. That’s why I feel at home in Kolkata.

With Taslima Nasreen, FtB has just leapt a megaparsec forward in awesomeness.

She'll Make It a Country For Women

Mystery Flora: The Fruits of Seward Park

The way the weather’s going, I’m never going to get decent pictures of the local fruit trees in Bothell. Between the wind and the rain, they’ll be all decrepit before it stops pouring long enough to shoot them. But Seward Park had some nice ones in bloom, and the weather wasn’t hideous, so we’ve got at least a little something.

I don’t know if these are all the same type of tree or different. So I’m just going to throw everything I’ve got at you and see what we’ve got.

First up: a tree near the art center.

Mystery Tree I

I’m actually fairly impressed by its size, considering it’s growing on what amounts to a small cliff.

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Mystery Flora: The Fruits of Seward Park

Unidentified Flying Dinosaur: Spinners

This is your chance to identify not just a bird, but a behavior.

When we visited Lake Abert with Lockwood in August of 2011, we found these little dudes by the water’s edge, just spinning round.

You’d think they’d get dizzy, but apparently, they didn’t. Weirdest thing I’ve ever seen birds do, and they did it the whole time we were there.

I was, of course, mostly paying attention to the geology (and butterflies), but I got a few bird shots. I know there’s seagulls, but I’m not sure what else we’ve got here.

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Unidentified Flying Dinosaur: Spinners

Subscribing to Rosetta Stones, Mark II: Email (Hopefully)

This should be the magic link that will take you to the beautiful land of unicorns and rainbows and the possibility of subscribing to Rosetta Stones by email:

Subscribe to Rosetta Stones by Email

There’ll be an official SciAm way to do it someday, but for now, Feedburner it is.

I’ve also put up a Suggestion Box. So far, there’s only one new suggestion rattling round in it. Want moar! If you have trouble commenting there, you can drop your suggestions in here. Ditto with any issues you’re experiencing: if there’s anything not working properly, let me know about it. I want you to be happy! Rainbows, unicorns, etc.

Substantial content will be along shortly.

 

Subscribing to Rosetta Stones, Mark II: Email (Hopefully)

The Answer to the "Why Do You Study Rocks?" Question

I love it when I don’t have to answer such questions. Southern Geologist took care of it. I’m not going to attempt an excerpt. Just go read it. It’s funny, and it’s true. And now I have a place to send people when they ask me a variant on the “Why would anyone want to study rocks?” question.

People are often stymied when they discover my geology obsession. And you should really see the looks on their faces when I whip out some little brown rock and start burbling about how beautiful it is. They look at it, and what they see is a small, plain, brown, boring bit of rock. They see the kind of thing they’d flick out of their garden, or kick into a gutter, without a second thought.

Their faces change when I tell them the story that little brown rock tells.

Continue reading “The Answer to the "Why Do You Study Rocks?" Question”

The Answer to the "Why Do You Study Rocks?" Question

My Most Important Geology Teacher

Everyone I’ve learned geology from has been “the most important” in some respect. But when Simon Wellings at Metageologist offered up this theme for Accretionary Wedge #44, one name sprang to the head of the line: Lockwood DeWitt.

It began with gabbro.

Until then, Lockwood had been one of the many amazing folks in the geoblogosphere who’d been giving me support and encouragement. Then he tweeted about some leftover gabbro from a counter installation at a Corvallis restaurant. I asked him to save me some. Then, instead of him mailing it, we decided I’d come down and pick it up. We’d go out and look at some of the local geology whilst I was there. “How neat,” I thought. “I get to see some stuff with an actual geologist.”

Marys Peak Pillow Basalts. Image Credit: Cujo359

That trip pretty much changed everything. I’d been doing this all on my own, picking up what I could from books and blogs and nuggets of wisdom from folks in the geoblogosphere, but none of that can do what getting out on the rocks with someone who knows them can do. And Lockwood isn’t in to this “Look at that feature, isn’t that great?” sort of geological sightseeing. He wouldn’t tell me what we were seeing. He’d give me a few hints and wait for me to painfully piece some of it together before he’d tell me what we were looking at. I’d been out of school for well over a decade, I was a complete amateur at geology, and here was this dude who looked a little like Santa Claus giving me bags of gorgeous geology and expecting me to figure it out.

Inspecting features in the basalt, Cape Perpetua. Image Credit: Cujo359.

I saw my first slickensides, some of the greatest pillow basalts in the universe, actual gabbro in the wild, tide pools threaded with dikes, and Devils Churn. I saw flesh-eating plants. I saw dunes. I saw more than you could imagine a person could in two days, and learned more than I realized. Moments from that trip pop up all the time, as I recognize a feature and put it together with something Lockwood showed me.

I often wished, when I got home, that I’d had some way to record everything he said. So I bought a digital recorder for the second trip we took, a several-day extravaganza through the Oregon interior. This was the trip where I saw Crater Lake for the first time, learned about lineaments, found faults, enormous fault scarps, and the greatest rhyolite outcrop in the universe.

Lockwood at the world's greatest rhyolite outcrop.

This is the trip where I learned to look more closely at seemingly-boring brown desert rocks, because you never knew what might be hiding:

Lockwood demonstrating why this is the most awesome rhyolite outcrop in the universe.

I’d had no idea until then that rhyolite could do such things.

And what about eruptions under Pleistocene lakes? Yeah, we had that covered, too.

Lockwood at Fort Rock.

That’s not just a tuff ring, mind. It’s also got wave-cut platforms, and the place is lousy with old shorelines. Which, because of Lockwood, I can now spot at 60 mph. We’ve done a lot of geology at x-mph.

Being out with Lockwood challenges my brain and my car. We took that Honda Civic of mine all the way up to the top of Paulina Peak. This may not sound impressive until you realize it’s a one-lane road that’s washboard and practically vertical in places. But we made it, and from there, we could see a huge variety of volcanism.

Lockwood atop Paulina Peak

We’re on top of a shield volcano, with stratovolcanoes in the background, and the whole place is littered with cindercones. (If I ever move to Oregon, I want to move to Bend. It’s like coming home. And it has got a cindercone right in the middle of town.)

After that trip, even without listening to the recordings, I realized I’d picked up far more than I’d realized. When I’m out with Lockwood, it’s like drinking from a firehose. I feel like I’m not learning a damned thing, it’s all going by so fast. Then, a month or two later, I run across some concept he’d taught me, things go click, and once again I’m thanking the internets Lockwood and I ran across each other.

Lockwood at Beverly Beach, pointing out concretions in the Astoria Formation.

Our most recent trip through the central-southern Oregon coast and inland through the Coast Range was just the two of us – I left my poor intrepid companion home. And it’s another of those trips where I’m boggled by the sheer amount of stuff I learned without realizing. It’s got to the point now where I can sometimes contribute an intelligent bit to the conversation. I recognized some fine slickensides all by me lonesome. That, I have to tell you, was a moment of bliss. All of you who’ve ever studied the sciences know that feeling, the one that comes when you can show your teacher that you’re really getting this stuff.

Lockwood pointing out some sweet cross-bedding at Oregon Dunes.

I’ve already talked about the strike-and-dip revelation. That’s the kind of thing Lockwood does: points me to features, lets me guess at the answer, then demonstrates how to solve the puzzle. It’s okay to make mistakes in his presence. Like the best teachers, he doesn’t make me feel like an idiot for getting things wrong. He just shows me how to get them right. And he’s taught me it’s okay to say, “I don’t know.” Nobody knows it all. We can admit that, and work to fill in the gaps.

He’s brought me to the point where I’m comfortable playing the geological host me own self. A lot of what I recognized at Seward Park this last time came from him. And who knows what’ll happen after this next trip we’ve got in the works: a wild ride through the Josephine Ophiolite in California and then back up through Quartzville in Oregon. If I ever do go back for a formal degree, one of the reasons it won’t be hellaciously difficult is because I’ll be saying, “Oh, I saw something like that with Lockwood” about every three minutes.

Lockwood demonstrating strike and dip at Sunset Bay, Oregon.

It’s not just me. There’s a considerable contingent of the geoblogosphere that relies on him. He’s one of the most knowledgeable folks around, and always willing to share that knowledge. Drop by Corvallis, and he’ll be more than happy to take you round the local delights. Talk to one of the Northwest geobloggers, and you’ll hear his name come up with a reverence usually reserved for scientists like Carl Sagan or Stephen J. Gould. We loves us our Lockwood.

I owe him more than he’ll ever admit to. One of the main reasons I felt comfortable writing for Scientific American was because I’d learned from him, and I know he’ll be there to answer questions. Jim Bennett got me started on this whole geology addiction. Lockwood’s brought it to a whole new level. I can’t wait to see what he teaches me next!

My Most Important Geology Teacher

Subscribing to Rosetta Stones

My darlings, you have made today awesome beyond belief. Thank you for the kind words and enormous show of support! You constantly amaze me. I love you dearly, and I hope you never ever forget that.

A few of you have been having difficulties subscribing to Rosetta Stones. Cujo already popped the answer into comments on the previous post, but I figured I’d best get this up here so everybody can see it. Click here for the feed. Or, if you want to do it the not-very-hard-but-a-wee-bit-harder-way:

How to Subscribe

Just click the little orange dealie beside the blog title. Et voilà!

I’ll also be posting to Twitter, Facebook and G+, as well as here. You’re probably going to be sick of me shouting, “Hey, look, a link to Rosetta Stones!” before too long.

They need to install a “Dude, I know, shaddup about it now” filter on social media…

Subscribing to Rosetta Stones

Visit Rosetta Stones, My New Scientific American Blog

At long last, I can reveal my super-sekrit project: I’ve become a part of the Scientific American blog network. Notice it’s no longer April Fool’s Day, the pony avatar is down, and you can click over to see Rosetta Stones. This is real, my darlings.

Rosetta Stones on Scientific American screenshot

I have got a lot of words, but I haven’t got the proper ones for telling you what an honor it is to be representing my beloved geology on Scientific American.

When Bora asked me if I’d be interested in doing this about a month ago, I had to read the message several times before I could believe what it said. Of all the things I expected when I began ETEV, this wasn’t one of them. It never would have happened without my friends in the geoblogosphere, especially Anne Jefferson and Chris Rowan. Wouldn’t have had a chance without PZ Myers, who got me started on this whole science blogging gig to begin with. Never a possibility without Stephanie Zvan, who pitched me for FreethoughtBlogs and told me to get the fuck over my impostor syndrome, and my fellow FreethoughtBloggers, who decided to take a chance on bringing me in.

And I can tell you for a fact that even with all of them, there would be no Rosetta Stones on the Scientific American blog network if it hadn’t been for you.

Yes, you. Don’t sit there looking so humble. You read my posts, you comment, you put in requests, and you are the reason for everything I do. I blog for you. No you, no blog, no possibility I’d ever join the amazing lineups at FtB and Scientific American.

Thank you. I owe you a drink; don’t let me forget next time we meet in meatspace.

The thought may have flittered through your mind: What about ETEV? Well, it’s not going anywhere. It won’t even change too much. Rosetta Stones is a fantastic chance to bring geology to a wider audience, and I’m going to love every moment I spend there (with you, right?), but this is home. This is where we do our UFDs and Mystery Flora and songs and road trips and whatever else catches our fancy, and I love being part of this amazing network of unapologetic atheists, and even though it’s not grammatically-correct Spanish, I love En Tequila Es Verdad. Our cantina isn’t closing. It’s just that we have a posh new spot to spend a day or two every week at, with new people to meet, and new things to see and do.

Go have a look round the new place. Not all the furniture’s in yet, but it’ll get there. Let me know if you have questions, suggestions, or requests for topics. Let’s make this fantastic. Together.

(Rosetta Stones is launching during my bedtime, so I’ve pre-scheduled this post. If the link doesn’t work, try again in a bit – it may go live later than we anticipated.)

Visit Rosetta Stones, My New Scientific American Blog

Cornwell, Dawkins and Faircloth in Seattle

Well, Bellevue, anyway. Close enough.

I want to thank you, my darlings. I have no idea how many of you made it – I only ran in to one of you (hello!), but the crowd was astounding. I got there just after two, and atheists had filled a very large high school. We can haz horde! Next time there’s an event like this, I’m going to have to have t-shirts or something so we can find each other. Who wants to design an ETEV viking ship logo?

The reason I’d like to do this is because while it’s awesome to see folks like Cornwell and Dawkins and Faircloth, it’s far more awesome meeting you. I love my readers. I love seeing my readers. I love hearing you talk about yourselves (not me, please, I talk about me enough). So I just want to put that up front: I can’t wait to meet more of you.

And I’m thrilled we packed that gym with atheists. Lots of diverse atheists: younger, older, men and women, transgender and cis, LGBQ and straight, and it wasn’t a sea of lily white. The faces in that crowd could trace their ancestry all over the world. Greta’s right: we’re making progress.

I also got to preach the good news of the Kindle Fire to a very wonderful couple. Hee.

So, those of you who weren’t there probably want to know what went on. You’ll know all about it soon enough – the whole event was recorded. I’ll post it here when it’s live. For now, we’ll do some photos and highlights.

Continue reading “Cornwell, Dawkins and Faircloth in Seattle”

Cornwell, Dawkins and Faircloth in Seattle