Situations like the oil spill in the gulf tend to leave us deflated and discouraged.  It’s good, therefore, to be reminded that amid the rubble that we have created in God’s world, he occasionally shows us that there is (still) beauty and wonder when we can shout “Stop!” and look. This post from our friend Donn Ring is a perfect counterpoint to the last one on praying over the oil spill.  Enjoy, and spend some time pondering his fantastic photography.  Then get yourself *outside* today and look for some wonders yourself!

A few weeks ago we heard rumors of wild flowers in bloom on the south side of the Superstition Mountains east-northeast of Phoenix. We hopped in Dennis’ Honda Element “Pudge” and charged up the road from Arizona City. Once spring temperatures heat up, desert flower displays can be very short lived. We must move!

We left behind all our Taoist Wu Wei philosophy of moving naturally and contemplatively along the energy contours and flow of the topography (what we unceremoniously call “dinking”), and blasted down wide highways that had been blasted straight and level through rolling deserts framed by ghostly slag heaps and bare naked tailings of recent mines shut down. We were aggressive voyagers in the mode of Nietzsche’s Will to Power to possess our particular currency of beauty no matter what.

(It amazes me in my many years of wandering the sanctuaries of religion that zealots in the pursuit of the most intimate, profound and beautiful insights can shove and bully and legislate and condemn and destroy, leaving ugly slag heaps of bitter history as witness to their rape of truth meant to liberate. One of the greatest Taoist sayings is found in the ignored Beatitudes of Jesus: “Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the Earth.” We were not meek this morning. — Excuse this brief diversion to scratch an itch).

As we barreled up the road at 75mph (120kph) a flash of brilliant red caught the corner of my eye. I yelled at Dennis, “STOP!” Dennis did his best to pull Pudge over onto the gravel shoulder while semis rumbled up our tail and roared by. A few other cars, pickups and trucks flipped their greetings at us. He backed up slowly along the gravel strip. The car rocked with the air compression wake of every thundering truck.

Here, isolated, next to this racetrack highway, growing out of a pile of rubble in a ditch collecting scattered debris was a most brilliant Firecracker Penstemon (pentsemon eatonii) in full bloom. Dennis pulled Pudge further off the road and we unloaded our cameras. This was the only Firecracker Penstemon we saw on this trip. But as we nestled down with macro lenses to get our close-up photos we were dive bombed.

A female Anna’s Hummingbird (calypte anna) did not take kindly to our intrusion of her feeding spot. She whizzed around us, stopping, backing up in mid air, buzzing this way and that, her iridescent green back flashing in the desert sunshine. She was sizing up the danger of these strange interlopers, finally whirring up to the top of the gully and sitting on a pile of dead branches and waiting for us to leave.

(Hummingbirds are the only bird that can make such maneuvers. Their variable wing attitudes can beat as high as 90 times per second; they have been clocked flying 60mph in spurts, their heart rate pumping up to a 1000 beats a minute. Their metabolic rate is so rapid that daily they must consume their body weight in nectar. Without a source of rich nectar they are only hours away from starvation. No wonder she was disturbed at our visit. We could see no other flowers in sight. At night, to conserve energy, they go into a hibernation-like state with their heart rate extremely reduced.)

Dennis and I decided to sit absolutely still and become part of the landscape and gain her trust. The cacophony of noise from the highway echoing in this bulldozed gully with a carpet of tossed fast-food wrappers didn’t lend itself to bucolic nature watching. With some caution she approached the penstemon, ignored our motionless hulks and then with determined necessity began feeding close to us. So delicate and agile was her dance from blossom to blossom — truly a winged ballet among the rubble. We were blessed by this island drama of beauty-in-the-wasteland that forced us to stop cold in our thoughtless rush.

About a month ago we posted a story on frogs quoting a video segment from Planet Earth that I use in my seminars in which we are told “I think we’re facing the loss of half the world’s frogs.”

Had some pushback on that one from people who are struggling with the balance between people and nature.  In this equation, frogs are kind of like insects – it might be nice to keep them around, but what’s really the big deal if we lose them?  This week’s report on endangered primates – our closest natural cousins and the cutest things in the jungle – is more bad news and its hard to think of any excuse for not being upset about this:

Of the world’s 634 primate species, 48 percent are threatened with extinction, according to the report, issued by the International Union for Conservation of Nature. The Switzerland-based group calls itself the world’s oldest global environmental organization.

“This report makes for very alarming reading,” said Christoph Schwitzer, an adviser to the group, in a statement. “Support and action to help save these species is vital if we are to avoid losing these wonderful animals forever.”

A handful of primate species count populations in the dozens. For example, there are just 60 to 70 Asian monkeys known as golden headed langurs, found only on an island in Vietnam’s Gulf of Tonkin.

There are fewer than 100 remaining northern sportive lemurs, which live in Madagascar, and around 110 eastern black crested gibbons, found in northeastern Vietnam. [CNN]

Not recommended for bedtime reading, but important none-the-less is the IUCN’s Red List of all endangered species.

So here’s the latest:  Habbakuk became a pupa over the weekend (see picture).  Next step, mature Moth-dom.  Stay tuned.

Another guest post from Donn Ring.  Who knew water drops had so much to teach us?  [previous post by Donn is here.]

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I have often attended 2 martini or chardonnay social hours where mature folk chat about their recent global treks to visit the wonders of civilization — pyramids, temples, castles, palaces, fortresses, cathedrals, chateaus, museums, mausoleums, formal gardens. Monuments of Man. All very impressive and fascinating.

“Oh — Donn, have you seen the Crown Jewels in the Tower of London? Ahh — but then there is the Antwerp World Diamond Centre in Belgium. Have you been there? Stunning! And how about Paris’ Les Arts Decoratif with it’s fascinating display of fashion jewelry?”

Now, I’m not opposed to such light-hearted swapping of travel tales. It’s fun. I’ve done it, and still do it. Perhaps it helps settle the hors d’oeuvres of bacon wrapped shrimp, stuffed mushrooms, pepper jack cheese, melon balls and skewered satay chicken dipped in fermented anchovy peanut sauce before the introduced politician with Cheshire grin tells us how glad they are to be invited and we are such wonderful people.

But sometimes I get the itch to reply: “yes, yes…the Crown Jewels…amazing…and, oh! those diamonds. Yes…splendid! I was in London and Antwerp in ‘82. Did the tour. Got to the Louvre but had no idea about Les Arts Decoratif. However, have you ever seen the fabulous JOL jewels? They are miles better and classier than anything I’ve seen in London or Antwerp.”

“Really! I’ve never heard of them. JOLs? I’m surprised. I thought I’d seen the best displays in the world of monarchs, princesses, sheiks, movie stars, mistresses — you name it. What are they? JOLs? Where are they? Do you know of a good tour company that can take me there?”

“Well…it requires special preparation. You’ve got to have the right etiquette and dress properly.”

“I’m up for it. If need be I’ve got a tuxedo, top hat, white gloves and spit-n-polish black shoes. And my Honey has a great formal strapless evening gown that can elegantly show off her necklace.”

“Chuck those. This requires bare feet in an old pair of flip-flops, some worn gardening duds, a billed cap, and a rain jacket…but no umbrella.

“WHAT?! I can’t enter a world class museum like that. They’ll throw me out. Now to what airport do I go to jet to these so called fabulous JOL jewels? Or are you pulling my leg?!”

“Absolutely not. Actually the great museum of JOL jewels is out your back door on a rainy day. Get down on your knees with the old magnifying glass you haven’t used since Junior High School when you tried to make paper burn with sunlight and begin looking at the grasses and weeds — yes, as troubling as it might seem, out of control weeds are some of the best collecting places for JOL jewels. What you will see are very rare jewels in the solar system — liquid drops of water — the essential for life. That’s why I call them JOLs. Jewels of LIFE. Let me show you some I photographed last week in our back yard.

If the value of gems is generally in direct proportion to their rarity, then liquid fresh water is one of the rarest commodities in the solar system. The operative, defining term here is “liquid.”

Using highly sensitive spectrometers, astronomers tell us there is evidence of water in many parts of the solar system, in planets, moons and comets. But almost all of it is bound up as ice, along with carbon dioxide and carbon monoxide ice. The one exception might be Jupiter’s moon Europa. It is covered with highly fractured ice like a jumble of icebergs torn apart and shoved together. This is caused by Jupiter’s strong gravitational pull that creates massive distorting tides of ice on Europa. But they noticed that the magnetic fields of Europa changes fairly frequently. Using magnetometers scientists also suggest that the heating friction of Jupiter’s tidal pull on the surface ice has left an ocean of slush or liquid salt water under the frozen surface that gives this moon its highly conductive electrical character.

But it is this rarity — liquid water — one of the essential foundations of the rich biodiversity on this tiny planet in the vastness of space that we need to treasure. All of life depends on it. Quality human life cannot exist without it.

And it is this gift of life-sustaining water that will become more precious than all the crown jewels and fashion decor together as the world’s population grows from 7 billion to 10 billion in the next generation (when my father was born in 1906 there was one and a half billion). Then if we extrapolate out to the late 21st century on to the 22nd and 23rd….mind boggling. How we begin to manage our use, our waste, our pollutants today can set an example for huge future needs, or else, with our neglect, lend itself to massive global trauma of apocalyptic proportions.

Seeing the JOL jewels is a pilgrimage we all need to make.

It will cost you nothing to look. But our life depends on it. The whole biome of the Earth depends on it. In this light, all the diamonds in Antwerp are worthless. Let’s become tourists of Life. It is far more fascinating than Versailles.

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It is my pleasure to announce the newest addition to my household: Habakkuk, the caterpillar. Yes, indeed I did just say that a caterpillar has taken up residence in my house.

Why? would be a very good question at this point. And the answer is, for the pure joy of watching this life form develop and morph through the course of it’s life cycle. I acquired him from the entomology lab at school, after a lab session where we had the opportunity to observe several stages of the life cycle of this particular species (egg all the way to moth). I am hoping to make some what of a photo journal of Habakkuk’s life, which will only extend for 2 and a half months or so. But at this point he is a little too small to get an adequate picture for your viewing. So we’ll just have to deal with words until a clear picture can be had.

Habakkuk is a Tobacco Hornworm, named for two very good reasons. He eats tobacco and has a horn on his back. People are really creative at naming things, I know. The species is Manduca Sexta, if you want to look it up. Here is a simple break down of Manduca’s life cycle:

Eggs hatch out itty bitty caterpillars. We’re talking no more than a few millimeters in width and maybe half a centimeter in length. The caterpillar, which is the larva of the adult moth, will remain as such for about a month and a half before it pupates. During this stage, it will molt (shed it’s skin) about 4 times, causing 5 instars total (the final instar being about 4 inches long and a centimeter or more in diameter). An instar is basically a way of saying how many stages the larva goes through before becoming an adult insect. These five instars have one job only: to EAT. And eat they do. Constantly. Eat and poop. But hey, if you were growing at the rate that they do, you would too. We’re talking increasing your body mass by 400 times in less than two months. That takes a lot of energy. What’s crazy about it is that caterpillars are born with as many cells as they’re ever going to have. That means that instead of having cells divide to make more body mass, their cells just get bigger and BIGGER. After the caterpillar reaches the fifth instar, it will make a little nest and pupate (turn into a cocoon). It takes about 2 weeks to turn caterpillar to moth, and when it does, the moth will be about 4 inches in wingspan, and GORGEOUS.

When I got Habakkuk on Thursday, he was pretty freshly out of the egg. Measuring in at less than a centimeter in length, he looked like a chunk of green angel hair pasta. Since then (~6 days ago), he has molted once, and grown significantly. He’s pushing 2cms long, and definitely eats at least twice his body weight every day. These caterpillars are quite the brilliant shade of green, and as they grow, they get white stripes that look like a line of Vs down their backs. When Habakkuk hatched, he was green and pretty transparent. Now, his stripes are starting to form and he’s more of an opaque green.

Call me a dork, but I get really excited to watch him every day. It’s pretty amazing how this green stringy thing is alive and growing. For something that doesn’t really have much of a brain, he knows what his purpose is: to eat and grow and turn into something beautiful. I can’t wait to upload pictures because, this creature is UNBELIEVABLE. God was pretty darned creative when He put this world together.

Stay tuned for updates on Habakkuk’s status!

I ‘ve had several opportunities this summer to enjoy some quiet moments on porches.  Not too long ago, I sampled my brother – -in-law’s porch in Bethesda, Maryland, not far from Washington DC.  The day was just right – not too hot, not cold, not very humid.  The porch furniture was just right – lovely couches that allowed me to sit up or lie back,  tall glass of sweet-tea close to the elbow.  The surround-sound soundtrack gave me birds, lawnmowers, airplanes, and an occasional car wandering down the street on the outdoor channel, while the murmur of voices reminded me of family members busy at various tasks inside the house.  Light patterns shifted with alternating clouds and sun, punctuated by an occasional summer rain shower that left almost as soon as it came.

It was a perfect place and a perfect time for reading – and I made the most of it.

This experience started me thinking about porches.  What a wonderful feature in a house – not terribly expensive, I don’t think – and I am wondering why most ‘modern’ homes have given up this bridge between house and street, between home and neighborhood, between family and friends.   You see, a porch is different from a deck.  The porch is usually on the front of the house, rather than the back.  Having the roof extended over it, the porch is part of the house, while your normal deck is part of the yard.  As such – as a part of the house that is open to the world, the porch has a unique role to play.  The porch offers a secure perch from which to view – and experience – the world.  You can taste the weather, without getting wet in the rain.  You can hear the birds.  You can enjoy the sunshine, sitting in the shade of the roof.  You can be touched by nature – no, not in the sense of being immersed in it on a canoe trip to a wilderness area, but by having your senses exposed to God’s world even as you go about your ordinary human activities – reading, enjoying that glass of sweet-tea, thinking about life.  And seen from the street, a porch is a welcoming platform – a place to which you can come and be sheltered from the elements while you make your presence known to the family inside.

The porch is for me a symbol of what we need to do to bring human activity and culture back into contact with God’s creation.  You don’t give up anything to have a porch except for a few dollars extra when the house was built – but look at what you gain.  All the sounds, smells and experiences of nature mingled with the comfort and security of ‘civilisation’.  Looking at the porch as a symbol, there are other examples in our world:  A paved bike trail is an example of a “porch”:  It offers secure, healthy, rapid transport but it’s close to nature.  A couple of days ago I took one of our local bike trails out into the countryside – a five mile ride that took me through a couple of wetlands, past numerous cornfields, under a major highway (twice), through a two mile long tunnel of trees and past a small downtown commercial area.  Just like the porch, the bike trail gave me both nature and civilisation.  The construction of the trail would have done some damage to creation, but little compared to the nearby highway.  Using it does nothing to harm the environment and actually does a great deal to bring health to my somewhat overweight and under-utilized body.  A farmer’s market is another example.  A concert in the park.  A restaurant that serves tables outdoors (‘al fresco’).

So… let’s build more porches – and then grab that glass of iced tea, and go read a book!

I went for a walk in Middle Wood to welcome the month of July. This Middle Wood is a special place, but visited by few.

In the montane forests of the wilderness West there are the magnificent old growth giants of the lower valleys and the lofty sub-alpine groves that cluster among the broken mountain meadows that descend from spectacular alpine and tundra heights. Most everyone adores the bottomlands with their crystalline cascading rivers, or the pungent copses of weather twisted fir on the high slopes. However, at about the 4000′ (1219 meter) level in the Olympic Wilderness there are transition forests, a rat-tangle of fir and hemlock of smaller size, but still larger than sub-alpine trees — a forest beset by heavy snows and bruising storms that scatter splintered blow-down, and tangled in undergrowth shrubs of ash and mountain azalea and rangy huckleberry. Because of the unbroken density of this forest the heavy snows linger long in their shade, sometimes as late as July. In Spring, to walk through this forest is a nightmare — irregular crusty snow covered with debris and obscuring a thousand booby traps in the hidden blow-down beneath. But that nightmare holds another secret of such startling wonder that every year I must return to witness its fleeting splendor that lasts only 10 days.

The lingering snow of this forest acts as a reservoir, and is close enough in climate and altitude to the spectacular lily displays of the alpine meadows, that Avalanche Lily bulbs and seeds have sloughed downward, populating the highest part of this transitional forest. The snow burden melts in late June or early July, and immediately a lily garden of delicate flowers blooms in such profusion it overwhelms the visual senses. It only lasts a short time, so it is important to monitor weather and snow melt if one wants to see it. This year we hit it dead on.

If you stretch out the picture [above] (taken July 1) for about a mile you can perhaps imagine the overwhelming abundance of delicacy lacing its way through the jungle ruggedness of this storm battered forest — a million, no, two, maybe three, who can count? – these nodding heads of light, so easily crushed, carpeting this battle zone of life that few tourists regard as a destination.

I left the small gravel road that gave me access to the Middle Wood and tried strolling through this profuse wonder. Impossible! I was at a loss. There was no place to put my feet because of the sheer density of fragile beauty. I dared not shove on carelessly. So I found a place where I could straddle a fallen tree trunk and observe the lilies close up at their level with my macro-lens.

There are unplanned delights of tourist-beauty and bliss in chancing upon such a grand profusion. I am a fan of such serendipity. We chalk it up in fragile memory before we hustle on, hoping for some other chance postcard event in life’s limited itinerary. But there are deeper beauties to be perpetually discovered in engaged particularity, a contemplative surrender to the pregnant moment and place. At times it can only be experienced when we intentionally and perhaps ruthlessly halt our frenetic and alien ego journeys that drive us to get somewhere or accomplish some thing. We must drop to our knees or prostrate ourselves or sit in the presence, in stillness, and without preconditions open our being to see and touch and know intimately —  and in that knowing, being known. This is a vulnerable place of close encounter, face to face, essence to essence, being to being, a transformational embrace. It can be frightening for the modern programmed ego to open…and open without the hovering tyranny of prescribed schedules or destinations or benchmarks of material achievement. But once we have begun to receive and understand at this nexus of quiet transparency, however embryonic that mutual knowing, the Whole – yes — the WHOLE begins to grow greater and more integrated in our inner awareness. This is more than a passing event, however pretty. It is fraught with multiple connections and interdependencies and revelations. Thus, we are transformed from a tourist mode of being, careening through life in a perverse maze of imputed and hollow expectations, stumbling upon the occasional unattached postcard moment for our mental scrapbook. We breech the restraining and separating walls and are translated into a profound reality that we are accepted participants in a community and communion of Life that inspires sacramental care and celebration.

Even as a novice, there are grace filled moments when I can find no place to move my feet. Yet…

[Update: The robin watch is over.  Duties called us away for four days, and in that time, all three chicks up and flew away.  Bad timing - but the nest remains for use - next year?]

It’s getting a bit more difficult to follow our daily robin hatchling updates, so we’re changing the strategy a bit.  One post, that we will update with an additional picture or two every day.  We’ll keep the latest picture on top to make it easier to keep track of.

Comments are welcome… !

[Latest Update Day 8, 5/29/2009]

Day 8:

The nest is looking a bit crowded – and we’re definitely not candidates for a beauty pageant yet.  ”So ugly they’re cute” is one way to put it, I suppose.

Day 7:

Eyes are open now…

Day 6:

Finally got a picture of one of those mouths wide open!

Day 5

Five-day old hatchlings are now clearly showing signs of feathers growing in.  They have about filled the nest, meaning they are perhaps three or four times the body mass they were when they hatched less than a week ago.  Their two parents – I can’t tell who is Mom and who is Dad – have pretty much a full time job going back and forth to feed them.  However, I suppose because of our relatively cool weather right now (in the 50’s this morning) most of the time when I examine the nest they have heads buried under each other.

Today’s picture …

Day 3

Day 3 of the great Wisconsin Robin watch… we’re growing fast (compare the size of these hatchlings with yesterday’s post). [Picture date 5/24/2009 3:24 pm.]

Day 2

A third hatchling has joined the other two.  Picture as of 8:20 am May 23, 2009.  (What happens to the eggshells?  Any ornithologists out there?)

Day 1

Two of three baby robins have hatched, as of 1:20 pm on May 22.  (First post on this story is here.)

The Nest (the day before hatching begins):

Right outside my backdoor is a light fixture.  Hasn’t worked for a number of years, doesn’t seem to feel like a priority to fix it right now.  Just as well – a pair of robins have decided this is a great spot to raise their children.  Sheltered from the rain, relatively protected from predators.  The only real disadvantage seems to be these pesky humans who will keep coming in and out of the door below.

Anyway, watching these eggs turn into birds and fly away in more or less real time seems like a fun thing to break up the monotony of words for a while.  So here’s what the nest looks like on this date – May 19, 2009, at 9:45 am CDT.

Stay tuned!

A couple of the things our inquirer said:

I have to ask just what is “environmental sin”? If Jesus had wanted this to be our “ministry” wouldn’t He have stated it?  …Do you believe that we can do nothing to stop the “groaning” of creation which is under the curse of sin? …I can definitely see the need to couple the gospel with compassion but to couple it with saving a planet that God says will eventually be destroyed by Him seems…er impractical at best.

I responded as below.  Those of you who have read my book or heard me speak will recognize that this is essentially what I’ve been writing and preaching for at least the last 10 years or so…

Thank you for your interesting and thoughtful comments in response to our web material. It is clear that you spent some time on our website, and while I don’t have time for a lengthy reply, I do think you deserve the courtesy of at least a brief response…

It is true that Jesus did not himself address the issue of the ‘groaning creation’, certainly not as directly as Paul did in Romans 8. However, Christians in general take the entire Bible to be inspired and authoritative – certainly we do at Care of Creation – and a command from God is just that, whether from the words of Jesus, Paul or Jeremiah.

We base our case on a couple of easily understood points:

1)God clearly cares about his creation, and expects us to care for it. (This is what the “dominion passage” is Genesis 1 means)

2)God tends to get upset – very upset – when human beings abuse his creation.

Along these lines, a couple of Old Testament passages leap out:

Woe to those who join house to house,who add field to field,until there is no more room,and you are made to dwell alonein the midst of the land. (Isaiah 5:8)

I will lay your cities waste and will make your sanctuaries desolate, and I will not smell your pleasing aromas. 32And I myself will devastate the land, so that your enemies who settle in it shall be appalled at it. 33And I will scatter you among the nations, and I will unsheathe the sword after you, and your land shall be a desolation, and your cities shall be a waste. 34 “Then the land shall enjoy its Sabbaths as long as it lies desolate, while you are in your enemies’ land; then the land shall rest, and enjoy its Sabbaths. 35As long as it lies desolate it shall have rest, the rest that it did not have on your Sabbaths when you were dwelling in it. (Leviticus 26:31-34)

And a positively frightening New Testament one:
“We give thanks to you, Lord God Almighty,
who is and who was,
for you have taken your great power
and begun to reign.
18The nations raged,
but your wrath came,
and the time for the dead to be judged,
and for rewarding your servants, the prophets and saints,
and those who fear your name,
both small and great,
and for destroying the destroyers of the earth.” (Rev 11:18)

It is clear from these, as well as Romans 8, that God cares about what happens to his creation – even to the point of driving out his own people because they had refused to give the land the Sabbaths (rest) that God had commanded them. One hesitates to think what God might have in store for our generation whose wholesale destruction of creation is unparalleled in history.

3)It is also quite clear in Colossians 1 that God’s redemptive plan includes all of creation:

He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. 16For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities-all things were created through him and for him. 17And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together. 18And he is the head of the body, the church. He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, that in everything he might be preeminent. 19For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, 20and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross. (Col 1:15-20)

Simple principle of Biblical interpretation here: The ‘all things’ that Christ created in v. 16 has to be the same as the ‘all things’ that are reconciled in v. 20. Conclusion: Biblical redemption is more than human salvation – it extends to all of creation.

The conclusion is inescapable: If Jesus died to reconcile all of his creation to himself by his own blood, how dare we do less than our best to protect it, to care for it on his behalf?

There was more discussion on climate change but that need not detain us here…

Any additional thoughts?