Pennies

"It is dire poverty indeed when a man is so malnourished and fatigued that he won't stoop to pick up a penny. But if you cultivate a healthy poverty and simplicity, so that finding a penny will literally make your day, then, since the world is in fact planted in pennies, you will have with your poverty bought a life-time of days."

- Annie Dillard

Phytoplankton!

so after a long conversation with the ever wandering and ever loved christopher rubadue today, this is what he had to say to me:

"allison, i went to an aquarium today.

and more than once i said:

'i don't know what the heck that cool thing is, but i bet allison mcclain would.'"

and it made me happy.

a) to know that i am perhaps in my friends' thoughts as much as they are in mine
and
b) that strange sea creatures make people think of me.

so in honor of all of my ohioans that i miss so dearly, here are some of the cool things in aquariums you can't see that i also happen to love (and research) a lot:










aren't they AWESOME.

the phytoplankton taxonomist in my lab, sherry, gets to spend her days identifying and compiling databases of these things - in addition to rocking out to irish folk music with me of course.

so, if you so desire you can see more right here : )

enjoy!

It's Been a Strange Day

I thought about driving past the old house today and decided against it. Decided against it for the lack of people inside, the absence of the ivy that used to cover the lawn and bay window, the knowledge that I would never again enter and smell the must of old cloth or homemade spaghetti sauce again, never fish in the tiny pond in the backyard for frogs.

The old house I speak of is my Nana’s – or was my Nana’s before she grew too ill to live in it alone just a few years ago. I thought to drive by because I dreamt about her last night. Or perhaps I dreamt about her because I knew I would be driving through her old neighborhood today. Or maybe I’m trying to tell myself something.

I’m not quite sure.

But thinking about it brought back memories of all the Christmas Eves, crab feasts, and Redskins games spent gathered with family, crowded on plaid couches with my aunts and uncles or under dining room tables coloring with my cousins.

Made me think of sifting through trunks of antiques and clusters of memories, sitting crouched on the floor with my mom wiping dust off old photographs and tools, talking about her life as a child and the insignificance she sometimes felt. Talking until the shadows cast from the windowpanes grew long across the wooden floors.

Made me think about the water colors hanging in the downstairs foyer, the graceful lines stroked by a grandfather I never knew, stroked as he sat confined, dying of emphysema some thirty years ago.

My grandfather was in my dream last night too.

I saw he and Nana share a sideward glance at a soda shop in 1938, saw them stroking sandy feet at the beach summer of 1940 on their honeymoon, just a year before Pearl Harbor. But it was my Nana envisioning these things in my dream – not really me. I was just a spectator, somehow granted the honor of sharing in her nostalgia as she lay dying on a hospital bed in an empty, sterile room. She slept fitfully with a vague smile at her lips, dying not at all like she really did - sitting in her chair in nursing home, eyes closed gently with her head laid back to sleep, never to awake again.

She was happy in her dream – she and my grandfather Harvey. And as she dreamt she wondered, wondered what things would have been like had things stayed this way. What it would have been like had the war not sent things so awry. Had she not fallen in love with Ray, a boy she’d known since childhood, a man who'd married another only to find himself forever at Nana’s side – dying just two weeks before she in the nursing home room next door.

And I sometimes wonder too. Wonder what my grandfather would have been like - if I would have had the chance to meet him. If he would have cared more for my mother. And I wonder how my mom would be different. How I would be different.

But as it is I sit staring beyond my computer at a desk half covered with tales of thwarted love, Nana’s Bronte collection - mostly various copies of Emily’s Wuthering Heights.

And I sit thinking of Catherine and Heathcliff, my Nana and Ray. Sit thinking of the stories of the people surrounding all of them.

I’ve been sitting a while.



And I really don’t know how this story should end.

Frog Moth Crab Snake Bees

So I walked into my bathroom this morning - all groggy eyed and bed-headed as usual at 6:30 in the morning - and perched upon my toilet seat of all places was a tree frog. Not some little cute thing that crawled up out of the drain or made it upstairs perched on the laces of my shoe. But a HUGE freaking tree frog. I would love to know how he got there.

Later today a moth, pretty little specked thing, float down and died in a pan I was using for some of my samples at work. Lame right?

Last week I was pulling samples from an instrument I had submerged off a dock in the Rhodes River and this feisty little - actually he wasn't little at all - blue crab was hanging off the clasp that holds the rope to the hose I need to pull out of the water. Yea. So much for that clasp.

I almost crashed my bike trying to avoid running over a garden snake on the B&A trail on Friday.

My genius friend decided to poke a stick into the opening of a ground bee hive when we went climbing yesterday. They stung.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I'm sorry not so little Tree Frog for displacing you from your home - however I managed to do it. But don't worry, the lake out back has lots of friends for you.

Die where you find comfort Moth. I will place you outside where you can decompose and come back as some pretty geranium or spring beauty or whatever meets your fancy.

I'm sorry Blue Crab. I didn't mean to temporarily add what seems to you as more junk to the bay. I'm trying to help - promise. And in the meantime I'll keep pulling your babies out of my anchor knots so they can grow up too.

I'm sorry if I squished your tail Snake. But I'm guessing you're ok; when I rushed back to check on you you had already slithered away.

And I apologize for my friend dear Bees. You stung the wrong person - but I don't blame you for trying.


Wow.
Yup - I am tired.
Tired enough to write all that.
And actually publish it.

Actually - I blame it on Aaron Weiss and his talking vegetables and barnyard animals.

But I do love my critters.

So take care of them ya'll. You're in their space more than they're in yours.

Trained Monkey

I've essentially come to the conclusion that my internship...which for those of you who may not know mainly concerns the daily activities of algae in the Chesapeake Bay...is comprised of 3 main ingredients: one part brain, one part manual labor, and one part trained monkey.

For those hours spent as trained monkey I've carefully composed perhaps one of the most perfect play-lists developed by man. And by perfect I mean this ever unchanging sequence of songs may actually endure the remainder of summer before its rich rhythm morphs into a predictable and listless noise. However, keep in mind that this definition of perfect is indeed coming from the mouth of a girl who will tell you the daily activities of Chesapeake algae are thrilling.

So, for those of you who trust my judgment regardless, enjoy.
For the rest of you - algae really is as remarkable as I make it out to be...

really...


Sidewalk Stairs - Yonder Mountain String Brothers
Your Rocky Spine - Great Lake Swimmers
Bottom of the Lake - The Builders and the Butchers
You're a Wolf - Sea Wolf
Boy With a Coin - Iron & Wine
The King Beetle on a Coconut Estate - MeWithoutYou
Wash Away - Matt Costa
Reprise - Grizzly Bear
To Be Alone With You - Sufjan Stevens
Upward over the Mountain - Iron & Wine
The Girl - City and Color
The Dress Looks Nice on You - Sufjan Stevens
Coconut Skins - Damien Rice
Four Winds - Bright Eyes
Strawberry Swing - Coldplay
Every Thought a Thought of You - MeWithoutYou

Turbo smaragdus

Turbo smaragdus -

The curious and quirky name for an equally curious and quirky species of snail I studied in New Zealand.

It’s also the name of the creature from which a ring of mine is made; a smooth cream gem of carbonate laid in silver with a hint of green swirling in its center.

This green swirl, also called a koru, is symbolic throughout the South Pacific of the simple ideal of harmony, of living in peace and unity. Originally noticed by the Maori in the unfurling fronds of a young fern, this symbol is pervasive through all of nature – laid subtly within the curl of a conch shell, kinetic in the eddy of a stream, or cloaked pensively in the coil of a millipede.

As one who started her investigation of science and the environment on the basis of pure curiosity, I am pleased to say I have found much more than an appeased appetite for knowledge through my inquiries. It has indeed become an intimate and important part of my amble though a life desiring unity with our Creator. I see more of Him in nature every day.

The example of this koru, this emblem of shalom, is but a small example of the reflection creation bears on our God. The infinite complexities of the ecological relationships found in a seemingly simple streambed or the molecular workings of a single algal cell are both testimonies to the incomprehensible greatness of our God. What perfect relationship must be found in the Triune to be able to reflect such harmonic intricacies in nature!

And so I join the mantras of David, Saint Francis, the current Aaron Weiss and subsequent lovers alike –

“What a beautiful God there must be!”