I admit it. I’m drawn to decaying structures. A building in disrepair stirs my emotions. Tells me story. Compels me to ask questions.
Courting croakers
Last month we had chorus frogs. This month we have courting frogs. These two croakers were too distracted by each other to care about me and my camera lens peering down at them from an arm’s length away at the edge of a pond.
At the intersection of nature and mass transit
On a recent weekday morning, I used an audio recorder to capture the sound of a woodpecker in my backyard. Listening to the recording, I heard the bird steadfastly boring into a nearby pine tree, but I also picked up a multitude of other sounds — a Metra train heading into Chicago, a jet flying to or from O’Hare, cars making their way up and down Highway 43, a barking dog, chirping birds, a creature of some kind scampering across my deck. It quickly became evident to me why my wife and I typically wake up at 5:30 each morning. The combination of nature and mass transit does not make for good slumber. It does, however, make for an aurally rich way to start the day.
So it goes … to the Kurt Vonnegut Memorial Library
I’d been holding on to my grandparents’ old manual typewriter for 10-plus years, regarding it as a cherished if no longer functional possession. As a writer, I valued its purpose. And as a sentimental fool, I appreciated its connection not just to my beloved grandmother and grandfather but also to a time of fewer distractions and more focused, carefully considered communication.
The Kurt Vonnegut Memorial Library recently posted on its Facebook page that it was looking for a 1960s-era Smith-Corona manual typewriter, preferably a blue one, to use in an exhibit. Reading the post, and in spite of my fondness for that old Cougar XL, I knew it was time to say goodbye to my grandparents’ typewriter. I never used it; the powder-blue beauty sat in a dark corner of my attic. Without question, it would be better off as a centerpiece in an exhibit celebrating the work of Kurt Vonnegut.
Before shipping the typewriter to the library, I positioned it in a bathtub and took this photo. I’m sad to see it go, but I’m thankful it will assist in telling the story of a great American author.
Kankakee Sands
I’m quite familiar with the 100-mile stretch of Highway 41 between Chicago and Attica. I’ve traveled the route countless times over the course of my life, using it to escape the sprawl of suburbia and enjoy the solitude of my family’s Indiana farm. But only recently did I discover Kankakee Sands, a 7,800-acre expanse of restored prairie — owned and managed by The Nature Conservancy — bordering Highway 41 in Morocco, IN.
Yesterday, while returning home from a trip to Indianapolis, I made a quick stop at Kankakee Sands to capture a few photos in a field of wildflowers. Unfortunately, a howling wind made it challenging to capture crisp images.
I know. Excuses, excuses. Nonetheless, I’ll be sure to bring my monopod the next time I head down Highway 41.
Planes, Trains, and Outrageous Property Taxes
Planes, Trains, and Automobiles is one of my all-time favorite comedies, so my interest was piqued when I learned that a home featured prominently in the film had gone on the market. The house — owned on screen by advertising exec Neil Page, played by Steve Martin — can be yours for the sizable sum of $1.79 million. You’ll also need to come up with $25K/year to cover the property taxes.
Frankly, for any home priced north of $500K, I’d expect a fresh coat of blacktop on the driveway. But, as always in real estate, it’s a matter of location, location, location. The home sits two blocks from Lake Michigan in the tony hamlet of Kenilworth, ranked by Forbes as America’s second most affluent neighborhood.
For Sale: 2012 Bookstore of the Year
A month after being named Bookstore of the Year by Publishers Weekly, The Book Stall at Chestnut Court announced that it’s up for sale. The news is a blow to Chicago’s literary community, as the indie bookseller sponsors more than 400 in-store and offsite events each year.
Yesterday I showed some support for the The Book Stall by stopping by to purchase Nell Freudenberger’s latest effort. I rarely buy books at brick-and-mortar stores these days, and when I do — paying full price plus sales tax — it feels, I’m embarrassed to admit, like an act of altruism. Of course, in 2012 the truly altruistic act is not buying a book, it’s buying a bookstore.
Openlands
Prairie grass, cattails, and a cluster of trees photographed at Openlands Lakeshore Preserve, a meticulously restored ravine and bluff ecosystem 25 miles north of Chicago in Fort Sheridan, IL. Trees dot the edge of the preserve’s ravine, which along its eastern edge plunges sharply to the Lake Michigan shoreline.
