Dancing wildflowers

In the uplands just east of the bog, there are about three and a half acres of native grasses punctuated with some 200 species of wildflowers. Each year, it is a surprise as to which flowers will emerge and which will stay dormant for another season. I don’t know enough about botany to name many of them; I do know that their blooms are smiles on the landscape.

About eight miles west northwest of the bog (as the proverbial crow flies), is another stand of smiles. The Tree of Life Cultural Arts Studio (www.treeoflifestudio.org) sits just north of downtown Chelsea and is a tapestry for the senses. Its proprietors, Jenabah and Sundance, offer lessons in dance and drumming, Thai massage and other healing arts, entertainment and community gatherings, internationally sourced merchandise, and they make a mean fruit smoothie!

Their Friday drum jams are a happy cacophony for the soul. Sundance leads a circle of drummers in West African sourced rhythms that offer such primitive sophistication that even to my untrained ear, I nearly trance in appreciation. Jenabah, other instructors, and students will dance to these rhythms with a wild abandon and subtle grace that I wish I had words to describe.

Can you tell I’m a little enamored?

Tonight, I was among 20 devotees of the Center who gathered to discuss the future of their performance troupe: Tree of Life Drum and Dance Society (TLDDS). The Society’s performance art is shared at festivals, schools, senior homes, recovery centers, and a further miscellany of venues. Also, each year, a cabaret of sorts is held where the instructors and students share their craft for the local community. Dubbed their “Showcase,” this event is a mixture of exposition, community outreach, and good old fashioned recital for family and friends.

The Showcase loses a bunch of money for the Center – part of the reason we gathered. The idea is to separate the TLDDS from the Center and create a non-profit. This would, our thinking expects, allow the troupe lower rental fees at performance venues, grant seeking opportunities and healthful collaborations. Our theory continues that the troupe could extend its outreach to school systems, senior centers, homeless centers, prisons – to any audience who can’t afford performance art.

Now, no illusions, this may very well be a tall order. What I do like, however, is the approach: let’s connect potential benefactors with skilled artisans for the benefit of the community. The artisans realize that support is not entitled, but must be inspired.

I again must admit ignorance: I certainly don’t know enough about dance and drumming to tell you why their efforts are of such quality, but I happily attest so.  One other thing I do know: their passions are genuine and their goals are earnest.

Feelin' blue

Auburn came back in the final minutes to defeat Utah State in both’s opening game of the 2011 college football season. The key was a perfectly executed onside kick that allowed Auburn to keep the ball after a score brought them back from the brink of losing.

I really didn’t have a dog in that fight and, as such, I backed the underdog. Not sure why, but that is my natural tendency while watching sports. There is something gratifying when a upset occurs – hearing the proverbial thud as Goliath topples. Of course, this doesn’t happen all that often (acknowledging the collective sighs of bookies across the nation) and I’ll find myself at least momentarily blue at the end of the contest.

Where I am happily blue (notice the clever literary transition?) is when it is spelled with a capital “B” as in GO BLUE! I am a proud partisan for the University of Michigan.

The ultimate Maize and Blue!

The mighty (we hope this year) Wolverines have just kicked off to Western Michigan University’s Broncos who have taken it fifteen plays down field for a score.

Funny how when the underdog bests your team, it is more than a little disheartening – think Appalachian State’s upset of Michigan in 2007.

Why do sports evoke such emotion? Why are there more than 100,000 people packed into Michigan Stadium on a day with soaring temperatures? It is both amazing and inspiring to see the passions of fans for their teams. Win or lose the fans stay true – think of another Michigan team: the Detroit Lions.

Despite a 0-16 season two years ago, Ford Field still hosts large crowds and hope springs again and again. I mean, c'mon, it only takes a couple of shocks and a rat learns not to press the red lever!

What is this resilience? I can’t think of anyone I know who has abandoned his or her team on a permanent basis. Sure, you do hear boos and jeers but the fans keep coming back. There is a lesson here somewhere.

If only we had such persistent belief in ourselves, and the ability to forgive ourselves when we fumble or meet an insurmountable opponent, little could stop us. Something to ponder.

Oh, and Michigan received the kickoff and marched down the field to tie the game – feeling a little more hopeful!

UPDATE:  After severe thunderstorms caused the officials to "call" the game, Michigan is declared the winner 34-10 with just over a minute remaining in the 3rd quarter - first ever called game in Michigan football history.

SECOND UPDATE:  University of South Florida Bulls!  Way to go underdog!

Duck, duck, duck, goose!

There is a rather loud hen mallard protesting something on the upper pond.

In the mid-1970s, a gentleman named Woody Haley helped establish a chapter of Ducks Unlimited in Monroe, Michigan. Ducks Unlimited (DU) is a waterfowl conservation organization founded in the 1930s in response to the threat to migrating waterfowl populations by the “Great Dust Bowl” drought. In their history, they’ve conserved over 12 million acres throughout North America. Their revenue comes from government grants, personal donations, membership dues, and fundraising events. I worked for the organization for nearly eight years – first in Memphis, TN then in Ann Arbor, MI.

Woody owned a home furnishing store in Monroe and I went to work for him in 1975 – dusting furniture in the showroom, uncrating deliveries from manufacturers, helping with home deliveries, then later installing drapes, blinds, and other window treatments. It was a great job through high school and I became close with the entire Haley family (in fact, Woody’s grandson spent a good portion of the summer living here as it was closer to his summer internship).

As the annual DU fundraising dinners approached, I’d often open the packages of auction items delivered to the store. Marvelous wildlife inspired items including framed art prints, ornately engraved firearms, specialty knives, and various species of duck decoys were my introduction to DU.

Years later – while in undergrad – I came to discover that a friend’s father, Bob Ryland, carved duck decoys. His studio, like Bob, was modest. I remember that his eyes would light up as he described the process of taking discarded telephone poles and turning them into both working decoys (ones that could actually float in a pond to lure birds) and decorative decoys (ones made for display). Bob and his wife Judy were active in various decoy collector and carver groups and I got to attend a couple of these gatherings in Westlake, OH. I’ve included some pictures of decoys Bob carved that I now treasure.

These two men helped ignite my passions that eventually spawned Blackdog Bog. I became enamored with the idea of duck hunting when I was young through Woody’s stories and accompanying him to his marsh. Bob introduced me a community of men and women who tied their passion for duck hunting with their aesthetic. A series of other life events and good friends got me into the blind and eventually introduced me to the leadership of DU – less than 3 months later, I was working for them.

It was a great run – I was part of the major gifts team as well as involved with licensing and corporate partnerships. We hunted some remarkable marshes from California to Arkansas and I got to meet some very successful, passionate men and women.

It was relocating from Memphis to Ann Arbor that led to purchasing the farm and discovering later that a portion of it may qualify for the easement program described in an earlier post.

Every time I hear a hen fussing or a watch skein of geese splash into one of the ponds, Woody and Bob come to mind. Each has passed away. I do know, however, that their memory lives in many of us.