Have Water, Will Travel

or

Where will you travel to on your summer hols?

I’ve always thought that I’m pretty knowledgeable when it comes to general knowledge.  Especially travel knowledge. I already have what I call my water cooler list (‘bucket list’ is so 7 years ago).

I do have a ferpectly good reason for calling it my water cooler list. Here’s why – when I’m hanging about said water cooler, I always get to hear snippets about who’s been where; what it was like – you know, the usual gathering of the masses type confab. So, we got to talking about the destination.

HOD Mrs Furthingstoke’s dream (achieved) was the coast of Cornwall.

Bike messenger Mr Oogle stated that anywhere along the Tour de France route would be his idyll.

Mrs Tibbins said spelunking in Lechuguilla Cave in New Mexico, in the States, whereupon I choked on my hot drink and Mr Oogle almost swallowed his tongue.

Meeker than the proverbial mouse IT person, Tad, just glared at us, so I’d imagine his water cooler to travel to list is more in line with the worlds of something like the Child of Light PS3 game.

So inspired was I about all this info, I went and tripped the Google fantastic, seeking those – perhaps lesser known? – but still magical destinations and immediately decided that my knowledge is sorely lacking.

Meteora Rock (pictured above) – These massive sandstone fingers seem to emerge as much from a dream as from the plains of Thessaly.  Towering as high as 2,044 feet above the lush landscape below, the steep peaks of Meteora are a perfect setting for a secluded monastery.

Monks and nuns have called Meteora’s peaks and caverns home for centuries. Hermits scaled the daunting peaks as early as the 10th century and, according to legend, St. Athanasios Meteorites rode an eagle to the top in the 1300’s to found Great Meteoron, the largest of the region’s six secluded monasteries.

 This on my list.

The Crack of SilfraTravel to Iceland and you’ll find a most curious occurrence on the boundaries of the North American and European plates.

Adjacent to Lake Thingvalla, you’ll find Silfra Crack. Filled with crystal-clear, glacial meltwater, this narrow slit plunges 66 feet into the Earth. It makes for a rather chilly descent, but sight-seeking divers make the pilgrimage each year to dive between the continents. Experienced cave divers can explore depths of more than 148 feet by swimming into the Silfra cave system.

Visitors frequently describe the Silfra diving experience as one of floating weightlessly through space. The glacial waters filter through miles of volcanic rock before emptying into the crack.

This not on my list. All very beautiful and amazing and stuff – but a tad claustrophobic for me.

The Reflecting Desert (pictured above right) Just consider the Bolivian Uyuni Salt Flats, or Salar de Uyuni, a 4,000-square-mile plane of what appear to be hexagonal tiles. This extraordinary high-altitude landscape stretches among the snow-peaked Andean mountains, and if you happen to visit during the rainy season, you’re in for quite a sight.

When the rains sweep down onto the Uyuni Salt Flats, the entire expanse becomes an immense reflecting pool. The water on the salt flats never reaches a depth of more than 15 centimetres, so it offers visitors the unique sensation of walking on the surface of a mirror — all amid a desolate silence.

The unique landmark is actually the remnant of a prehistoric lake and currently ranks as the largest salt flat in the world.

This on my list.

When I returned to the water cooler to share my finds, It seemed like I’d fallen into an episode of Dr. Who: –

… ‘We’ve no water in the water coolers’, says Tad, ‘so everybody’s most likely dehydrated’.

‘What?’ splutters HOD Mrs Furthingstoke, ‘what does that have to do with everyone not performing at their peak? Pure poppycock, I’m sure!’…

*sigh* Guess my water cooler list is my water cooler list.

 

Water and Trees – Part III

In Part III (Part II of Part II) here’s a further 5 trees indigenous to Britain.

This first tree, is very dear to my heart as I have a cousin named Rowan. Funnily enough, the sub-heading of the tree and his personality are not that far apart – he’s a complete maverick (to the point where our nickname for him is Banana Man – a story I won’t be detailing in here – sorry Cuz).

Rowan, Sorbus aucuparia

  • A tough tree that dares to grow where others cannot

This used to be planted outside houses to ward off witches, which makes me wonder if it would be bad form to plant it near a willow tree (see below).  That aside, you might like to plant one simply because it’s a lovely tree with bright red berries. It can even survive on high and exposed ground.

Silver birch, Betula pendula

  • This quicksilver tree grows fast and has amazing shiny bark

If you want to make a quick impression on your garden, try this fast-growing pioneer species with its slightly shiny silvery-white trunk. Its timber is used to smoke haddocks, among other things, and its trunk can be tapped for sap that can be made
into wine.  Knew there was a reason I liked birch trees.

Small-leaved lime, Tilia cordata

  • No, not that the crucial ingredient of a good margarita type of lime

Although you won’t get green lime fruits from this tree, it is one of our most beautiful native species. You can eat the leaves in salads, and brew a pleasant, uplifting tea from the flowers.

Willow, Salix sp.

  • Fast-growing and so many to choose from – weeping, goat, twisted, even cricket bat

These graceful trees survive in the dampest of places, so will suit a water-logged or riverside garden. They also have their fair share of folklore – the words ‘witch’ and ‘wicked’ come from the same word as ‘willow’.

And last, but not least, the other Christmas tree, the:

Holly, Ilex aquifolium

  • A festive treat to cheer up your winter

You’ll love harvesting holly from your own garden at Christmas, and the birds will love you for providing shelter and a plentiful source of food in the berries. There’s nothing like seeing the red berries and the shiny, spiky leaves of holly to brighten a dark, cold winter’s day.

Anyhow, that’s my update on all things British and tree-like for now.

In case you were wondering, the stand-off at the office water cooler continues. Things are turning nasty. Mrs Fitzsimmons has taken to instructing an underling to replenish her water, so as not to have to engage with me + the ropes are made from hemp, so one of the IT guys is becoming far too fresh.

*Excerpts from 10 British trees to grow in your garden.

Eat and Hydrate at your desk – yay or nay? – Part II

Last week in Part I, we were all about bad nutrition and productivity and skipping lunch. This week, the debate continues with mentions of the (for some) dreaded broccoli, superfoods and eating well at work.

Two journalists battled it out; one had spent time working in France, where lunch was always taken away from one’s desk. The other said that she would far rather power through her lunch break and have her sandwich at her desk as it would give her more time after work to spend with her family.

It would seem that having lunch away from your desk is the way to go, according to studies at the University of California. Taking the time out of your work environment gives your brain a breather and allows your brain to ‘power up’ and go back to work refreshed and ready for the next haul. Sitting at your desk doesn’t allow for that brain refresh. I’d say it’s similar to power napping, which I do and believe it works. (That’s a whole other topic for another blog).

Superfoods

*In the nineties, it was all about organic food. Then along came the concept of “superfoods,” a term used to describe foods that are supposedly really, really good for you. But it turned out to be more of a re-branding exercise for otherwise fairly mundane supermarket produce, like berries.  And if you ask a scientist, the term superfood actually means something completely different. It’s used in academia to refer to calorie-dense food, like chocolate (aha!).

Broccoli

Apparently, the little green forest trees (as I like to call them), have been shown to help the immune system to clean harmful bacteria from the lungs. A compound found in the vegetable is now being trialled as a treatment for people with lung disease.

To ensure that the lungs function correctly, white blood cells called macrophages remove debris and bacteria that can build up in the lungs and cause infection.

**This cleaning system is defective in smokers and people with chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD) – a combination of emphysema and bronchitis – who suffer from frequent infections.

Now, researchers have figured out that a chemical pathway in the lungs called NRF2, involved in macrophage activation, is wiped out by smoking. They also found that sulphoraphane, a plant chemical that is made by broccoli, cauliflower and other cruciferous vegetables when damaged, such as when chewed, can restore this pathway. 

A brief aside here – I’m not lauding cauliflower because people have been raving about ‘delicious, creamy’ cauliflower mash that you make in place of mashed potato. Problem is I don’t have a blender, so I tried to hand mash the cauliflower. Let’s just say that cauliflower will not be darkening my door again, for some time.

Eating well

When surveyed by researchers from Nottingham University, staff at the UK’s National Health Service said they felt they had a responsibility to set an example for healthy eating at work. But the American Journal of Public Health found that for healthy eating habits at work to take any effect, workers’ families also had to get on board. What people eat at work is linked to their overall lifestyles and attitudes to nutrition.

I must say I do like the can-do attitude of the people at the NHS. Overall, I think it is important, as your working day takes up a lot of your hours awake (bar those power naps), to make sure that the powers-that-be in your work environment focus on your well-being too. Is there a water cooler? A water boiler? A hot drinks dispenser? Are there kitchen facilities at your workplace? Some type of eating station?

If not, perhaps you should squeak up and point out to said powers the clear benefits between nutrition and productivity.

*Excerpts from an article in Quartz.

**Excerpts from an article in the New Scientist

 

 

The Watery Fern Moss

As I think we’ve pretty much established by now, I’ve a wide range of things that fascinate me, and a lot of my fascination has to do with Mum Nature. I specify la Mama Nature, and don’t just say nature, because nature can mean how organisms and beings (like us for example) behave. This is not that nature. This is MAMA Nature.

Take moss, for example. No, I did NOT say Kate Moss, I said …! Oh well, never mind – moving swiftly along. I always laugh about moss because of a particular slang expression that was popular in our ‘hood was using the word ‘mos’ after a statement. e.g. ‘He only drinks PG Tips, mos’.

Some factual intro info: –

Moss grows in cool, moist places, often forming dense, velvety masses of vegetation. Individual plants as well as the masses are called moss. Mosses are related to liverworts and hornworts.

About 14,000 species of mosses occur throughout the world, from the Polar Regions to the tropics. Most species live on shady ground, on rock ledges, or on tree trunks. (Moss clumps are most common on the side of the tree that gets the most shade and moisture, often the north side.) A number of species live in rivers and ponds. Moss plants do not grow in saltwater.

The moss plant is hardy. During a dry spell it turns brown or black, and looks dead; but it becomes green again as soon as rain falls. The mosses are among the first plants to establish themselves on rocky ground. They slowly break down the rock, preparing the way for more highly developed plants. Moss plants absorb many times their weight in moisture; they soak up rainfall on hillsides, helping to prevent erosion. The soil-building and moisture-conserving work of the mosses is indirectly of great importance to humans. The only type of moss of direct use to humans is the bog moss, or sphagnum. It forms peat, a fuel, and peat moss, a garden mulch and soil conditioner. Dried sphagnum is used as packing material in shipping plants. Thinking of peat moss and how water filters through peat which can then form the basis for many a fine ‘usquebaugh’ (water of life) single malt whiskies and it’s no wonder that I should love all things moss-like.

Moss is pretty incredible as even if it lays dormant and dried out for decades, sufficient water enables it to spring back to life – quite miraculous in my opinion.

Some examples of types of moss:

Fern Moss (that’s me, that is!) grows on wet ground or tree trunks or in flowing water. It has sprawling branches that resemble fern sprays.

Pincushion Moss, a very tiny plant, forms a cushion at the base of trees in damp woods.

Silvery Bryum is common in pavement cracks and on dry compact ground. It has silvery shoots and dark green leaves.

Tree Moss is an erect plant forming dark-green clumps in woods and swamps. It is six inches (15 cm) tall and looks like a miniature tree.

Water Moss lives beneath the surface of streams and ponds. Its long, slender branches are covered with scaly, brownish-green leaves.

I recently read a novel, ‘The Signature of All Things’ by Elizabeth Gilbert. The novel follows the fortunes of Alma Whittaker (the daughter of a bold and charismatic botanical explorer) as she comes into her own within the world of plants and science. The description of Alma’s journey studying moss captured my imagination beyond belief and brought a new found respect for this incredibly ‘simple’ organism that is such a vital part of Nature.

Respek the moss, mos!

 

 

The Moany at the Water Cooler and British Summer Festivals

I’ve been a bit moany this past week.  Seems like everyone’s gearing up for their summer hols, ‘cept me, I’m off as far as my desk; so I’ve been draping myself dramatically over the water cooler and sticking my lower lip out, but nobody’s paid a blind bit of notice, so you can be assured that things are going to rapidly downhill from here.

In full sulk at my desk, I searched (and sulked), searched (and sulked) and apart from the very famous and rather glorious Trooping of the Colour on 14 June this year (that has been a tradition in one form or another since around the 1700’s); I wondered what other festivals Britons celebrate in summer and established that Midsummer seems to be quite a big, fat hairy deal in some regions.

Midsummer has long been a time when myth and reality converge, when deities dance in woodlands and fiery festivities mark the advent of Midsummer’s Day.  Primarily a European tradition, different countries have their own unique and often colourful take on this festival.

While the Summer Solstice falls on June 21st, celebrations often occur on Midsummer’s Day (June 24th) – the solstice during Roman times and considered the middle of summertime.  Midsummer’s Eve (June 23) has long been connected to magical beings such as fairies (popularised in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream), while stone circles are said to come alive with ancient folk who melt away into the dawn of Midsummer’s Day.  Originally a pagan holiday, Christianity labelled June 24th as the feast of John the Baptist. The resulting celebrations are often an odd cocktail of Christianity and paganism, dedicated to John through the use of very pre-Christian rites and imagery.

Midsummer Carnivals, Ireland

Many towns and cities in Ireland have Midsummer Carnivals with fairs, concerts and fireworks.  Festivities are usually held on Midsummer’s Day or the nearest weekend.  In rural places, bonfires are occasionally lit on hilltops, similar to Cornwall.  This tradition has its roots in pagan times, with traditional offerings traditionally made in County Limerick to deities connected to Midsummer, like Áine.

Golowan, Cornwall, England

Traditional Midsummer bonfires still burn on high hills in Cornwall, such as Carn Brea and Castle an Dinas, St. Columb Major. The Old Cornwall Society revived the tradition in the early 20th century. Bonfires in Cornwall were once common as part of Golowan, now celebrated at Penzance. The week-long festival normally starts on the Friday nearest St John’s Day, and culminates in Mazey Day – a revival of the Feast of St John (Gol-Jowan) with fireworks and bonfires.

Chester Midsummer Watch Festival, England

Midsummer’s Eve in Britain has commonly been a time of fairies and other outlandish beings. But other midsummer festivities – even those based on biblical events, such as the Chester Mystery Plays – were unpopular with the Reformed establishment due to their roots in Catholicism, and were duly banned.  The Chester Midsummer Watch Parade, beginning in 1498, was held every Summer Solstice when the mystery plays were not performed.  Key characters in the parade included giants and unicorns, which was banned with costumes destroyed by 1675.  Today though, the plays are back, and have enjoyed a healthy rejuvenation.

I’ve hatched a cunning plan. I’m going to build a bonfire around the water coolers in the office, hire a fairy costume and prance around between all the water coolers on 24 June all by my toddlesome – one fairy can a Midsummer make in my opinion!

Clever Water

Photographer ~Jim Wilson/The New York Times

“Who’s a clever water then? Aw, go on, who’s a clever water then?’’

I haven’t gone barmy, (I think my level of barmy has long since been established), I’m referring to this little marvel:

‘*A lemon tree springs from the soil in Jason Aramburu’s backyard in Berkeley, California, alongside rose bushes, birds of paradise, strawberry plants and squash blossoms. The garden is thriving, but its upkeep requires almost no effort from Mr. Aramburu. Instead, a foot-high soil sensor does much of the work.

The plastic-and-stainless-steel device, topped by a tiny solar panel, determines the amount of water to be delivered to the garden each day, using Mr. Aramburu’s Wi-Fi network to communicate with a valve attached to his irrigation system. If the air is humid, or if rain is forecast, the valve limits or cuts off the supply. If the soil lacks nutrients, Mr. Aramburu receives an alert on a smartphone app telling him to add fertiliser. And it doesn’t hurt that the sensor initially analysed the clay-filled dirt of his yard and recommended which plants would thrive there.

The soil sensor and the water valve are Mr. Aramburu’s creations; he will soon begin selling them through his new company, Edyn. But his plan for his business goes beyond enabling people with upscale private gardens to cultivate things like exotic kale and heirloom beets. He also intends to sell sensors to farmers in developing nations at a low cost to help them grow food more efficiently and sustainably.’

Good on you, Mr Aramburu! Although I don’t mean to sound insensitive, never mind developing nations, his little sensor is something that could very much help my gardening efforts. Despite my best intentions (upending a packet of seeds into planters and hoping for the best), the most my poor garden has produced has been some monstrous dill (which prompted me to suddenly start making kosher dill pickles as it’s the only thing I could remember that needs dill); two rather alien looking peppers which sadly expired on the plant and some rather furry, low growing, to date unidentifiable veggie / herb that looks quite pretty but never produced anything vaguely edible looking.

I am, without question, a failure, when it comes to all things garden. See, that’s why inventions like those of Mr Aramburu are so necessary. No more over / under watering of said poor struggle plants from me. Come harvesting season, I’ll have a crop of healthy, happy, well fed veggies the like of which my garden has never seen.

*Excerpts from an article in the New York Times