April Foolishness

Back again on Easter Monday, April 5. Happy Easter to all.

On a day like today, and in fact today and no other day, I wake up and think, It’s April, fool. I could do that each day for the next 29 and still be right, but it’s not the same somehow.

Well below freezing this morning, but such temps won’t last. Not long ago I was pleased to see clover underfoot.

I’ve seen two (?) four-leaf clovers over the years. I can’t remember exactly. I know I spotted one in Nashville years ago. This source at least, claiming an empirical survey, says that one clover per 5,076 has four leaves, so it is a rarity. And five-leaf clovers are one in 24,390. Never seen one of those, or the one-in-312,500 six-leaf clover.

How is that most “clover-leaf” interchanges have four circular ramps, like the variety we aren’t likely to see? Shouldn’t we think of another name? Maybe Buckminster Fuller did. Quadrocircles or something.

A cell tower I saw last weekend near Jelke Creek Bird Sanctuary.

Why take a picture of something so pedestrian? It occurs to me that members of some future generation might quarrel about preserving some of the last standing cell towers as reminders of the 21st century. Most were long gone, having outlived their usefulness after everyone had those satellite-receiving transponders implanted behind their ears.

Also: more about governmental units from the Census Bureau. Jay once told me that Texas is fond of setting up specialized governmental districts, and so it seems.

“Texas ranks second among the states in number of local governments with 5,147 active as of June 30, 2012,” the bureau says. No townships — the Republic of Texas originally spurned such notions, perhaps, and maybe the state banned them in the 1876 constitution (everything’s in there) — but there are 2,600 special district governments.

Besides ordinary things like school districts and housing authorities, they include (and this isn’t a complete list) advanced transportation districts, coordinated county transportation authorities, county development districts, fire control and prevention and EMS districts, freight rail districts, fresh water supply districts, groundwater conservation districts, irrigation districts, levee improvement districts, local mental health authorities, intermunicipal commuter rail districts, multi-jurisdiction library districts, navigation districts, municipal power agencies, noxious weed control districts, rural rail transportation districts, rural and urban transportation districts, soil and water conservation districts, water improvement districts, sports and community venue districts, sports facility districts, and underground water conservation districts. What, no fire ant control districts?

Also: the Edwards Aquifer Authority, Palacios Seawall Commission, Riverbend Water Resources District, Ship Channel Security District, and the Upper Sabine Valley Solid Waste Management District.

Whew. To cross Texas is to cross a welter of districts. Who is number 1 in governmental units, if vast Texas is second? Illinois, with 6,936 as of June 30, 2012. What about the state with the least governmental units? I’d think it was Idaho or Vermont or Little Rhody, but no: Hawaii, with 21. Rhode Island is no. 49, with 133.

I understand that the Louvre has made all of its works available for viewing online, so the other day, I looked up “L’Arbre aux corbeaux,” by Caspar David Friedrich — “Krähenbaum” or “The Tree of Crows” (1822).

This is what I saw.

At Wikipedia, you can see this.

Both images unretouched. What’s up with that, Louvre?

From a press release that came my way recently: “Over the last few years, we’ve seen the rise of cleanfluencers from Mrs Hinch to Clean Mama. Like others, they’ve made the jump over to TikTok to provide us with their best tips and tricks, but how much could they potentially earn from their videos?”

Cleanfluencers? As usual, I’m behind the curve. As usual, I don’t give a damn. And of course, the reaction to this sort of nonsense isn’t new either.

Chestnut Park

According to Google Reviews, or at least one reviewer, Chestnut Park, which is part of the Hoffman Estates Park District, is a good place to fish. Nice to know, though I don’t plan on fishing there. The other day I stopped by for a look at the park. Why? Because I’ve been driving by it for years — nearly 18 years — and never had done so.

It’s a pleasant pocket park, surrounded by houses and probably put in by the subdivider 50-odd years ago, with the fishing pond as the central feature. Maybe we can detect the hand of Jack Hoffman himself in the configuration of the park, or least one of his draftsmen.
Chestnut Park, Hoffman Estates

Chestnut Park, Hoffman Estates

Note that the grass has turned green. That seems to happen overnight around this time of year, sometimes in early April, but this year in late March.

As I was leaving, I noticed a plaque on a rock. I’d never noticed that before, either. Chestnut Park, Hoffman Estates

Chestnut Park, Hoffman Estates

One of the large genre of sad plaques. It isn’t hard to learn what happened to Meghan. Not even 15 years old, she was killed crossing a major street near the park.

Not long afterward, the Illinois House passed a resolution honoring the girl, promising to build pedestrian overpasses at the major roads near Hoffman Estates High School, to prevent such a thing happening again. I drive by that location often, and I have to report that the Meghan Krueger Overpasses were never built here in chronically cash-starved Illinois.

Jelke Creek Bird Sanctuary

One thing leads to another, especially on the Internet, and yesterday I found myself curious about the township as a unit of government. That led to a document published by the Census Bureau, which tells me (p. 80) that there are 1,431 township governments in Illinois, at least as of 2012. There are townships in one form or another in 20 of the several states, and in Illinois, 85 of the state’s 102 counties have townships within their borders.

I looked into townships when I found out that Jelke Creek Bird Sanctuary is a township park, not part of the Forest Preserve District of Kane County. Specifically, the sanctuary is overseen by Dundee Township, which occupies almost 36 square miles in the northeast corner of Kane County.

Last weekend was another divided one, at least as far as the weather was concerned. Saturday was pleasant and warm, while Sunday proved blustery and chilly. So on Saturday we headed mostly west and took a walk at Jelke Creek Bird Sanctuary. We took a loop through the property that didn’t happen to pass by Jelke Creek, which is a tributary of the Fox River and, of course, ultimately the mighty Mississippi.
Jelke Creek Bird Sanctuary

Why there? I found it by one of my usual techniques: scanning Google Maps.

The sanctuary is fairly new as a public space. “This open space site was formerly owned by Chicago Elmhurst Stone and the Schuetz family,” the township explains. “The property was purchased as two separate parcels in 2000 and 2001 with grants from IDNR’s Open Lands Trust program at a cost of $4,128,709. The site’s 244 acres are partially protected by an IDNR easement.”

Saturday was a good day for a walk there. Summer would be less pleasant, since there isn’t a lot of shade along most of the trails.Jelke Creek Bird Sanctuary

Jelke Creek Bird Sanctuary

Jelke Creek Bird Sanctuary

There are some water features. Mid-sized and small ponds. A few spots along the trails were muddy, but mostly they were dry.Jelke Creek Bird Sanctuary Jelke Creek Bird Sanctuary

Not too many people were around, though at one point we did see four horses and riders. Not the Four Horsemen, fortunately.
Jelke Creek Bird Sanctuary
All together, we walked about a mile and a half, I’d say. The dog seemed to enjoy the walk too, including the opportunity to lap up a little muddy water. She wisely stayed clear of the horses.
Jelke Creek Bird Sanctuary
As for birds in the bird sanctuary, we heard some singing, but didn’t see more than a few sparrows and red-winged blackbirds. We passed by one small marshy spot and heard the croaking of frogs, which I took to be males in search of females for springtime action. As we got closer to the spot, the croaking tapered off. Maybe the frogs don’t like large animals eavesdropping on them. More likely, they’re as wary as small animals tend to be at the approach of something bigger.

Spring Valley Winter ’21

I don’t know Rep. Mike Gallagher (R.-Wis.), but I believe he had the spot-on quote for the day, which I heard on the radio this afternoon: “This is banana republic crap.”

Five months ago, the full flush of summer marked Spring Valley. Two days into the new year, the place was markedly brown and gray and white.Spring Valley Nature CenterWe had a pretty good walk anyway, especially since the paths were mostly clear of ice patches.
Spring Valley Nature CenterSnow and ice fell during the last days of December, and on New Year’s Day itself, but it was above freezing the next day, enough to melt some of the ice. Not much ice on the creek either, but I wouldn’t want to fall in.
Spring Valley Nature CenterThe unpaved trails offered the crunch of snow underfoot, a sound I like.
Spring Valley Nature CenterThe peony field.

Spring Valley Nature PreserveThe snow was wet enough to cling to most of the trees.Spring Valley Nature PreserveIt sifts from Leaden Sieves —
It powders all the Wood.
It fills with Alabaster Wool
The Wrinkles of the Road —

(Emily Dickinson)

Pratt’s Castle, Elgin

It’s becoming clear that my approach to travel — to finding things to see, anyway — has had two distinct phases. One is before I started using Google Maps, the other after I did, a phase that I expect to continue for the rest of my life.

Visiting Voyageur Landing (see yesterday) only counts as travel in the technical sense that we went to a place that isn’t home, or even in our neighborhood. Even so, it was a new destination and before we went, I scouted it on Google Maps.
Pratt’s Castle? I had to found out more about that, and I did.

“A man’s home may be his castle but when was the last time you actually saw a castle in a residential neighborhood?” says Historic Elgin. “Medieval history buff Harold S. Pratt built this imposing replica in 1937. His real home was nearby on Douglas Avenue.

“Pratt modeled the design on a castle he saw along the Rhine River while serving in World War I. This building was a private museum housing Pratt’s personal collection of medieval artifacts. The 50 foot tall tower is surrounded by a mini-moat and a working draw bridge.

“The castle is still in private ownership, although, [sic] Pratt’s collection is no longer here. So, please respect the privacy of those living here and stay on the bike path.”

More about the castle is here, but I haven’t found out much else about the fate of Pratt’s collection, probably because I haven’t bothered to contact the Elgin History Museum. Since we were planning to visit the nearby Voyageur Landing, I made a point of seeking out the castle as well. Google Maps at work, in other words.

First you go to Trout Park River’s Edge, which sure enough is at the river’s edge.
A trail leads both north and south from there, part of the lengthy Fox River Trail, formerly a railroad line (and the green line on the map above).
A ten-minute walk southward takes you to the castle.
Pratt's Castle, ElginStructure. It’s about as much of a castle as Mars Cheese Castle. Still, worth going (slightly) out of our way to see.

Thanksgiving ’20 &c.

Clear and cool lately, with daytime temps in the 50s. Not bad for late November. So far, no snow yet except for a dusting we had a few days before Halloween. It didn’t last. Next time, it probably will.
october snow
Pleasant Thanksgiving at home. Nothing made from scratch this year except the gravy, but the boxed macaroni and stuffing you can get at Trader Joe’s isn’t bad at all. And what’s a Thanksgiving dinner without olives, I tell my family. They aren’t persuaded.
Thanksgiving victuals
Took a walk last weekend at Fabbrini Park in Hoffman Estates.
Fabbrini Park
The geese were still around, mucking up the place.

The Garfield Park Fieldhouse

On October 24, as mentioned yesterday, we visited Lake County forest preserves. The next day, a Sunday, we went into the city, near Humboldt Park. Temps were around 50, but the park was alive with people, including a lot of dog walkers.

While Yuriko attended her cake class (just her and the sensei, these days), I decided to pop down to Garfield Park, which is one of the major Chicago parks connected by boulevards. I hadn’t been there in a good while, since some visits to the Garfield Park Conservatory.

The park, just as open and inviting in layout as Humboldt, since it too was a masterpiece of landscaping by William LeBaron Jenney, was nearly deserted on that Sunday in October.
Garfield Park, ChicagoThat didn’t encourage me to linger, but I did take a look at a few things, such as the bandshell, designed in 1896 by J. L. Silsbee.

Garfield Park, ChicagoMostly, though, I’d come to see the Garfield Park Fieldhouse. I’d only ever gotten glimpses of it from the El.
Garfield Park Fieldhouse, ChicagoOriginally built in 1928 to be administrative offices for one of the pre-Chicago Park District park entities, AIA Guide to Chicago Architecture says that designers Michaelson & Rognstad took inspiration from the California State Building at the 1915 Panama-California Expo in San Diego. (Still standing in Balboa Park, and quite a place.)

“The facade is exuberantly… punctuated with a Churrigueresque entry pavilion of spiral Corinthian columns, cartouches and portrait sculptures,” the Guild says.

Garfield Park Fieldhouse, Chicago

Garfield Park Fieldhouse, ChicagoGarfield Park Fieldhouse, ChicagoIs it ever. I understand that there’s more to gawk at inside, but in our time the building is closed.

Now I’ve Been to Havana

Havana IllinoisThrough the marvel that is Google Maps, I located Chinatown. That’s a restaurant in Havana, and we got food to go there for lunch on October 17. Havana, Illinois, of course, a town of about 3,000 on the east bank of the Illinois River.

 

The streetscapes along the north side of Main Street, including the restaurant. It runs east-west, so has a terminus at the river.
Havana IllinoisThe former Mason County Bank. Now it seems to be partly occupied at least by World of Color, a painting service. Havana is in Mason County, and in fact is the county seat.
Havana IllinoisFormerly handsome, now dowdy. Ghost lettering is toward the bottom, but I can only make out BROS.

Havana Illinois

A sign below that, not visible in my pic, says Apple Ducklings Preschool, which I suspect isn’t a going concern anymore.

On the other side of Main is the former Havana National Bank building, repurposed as Havana City Hall.
Havana IllinoisWaiting for lunch, I had time to walk up and down Main, while Yuriko visited some of the uncrowded antique shops on the street. Crowding, I suspect, is seldom an issue in this Havana.

I took a quick look at the Old Havana Water Tower, uphill from where I started outside Chinatown.
Havana IllinoisDating from the late 19th century, the brick water tower is not only on the National Register of Historic Places — detail here — but also is an American Water Landmark, a list I’d never heard of before. Old it may be, but apparently it’s still a functioning part of the local water system.

Not far from the water tower is the Mason County Courthouse.
Havana IllinoisBy my way of thinking, that isn’t a courthouse. It’s an office building for minor bureaucrats. But probably not faceless bureaucrats, since most everyone knows most everyone else around here.

At least there are a handful of memorials on the grounds. One for the Civil War.
Havana IllinoisThe World War.
Havana IllinoisOne for Lincoln. If Lincoln so much as passed through a town in Illinois, stopping only to get a new feedbag for his horse and use the outhouse, there’s going to be a 20th-century marker acknowledging the event.
Havana IllinoisDownhill from my starting point is Riverside Park. It includes a large bluff overlooking a bit of green space next to the river. According to a plaque, the bluff is called the Havana Mound.
Havana IllinoisI won’t quote all of the plaque. Enough to say that it says the mound was the site of Mississippian and later Indian “activities,” as well as the first white settlement in Mason County. In the 1830s, a four-story hotel was built there, which also served as a trading post and post office. Of course, Lincoln used to visit. But it didn’t last long, since the building burned down in 1849.

The odd thing about that plaque is the language at the end: Erected in 1984 by Havana Members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. That’s the first Mormon plaque I think I’ve ever seen.

In case you’re arriving by river, the town has put out a sign.
Havana IllinoisWe sat at a picnic table in the park at the bottom of the bluff, and ate our Chinese food. The park has nice views of the river.
Havana IllinoisHavana IllinoisHavana used to be an important river town, back when that was an important mode of transport, but these days it mostly sees barges and tugs.

New Harmony, Indiana, Part 2

After wandering around New Harmony, Indiana, for a while and seeing many interesting things, it occurred to me that we hadn’t visited one of the places that I was curious to see, because I didn’t know exactly where to find it.

Google Maps in this instance didn’t know either. Or rather, I didn’t know exactly what the spot was called, to tell Google. The search engine isn’t a mind reader, not yet (but surely that’s Alphabet Inc.’s dream).

We spent time looking around an antique and knickknack store on the main street, since New Harmony, pop. 750, has some of the elements of a day-trippers town (like Fredericksburg, Texas). I found a candle holder I wanted to give as a gift, and after paying for it, I asked the woman behind the counter two questions.

One, where I might find postcards, since her store had none. She offered a suggestion, and another customer who had overheard us offered another suggestion, which turned out to be closer by and correct.

My other question: “Can you tell me where I can find Paul Tillich’s grave?” I’d read it was in town. Not in a cemetery, but a standalone location.

I can’t claim to be an expert on Paul Tillich, or even remember that much about him or his theological ideas. Whatever I might have learned during my collegiate religious studies had long been forgotten. Still, I figured I should drop by and pay my respects, and later do a little reading to refresh my memory.

She told me where to find him. We’d wandered by previously without realizing it, since he’s tucked in a grove of conifers forming Paul Tillich Park.Paul Tillich Park New Harmony Indiana

Paul Tillich Park New Harmony IndianaNone of the stones in the pictures are his gravestone. Rather, they’re some stones in the park with Tillich’s words carved on them.Paul Tillich Park New Harmony Indiana Paul Tillich Park New Harmony Indiana

This is his stone.
Paul Tillich Park New Harmony Indiana
A little hard to read, even when you’re standing in front of it. Turns out to be Psalm 1:3.

PAUL JOHANNES TILLICH
1886-1965
And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit for his season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper.

What’s Tillich doing in Indiana? Broadly speaking, he was another inadvertent gift to the United States from the Nazis, like Einstein or Thomas Mann or Billy Wilder or Walter Gropius. Tillich came to America in 1933 and held a number of academic posts in this country. Apparently he was taken with the history and setting of New Harmony.

“Before his death in 1965, the philosopher Paul Tillich hoped to make New Harmony a center for his own teachings, and thus in a way fulfill the early ambitions of Rapp and Owen in making the town an example of spiritual and material concerns successfully united,” notes a 1978 New York Times article, which is worth reading all the way through. “The trust created Paul Tillich Park…”

Jane Blaffer Owen’s trust, that is, mentioned yesterday.

“Jane Owen’s charisma emanated from her spiritual liberality [also, maybe, her largesse]. She was profoundly affected by the teaching of the twentieth-century German-American theologian Paul Tillich, becoming by turns his admirer, student, and friend….” writes Stephen Fox in a magazine published by Rice University — also worth reading all the way through.

“In 1963, she persuaded Tillich to come to New Harmony to dedicate a site across Main Street from the Roofless Church for a park to be named in his honor.”

“On [Philip] Johnson’s recommendation, she had the New York landscape architects Zion & Breen design a natural setting of grassless berms planted thickly with spruce and hemlock trees, around which granite boulders inscribed with passages from Tillich’s writings and a bronze bust by James Rosati were installed. This is where Tillich’s ashes were interred in 1966.”

This is the Rosati bust.
Paul Tillich Park New Harmony Indiana

We weren’t quite finished with New Harmony after visiting Tillich. We spent some time at the town’s labyrinth, formally the Cathedral Labyrinth and Sacred Garden and patterned after one in Chartres Cathedral. Another work of the Robert Lee Blaffer Foundation.labyrinth New Harmony Indiana labyrinth New Harmony Indiana

We spent some time walking it. Ann had more patience with it than I did.

Finally, we approached the Harmonist Cemetery, or the Rappite Cemetery, a burying ground surrounded by a low wall. Outside the wall are an assortment of well-worn stones, dating from the 19th century but after the utopian experiments in New Harmony.
harmonist cemetery New Harmony Indiana

Many are illegible, but I could read the names and much of the info on this one.
harmonist cemetery New Harmony Indiana

JANE
Consort of
JOHN T. HUGO
Died March 11, 1846
Aged 27 years, __ months and 10 days.

“Consort” isn’t a word I’ve seen too much in cemeteries, but maybe I don’t go to the right ones.

Behind the wall are no stones, just a wide expanse of grassy ground.
harmonist cemetery New Harmony Indiana

There was nothing on site to explain that, but after a moment’s thought we speculated that the Harmonists didn’t believe in individual gravesites or markers, so we were looking at a mass grave. Later I checked, and that’s correct. Ann said that made the site unsettling, and I suppose mass graves can be, say if mass violence was involved. I don’t think that was the case for the Harmonists; just the result of the everyday dangers of living in the 19th-century frontier.

Note also the mounds. Apparently the area was home to Indian mounds before the Harmonists came, and so they must have considered it a natural for a burial ground. About 230 of the colonists lie there.

Garden of the Gods

Heavy rain last night, and instead of a winter-like blast today, the afternoon proved to be sunny and warm. More rain is expected this evening, however, and afterwards cold air will blow in. I couldn’t spend much time outside today because of work, but on whole I’m not sorry to be back after taking a week off. That means, among other things, I’m not ready to retire.

Below is the postcard view at Garden of the Gods in Shawnee National Forest, not far south of Harrisburg, Illinois. I think I’ll get that out of the way. Except that’s an obsolete reference. The Instagram view, for people unfamiliar with postcards.
Garden of the Gods
Late in the morning of Sunday, October 11, we arrived at Garden of the Gods, driving the short distance from Harrisburg. Unlike some views that involve hiking and hill climbing, Garden of the Gods is mostly accessible by road. You park at the edge of a path called the Observation Trail and walk it for about five minutes, up a mild slope, to reach the view.

Flagstones pave the trail. That’s got to be CCC work, once again.
Garden of the Gods
You can’t say you haven’t been warned. People meet their end at Garden of the Gods sometimes.Garden of the GodsNear the lookout.Garden of the Gods

Sometimes you don’t need to look to a vista to see interesting rock formations.Garden of the Gods

Sometimes you don't need to look to a vista to see interesting rock formations.
Still, you come for the views.Garden of the Gods

Garden of the Gods

Garden of the Gods

People do take their chances.Garden of the Gods

Garden of the Gods
Most of my pictures don’t show it, but on a pleasant autumn Sunday, a lot of people come to Garden of the Gods. So many that you had to wait behind them sometimes to see an overlook, such as at the postcard view.
Garden of the Gods
It was worth dealing with the crowds to see the rocks, weatherworn relics of an ancient seabed uplifted, rising over a sweeping forest. It’s hard to look at such rocks and think they’re anything but permanent, but they’re as ephemeral as the trees below, just on a much longer scale.

As a tourist mecca, I suspect the rocks are fairly new. One local shop owner I talked to — a small shop, no one else was there — said that Garden of the Gods has been particularly popular since the 2017 eclipse, when Shawnee NF was a good location to see it. No doubt people visited before that, but then again not for so long. The WPA Guide to Illinois (1939) doesn’t have the Garden of the Gods in its index, nor Shawnee NF for that matter, and for good reason when it comes to the latter. The national forest was established the same year the book came out, probably missing the publication deadline by a bit. The book amusingly refers to this part of the state as the “Illinois Ozarks,” a term that seems to have faded away. Well, not quite.

Another thing strange to imagine: Shawnee NF is in Illinois. Same state as the endless corn fields along the highway, the towers of the Chicago megalopolis and my ordinary grassy back yard. This was a thought that came up more than once during our visit to extreme southern Illinois.