The Casual Blog

Tag: Judith Chernaik

Resetting in retirement, new animal photos, new music, and reading The Uninhabitable Earth

A white-tailed deer at Lake Wheeler

My transition from a corporate schedule to a non-corporate one has been fairly undramatic.  I find myself smiling more and carrying around less stress. But it’s been sudden, and a little disorienting.  On Sunday night, I found myself starting to think about getting up early to get to the gym for the start of a new corporate work week, when there wasn’t going to be one.  Old habits die hard.

But I’m starting to develop some new routines that I like.  Instead of rushing out early to the gym, most days I’m starting with 20 minutes of mindfulness meditation.  Then I head out to one of our local forests and lakes with my camera and look about for animals and plants in the gentle early light.  After a couple of hours of looking, I head to the gym for various types of cardio activity, resistance training, core work, and stretching.  If it’s not a swimming day, I either read or listen to podcasts while I sweat.

Back home, I get a shower and make a green smoothie for a late breakfast.  Then I’ll download and process my latest photographs. I’m experimenting with various software tools, including especially Lightroom and Photoshop, and also Topaz, Nik, Aurora, and Helicon Focus.  

When my eyes and neck start to ache from photo processing, I usually practice the piano.  Currently on the workbench are Chopin’s first Impromptu and the Op. 27, No. 1 Nocturne, Liszt’s third Consolation, and Brahms’s Rhapsody Op. 79, No. 2.  

I’ve also been working on a couple of dozen jazz standards, like Misty, Stardust, and All the Things You Are.  I got reasonably proficient at playing some of the great American songbook before law school, but afterwards put that music it in storage for most of the last 30 years.  Now I’m getting the dust and cobwebs off and enjoying it again.

A gray squirrel with a hot dog at Lake Wheeler

Speaking of music, I finished reading the new biography of the Robert Schumann by Judith Chernaik, which I found worthwhile.  Schumann (1810-1849) was a great composer, who adored and married Clara Schumann, a great pianist, and had several children. He struggled with mental illness for much of his life, but left an enduring legacy.

I also finished reading Ian McEwan’s latest novel, Machines Like Me.  It’s a sometimes funny but ultimately serious book set in the recent past but with a futuristic premise:  the protagonist buys an expensive new home gadget, which is a completely realistic super intelligent humanoid robot.  There are various practical problems with having this device, and even more moral problems. I find the trajectory of advancing artificial intelligence fairly worrisome, and McEwan gave me some new grounds for worry. 

Although I finished The Uninhabitable Earth, by David Wallace-Wells, I immediately began re-reading it.   I would not recommend this book to anyone struggling with depression. The unvarnished accounting of the global-scale disasters that, to a high degree of probability, are coming our way are hard to process.  But I’m hoping there are many healthy people who will read it and be inspired to action. As much as Wallace-Wells makes vivid and real the possibility of cascading climate disasters, he also explains that, just as this is a situation that humans have created, it is one that humans have it in their power to address.

A great blue heron at Crabtree swamp

This week there was a good Ted Radio Hour podcast on this same subject.   It was inspiring to hear 16-year-old environmental activist Greta Thunberg, and get some ideas about carbon capture, animal agricultural redirection, and addressing climate change denial.  I’d like to think the dire reality of our situation is starting to sink in to public consciousness, and we may be starting to pull out of our death spiral.

In E.O.Wilson’s recent book Half Earth, on preventing more species extinctions (which I’m also re-reading), he points out another possible name for the coming era.  Instead of the Anthropocene, which emphasizes a biological world existing “almost exclusively by, for, and of ourselves,” he suggests calling it “the Eremocene, the Age of Loneliness.”   On our current trajectory, the earth will have fewer and fewer non-human species. This is, of course, disastrous for non-domesticated animals and plants, but also tragic for the humans who remain.

Carolina wren at Yates Mill Pond

It’s always seemed to me a simple thing to enjoy being outside in nature, but it’s starting to seem less common and more worthy of attention.  Now that I have more time to get out to our local parks, I’m spending more time with our still common animal neighbors, like deer, squirrels, and birds.  The ones here are from the past week. The deer at Lake Wheeler seemed shy but interested in having a good look at me. The squirrels there were having an after-picnic picnic.  The great blue heron at Crabtree swamp spent a long time hunting, standing still for periods, moving slowly, and striking quickly. It had several little fish for breakfast.

Eagles, gums, eyes, and the music of Robert Schumann and Leah Crocetto

Mama eagle and nest

After another mostly raw and rainy week, it warmed up and cleared up for a bit on Saturday.  I went up to Shelley Lake to try out my big new Sigma lens (150-600mm) and to check on the nesting eagles and other creatures.  Right after I got there, one eagle flew to the nest, and the other flew out. I stayed for another couple of hours, but saw only tail feathers — no more flying.  It was not lonely, though. There were several other photographers staking out the nest, and many hikers, joggers, and dog walkers who stopped for a bit to get the latest eagle news.  Apparently there are eggs in the nest, and eaglets are expected at the end of March. It was a friendly, cheerful scene. As I was leaving, I saw some other birds, and this deer with Canada geese.  

Last week, I had some health maintenance work done, including my regular (every six months) dental check up and cleaning.  As most people know, good teeth are a critical tool for eating and smiling, and we need to take good care of them. And so I’ve long been reasonably diligent about brushing and flossing. Even so, I’ve come in for some criticism by my dental hygienists.  Six months back, Debbie, the new hygienist, gave me a “needs improvement” grade, and heavily promoted my getting a water pick . The machines shoot a concentrated stream of water at the gums, which I always assumed was redundant with flossing and probably a waste of time and money.  But Debbie was extremely passionate and knowledgeable about teeth and gums, and I figured I’d better do what she said. I bought a cheap water pick and used it once a day, after the morning flossing.

It worked!  At my appointment this week, Debbie gave me an A+, declaring that my gums looked fantastic. She also acknowledged that it took sustained daily effort to get such a result.  I was very proud!

I also had my annual eye exam with my optometrist, Dr. Cloninger.  The good news was, my right (good) eye was fine, and in fact slightly less near-sighted than last visit, as sometimes happens with age. Dr. C didn’t think I needed new glasses.  But he mentioned some research regarding the harmful effects of blue light from computer screens, including macular degeneration. This was disturbing, since I really need to take care of my remaining vision.  That very day I activated the blue light protection mode on my computers. (For Apple devices, that’s Night Shift mode.)

A chickadee

As usual, I’ve been giving myself regular music therapy — practicing the piano, including a fair bit of sight reading, and listening to some music that’s new to me.  I also started the new biography of Robert Schumann by Judith Chernaik. It’s a pleasure to read, and it inspired me to listen to more Schumann via Spotify.

At some point when I was a serious music student, someone I trusted made a negative, dismissive remark about Schumann’s style, which was enough to steer me away from it.  That was unfortunate! He was bold and original, with emotional depth and insight. I’ve been listening to his piano works, chamber music, and songs, and finding a lot of beauty.  Just one example: Dichterliebe, a song cycle of 1840, is so beautiful it hurts. With the internet, this wonderful music is at our fingertips, almost free and easy to find. But as noted, in a world full of attractions and distractions, it’s also easy to miss.  

A singing Carolina wren

On Sunday afternoon we went to a recital of soprano Leah Crocetto with pianist Mark Markham.  Crocetto sang the title role in Norma with the N.C. Opera a few months ago, and I was overwhelmed by her enormous talent.  But I was unfamiliar with most of the music she programmed for the recital — sets of songs by Respighi, Poulenc, Rachmaninoff, and Gregory Peebles (b. 1977) — and wasn’t really expecting to love the show.  

But it was wonderful!  Crocetto, it turns out, is not just a great voice.  There’s also an extraordinary intelligence in her musicianship at every level, from the programming to the subtlest nuance of expression.  For all that, it didn’t feel over-engineered. She seemed to inhabit the songs, rather than just singing them. She gave them, and us, everything — total emotional commitment.  It was powerful.

The last part of the program was a selection of songs from the great American songbook — that is, show tunes by Gershwin, Arlen, Rodgers, and Fain.  When I saw them on the program, my expectations were low; I figured these songs were pretty well mined out by Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, Sarah Vaughan and countless others in the mid-twentieth century.  How wrong I was! Crocetto brought the songs to life, and made each one a dramatic story. Unlike with some great singers, her performance was not at all about her, but rather about the song. She was generous and unselfish.  

The same was true of Markham on the piano.  He was an excellent musician and a superb accompanist.  If I was a singer, I’d love to have him as a partner.

Another good singer — a cardinal (the North Carolina state bird)