After reading The Bear and getting a feel for Faulkner’s southern “mawnins” as they read aloud in class, Lit and Land students had a chance to try out Faulkner’s style with their own twist. Jessica based her Faulknerian interior monologue on this post card from Hallowell, Maine.

new day, new life.

and so he told himself. an overwhelming feeling of guilt wrenched the stomach of the young man, not even a man yet,  just a mature boy, a feeling no one his age should ever feel it wasn’t my fault it wasn’t my fault that goddamn incident wasn’t my fault he kept telling himself but he couldn’t eradicate the sensation and so

in his rundown dirty shack with a dirt floor, a grimy bed, an antediluvian wooden chair with only three legs and a small wobbly desk, the only source of light a flickering candle which sat in a little depression he had dug into the dirt, the candle had been burning the whole night and now was only a stub, it wouldn’t last much longer he should buy another one but he had spent all his money on a train ticket to Milford

the boy on the chair, hunched over the sticky and dirt covered table, a flimsy postcard with a picture of Taintor Stone Works on the front  - what a sick joke that the cheapest postcard in town was one of the company he had just worked at before the incident  - was on the table, a pen poised in his hand but no writing on the page save for the address, to his younger sister. He had purposely used a postcard so he could write little as to avoid explaining the incident on paper to his poor family, his family

his father, bedridden with some sort of mysterious sickness racked with a fiery fever slipping in and out of consciousness, every time his eyes closed they feared they wouldn’t open again, his fifteen year old sister so young and innocent caring for their father every day and night forced to witness his suffering, oversee his pain

their little matchbox where they kept all the coins for food slowly dwindling now, barely enough to provide for all three of them for another month, nowhere near enough for any sort of doctor or medicine, and since Father was too sick to work the boy decided it was finally his turn to make Father proud, offered to go out and work and bring home some money and Father

“But son you can’t do that, you’re too young. I’ll feel better soon, I’ll go to work tomorrow, you just keep going to school and getting a good education, that’s the best thing you can do for me, alright?”

but it wasn’t alright and Father didn’t feel better soon, didn’t go to work the next day or the next day or the next week; his condition worsened until he was physically unable to stand up by himself he had gotten so skinny his ribs sticking out like tree branches in the dead of winter his skin wrinkly and as fragile as burnt parchment mottled to unrecognizable colors, a week later the boy approached his bed and waited until his eyelids fluttered open and recognized his son and then the boy proposed his idea again and Father, his voice a low creak a guttural moan managed to push out the words

“If you … believe that’s … the best thing for you to do.”

and the boy leapt up with joy and gave Father an embrace, being careful not to crush the vulnerable frame of his body and rushed out of the room to pack his few necessities and right as he walked towards the door he heard a wheezing from behind him and

“I’m … proud of you … my son.”

and so he had left the house looking for a job, found one in Maine as a stonemason, traveled up with his neighbor who was generous enough to offer the ride; he remembered the pride and confidence that he exuberated from then, he was powered by that pride, the feeling he got every time he went to the post office to mail a large part of his weekly salary to his family even though his work was dull and repetitive simply using a chisel and hammer to split slabs of granite into smaller slabs of granite but it was gratifying but because of the incident it wouldn’t, couldn’t happen anymore

but how would he break the terrible news to them, without mentioning the incident? He was leaving by train at midnight tonight to Milford and to start his life over, a blank slate and so

he wrote Not going to stay he wanted it to be short and vague, that would be best then he wrote job no good which was technically not true since his job was still fine but there was no way he could go back – it was all his fault and

that creature sleeping in his stomach woke up again and his guilt came back, stronger than ever, all of his guilt could be traced with a clear cut line to the incident -

that one day at work when he wanted a little extra pay so he worked into the night and split a record amount of slabs, the deep rumbling and crash of granite cracking within itself and separating from one into two pleasing him to no end. he was dizzy thinking about the extra bonuses of money he would receive when his boss came in the next morning, dizzy with how elated his father and sister would be and he lost track of time and kept working straight into the morning and he must’ve been so fatigued drunk on that imagined happiness and so

the next morning the sun rose, gradually throwing golden rays through the windows and exposing to the lighted eye the hard work he had done overnight and he was still working, chiseling and hammering on one more and he heard his supervisor’s footsteps coming down the walkway and he worked even harder to show off his efforts and the door opened and the supervisor walked in, surprised to see someone already here and then looked around at all the perfect split slabs stacked up on the floor and his old, stony face, the face of a man who had no children no continuing family whose stonemasonry business and his want for money fueled his avaricious soul, cracked into a smile and he strode up to the boy, positioned himself on the other side of the slab the boy was currently working on and the supervisor

“Well it looks like you’ve done a great job, my boy. I think you deserve a bonus. Come to my office.”

and the boy was overjoyed, everything was going the way he planned but then it didn’t. He had planned to give the slab one final stroke of the hammer to show his boss how skilled he was at this job and he did; the stroke resounded and echoed off the walls with perfect finality and he was pleased, the supervisor was pleased, and then he heard, very faintly the rumbling sound that came from within the granite slab and

he realized too late and he had hit it too hard and now it was going to fall and his supervisor was standing right in the drop area and the supervisor didn’t hear the noise and the boy tried pushing him to the side but he resisted he didn’t know what was going on, oblivious and the slab fell

he wrote leave for Milford tonight he’s going by train he had used the rest of his money to buy a ticket to start a new life. He would become a logger, working days and nights alone in the woods nobody around for him to injure or kill kill the word was like a black cloud overtaking his mind he had killed a man he couldn’t escape it and

fell onto his supervisor, and all the boy could do now was stand from aside and watch it happen, it was like an out-of-body experience he was a bystander to a catastrophe, it was almost in slow motion, the slab tilting sideways and the old sturdy man being crushed under its weight, resisting for a second or two being able to hold the weight, hugging the slab like a dear friend with a look of surprise on his face but not a pleasant surprise a shocking surprise and slowly contorting into pain and then he couldn’t hold the weight no more and gravity took control and they, the supervisor and the slab went down falling like two dominoes in a row and it seemed almost graceful in a sick twisted way

and then the sound. The clash and boom of the granite and the crack of the supervisor’s head on the floor, it seemed to echo and reverberate throughout the room for eternity and then all that sound, that colossal calamitous sound, was like kryptonite to his joyous mood and all of a sudden the sound was transformed into a weight onto his shoulders as he realized what he had done, the enormity of the situation and

he had started to cry, alone in the little wooden shack, the tears that he held in for so long ever since the day he took another man’s life were now a free flowing river down his guilt-ridden face a few tears dripped onto the letter he was writing, leaving some smudges that he tried to fix then he turned away from the letter and gave in and cried openly, heaving sobs that wracked his whole body – he was a shaking quivering mess and

there was no blood, the head hadn’t broken. it was so still and stagnant and the boy couldn’t stop himself from staring at the scene lying on the floor, the supervisor whose face was frozen forever in stricken shock that just one minute ago was smiling and talking to him and he heard the front door open and close and then footsteps, a coworker walking in and he had to leave, he had to get away as far away as possible, so he ran out the back door and kept running back to his dilapidated shack, taking out all his money running back to town buying a train ticket for the next day, he never ever wanted to return back to the scene of the incident the guilt, the guilt

tell father he wrote two simple words seemingly harmless but carrying so much weight and he couldn’t even imagine how they would respond to this postcard, just another spear of guilt to feed the creature in his stomach

the candle was flickering more and more, barely a stub now, the hot wax melting into the ground and so he climbed into his hard lumpy bed and slept there for one final time before the train left tomorrow and so he told himself

new day, new life.

- Jessica Chen, Somers NY

Sprechen sie Deutsch? Parlez-vous Francais? Ты говоришь по-русски? Today’s Foreign Language Variety Show comes complete with poetry, translations, essays, and language exercises. Enjoy!

Vous etes dans votre lit.
Il y a un frisson dans les jambes.
“Oh,” vous dites. “Je comprend. Ouais.”
Vous ouvrez la porte arriere de votre cabine.
Vous regardez les arbes, les fougeres, et les papillons.
Vous choisissez un endroit qui vous aimez.
Faire pipi.

-Dani Hupper, New York NY

- Seneca Love, Bangor ME

Ich packte meine Sachen in eine wasserdichte Tasche und brachte Nüsse, Karrotten, Käse und Kräcker zum essen. Dann wanderte ich zu meinem Platz. Das war eine 15 Minuten wanderung. Ich baute mein Zelt im Wald. Ich hatte eine Aussicht auf das Wasser. In der dunkeln Nacht hörte ich Vogel, Rehe und Boate. Am Sonntag, kam ich um 14:30 Uhr zurück. Es war mein Geburtstag. Ich feierte mit meinen Freunde.

I packed my things in a waterproof bag and brought nuts, carrots, cheese and crackers to eat. Then I walked to my spot. That was a 15 minute hike. I set up my tarp in the woods. I had a view of the water. In the dark night I heard birds, deer and boats. On Sunday, I came back at 2:30 clock. It was my birthday. I celebrated with my friends.

- Maegan Stump, Pittsburgh PA

Я вас любил : любовь еще, быть может,
В душе моей угасла не совсем;
Но пусть она вас больше не тревожит;
Я не хочу печалить вас ничем.
Я вас любил безмолвно, безнадежно,
То робостью, то ревностью томим;
Я вас любил так искренно, так нежно,
Как дай вам бог любимой быть другим.

- Poem offered as Plato by Constanza and Tim Gray, Boston MA

1    Gallia est omnis dīvīsa in partīs trīs, quārum ūnam incolunt Belgae, aliam Aquītānī, tertiam quī ipsōrum linguā Celtae,

2    nostrā Gallī appellantur. Hī omnēs linguā, īnstitūtīs, lēgibus inter sē differunt. Gallōs ab Aquītānīs Garumna flūmen, ā Belgīs

3    Mātrona et Sēquana dīvidit. Hōrum omnium fortissimī sunt Belgae, proptereā quod ā cultū atque hūmānitāte prōvinciae longissimē absunt, minimēque ad eōs mercātōrēs saepe commeant atque ea quae ad effēminandos animōs pertinent important, proximīque sunt Germānīs quī trans Rhēnum incolunt,

4    quibuscum continenter bellum gerunt. Quā dē causā Helvētiī quoque reliquōs Gallōs virtūte praecēdunt, quod ferē cotīdiānīs proeliīs cum Germānīs contendunt, cum aut suīs fīnibus eōs prohibent aut ipsī in eōrum fīnibus bellum gerunt.

Gaul is divided into three parts, the frist of which the Belgae inhabit, the other the Aquitans, the third who in language of them are Celts, we call them Gauls in our language. All these languages, customs, and laws are different between them. The river Garumna divides the Gauls from the Aquitans, and the rivers Matrona and Sequana divides them from the Belgians. Of all these, the bravest are the Belgae, because they are the farthest away from the culture and civilization of the province, and less often merchants often come to them and so of them they import few of those things which tend to weaken warlike spirits, and in proximity to the Germans who live across the Rhine, with who they wage continuous war. For which reason, the Helvetii, surpass the rest of the Gaul’s with the respect of their courage, because almost daily they contend with the Germans in almost daily battles, when either they prohibit them from their own territory or they wage war in the territory of them.

-Nick Wray, Bar Harbor ME

Que los Estados Unidos significan a mí

En mi país, hay muchas tradiciones diferentes porque así que mucha gente de otros lugares vive aquí. Pero creo que también nosotros tenemos un espíritu unido de alguna manera. Hay muchas cosas que muchas personas en nuestra población acepta. Creo que una cosa que represente los Estados Unidos es la música de rock. Es un símbolo de nuestros cambios en el pasado y el presente. Por mucho tiempo, la gente no aceptaba música de rock porque algunos liricos eran diferentes de los tradicionales o contenía juramentos. Los jóvenes no estaban de acuerdo con los adultos que la música era mala porque ellos querían usarla para expresarse. Decidieron crear un movimiento de rebelión y cambió la imagen de música en todo el país. Ese evento es un buen ejemplo del mejor concepto de los estados unidos: cambios son necesario para felicidad y éxito del  pueblo.

Para representar los estados unidos, yo escojo el pastel de la calabaza porque es un comida clave para el día de acción de gracias. Este día significa un tiempo importante para el pueblo del país porque nosotros lo celebremos  el tiempo cuando los peregrinos descubrieron nuestra tierra. Ahora muchas familias estadounidenses hacen el pastel de la calabaza; es un plato que tiene un sabor casero y delicioso. Y también, este postre es una fruta muy popular en decoraciones de otoño, Halloween, y cuentos tradicionales como Cenicienta. Imágenes populares como nuestra comida son muy importantes en los estados unidos porque simbolice las necesidades del pueblo. Pero mal consumismo es un mejor problema en nuestro país.

Pienso que los estados unidos tienen ambos imágenes buena y mal para el mundo internacional; es diferente para cada país. El pueblo tiene muchos problemas como el mal consumismo y desacuerdos políticas, pero también mucha libertad y elecciones. Hay países que les gustan los estados unidos porque tenemos relaciones del comercio, pero no les encanta nuestras leyes e injusticias. También hay países que no están en acuerdo con los ideales estadounidenses. Muchos países como Irán y Afganistán tienen religiones y costumbres diferentes y no quieren estar asociado con nosotros. Por este razón, a veces estoy orgulloso ser estadounidense. Me gusta que mi país es de mentalidad abierta. Creo que los estados unidos tienen una buena idea cómo gobernar el pueblo, pero tiene los defectos. No tenemos igualdad para todos. El gobierno dice que todos tienen derecho a recibir una educación y nuestro país se llama “la tierra de oportunidades,” pero algunas personas no pueden tener los derechos normales de un ciudadano. Hay muchas personas que necesitan trabajar en lugar de ir a la escuela  para proporcionan comida por sus familias. Mientras tanto, hay buenas cosas sobre los estados unidos como una variedad de carreras, programas, lugares influyentes, y opciones en general. En comparación con muchos otros países, los estados unidos tienen muchos derechos para mujeres, niños, el pobre, y personas de culturas y religiones diferentes. Por ejemplo, todas las empresas se les exigen tener una declaración de privacidad y una promesa que personas de cualquier origen pueden ser candidatos para un trabajo. Estoy orgulloso de mi país porque tenemos leyes de que protegen alguna parte del pueblo. Pero creo que necesitamos cambiar algunas cosas porque es la idea de la fundamento de nuestro país.

- Liliana Schrecengost, Bethlehem PA

Today’s class highlight features an article Sam wrote in Environmental Issues about Chewonki’s Zero Waste initiative. Get the nitty gritty details about the life cycle of trash and the Zero Waste Challenge for Maine middle schools through Chewonki’s interactive Zero Waste Poster.

There’s been a lot of talk going on at Chewonki about achieving zero waste. New snacks are being made in the kitchen to reduce packaging, we played a game on recycling, and we discussed the possibility of consolidating bathroom supplies to reduce packaging. Zero Waste is surely a noble goal, but I find myself asking “Why?” What is it exactly about zero waste that is so desirable? The obvious answer is that creating less waste is better for the environment. However, I’d like to go a little further into detail about what happens to the waste that isn’t recycled and why we should eliminate it.

80% of the waste the U.S. creates ends up in a landfill. A landfill is essentially a hole in the ground where waste is stored. The basic purpose is simply to keep waste out of the way. There are no additional benefits taken from the waste. It is simply removed from sight. It seems counterintuitive that the most common method of waste disposal utilizes waste for profit the least. The reason: it’s cheaper and easier.

In the past, landfills have almost always cost less than recycling. In a 1994 study by Franklin Associates, Ltd. it was found that the average national cost of curbside recycling was $114 per ton, while trash collection for landfills was only $71. Also, recycling requires more effort than simply throwing garbage out. Recycling generally requires that trash be sorted into numerous categories and processed separately. When a large company takes out the garbage, all they have to do is sort hazardous from non-hazardous, a less arduous and costly task. However, landfills are very damaging to the environment.

Landfills take up large amounts of land and alter the ecosystems they are present in. Also, despite the safety regulations on their construction, with time landfills often begin to leak a harmful substance generally referred to as leachate. Leachate is a liquid that usually forms because of rainwater leaking into a landfill and mixing with the chemicals within. It is often, though not always, highly toxic. Leachate can contaminate local groundwater, causing great damage to the nearby ecosystems and making water unsuitable for human consumption.

The cost efficiency of landfills does not extend to the common consumer, and often depends on local or state laws. In New York, recycling of metal and glass was reintroduced after all in-state landfills were closed because it cost too much to send the glass and metal to an out of state landfill.   Michael Shapiro, director of the EPA’s Office of Solid Waste, stated that “A well-run curbside recycling program can cost anywhere from $50 to more than $150 per ton…trash collection and disposal programs, on the other hand, cost anywhere from $70 to more than $200 per ton.” Thus, it is clear that landfills are not always as cost effective as other options.

10% of the trash that we throw away is instead incinerated. When trash is incinerated, the energy from the fire is used to create electricity or heat.   In a manner similar to a coal-fired power plant. The heat turns water into steam, which rises and spins a turbine, generating electricity. This method of waste disposal at least uses the waste for some purpose. However, it has numerous issues. For one, it is something of a risk for a company to create a trash incinerator. They need to be insured of a steady price of electricity, a steady customer base, and a steady supply of trash. These things are difficult to guarantee, and so companies rarely invest in incineration. Also, the practice of burning trash is environmentally deplorable. It releases large amounts of greenhouse gases into the atmosphere, not to mention trace amounts of mercury and other toxic substances. Thus, incineration is not a viable solution on its own.

All of the waste that goes into our landfill bins at Chewonki eventually ends up either in a landfill (as you might guess) or put into an incinerator. Only 10% of the waste produced in America is recycled (EPA).  Recycling is a process in which old materials are remade into something else. Plastic bottles are made into tables; metal cans are melted down for other purposes, etc. When a material is recycled, it is not being treated as waste; it is being treated as a resource in itself.

The benefits of recycling are numerous. When you recycle an object instead of throwing it out, you are keeping it in use. The object still serves a useful purpose. This reduces the amount of new resources we need to take from the environment. Why take more when we already have it here? It also reduces the amount of trash that is going into landfills or incinerators.

Recycling has a minimal impact on the environment. The recycling of wood or paper sometimes involves the usage of hazardous chemicals, but recycling all in all has much less of an effect on the environment than filling the earth with trash or setting garbage on fire. Also, recycling means that less energy is used in the creation of finished products. It takes 95% less energy to recycle an aluminum can than to get the aluminum from any other source.

The main disadvantages to recycling include the fact that not everything can be recycled. Many of the materials our society uses today simply cannot be remade into another useful object, and so they must be trashed. Also, when wood and paper are recycled, they begin to deteriorate and lose their usefulness over time. When recycling is done, though, it is invariably better for the environment.

Cost efficiency has been an issue in the past with recycling. However, the average cost of recycling is now less than the cost of throwing things into the landfill for the average consumer. It costs from $50-150 for every ton of recycled waste versus $70-200 for simple landfilling. These costs only apply to consumers or small-scale businesses, however. The numbers work a little differently for larger scale businesses, so they tend to recycle less.

The average person in America recycles about 34% of their waste. However, only 10% of our nation’s waste is recycled. The reason for this difference is that it is easier to recycle on a small scale than a large scale due to the need for jobs for people to organize waste to be recycled.

When a system is a Zero Waste system, it means that none of the system’s trash is put into a landfill or incinerated. All of the waste is eventually recycled. This is the most environmentally friendly and sustainable form of waste management, but also one of the most difficult to achieve. Zero Waste requires that all waste be recyclable (which includes composting). To do that, you need to be very careful about what you buy. Packaging accounts for 30.3% of all municipal waste sources, the largest single source within the stream. Thus, we must avoid purchasing products with excessive and/or non-recyclable packaging. Buying in bulk is also advised, as that tends to reduce the amount of packaging.

When we have a material that is not recyclable, we must find another use for it. To insure that Chewonki produces no waste, we must insure that everything used by Chewonki is reused as much as possible, and then recycled. I know it’s cliché, but remembering the three R’s is the most surefire method of bringing our waste to zero. Reduce-purchase as little material as possible-Reuse-don’t let anything leave campus that we could still do something with-and Recycle. If we can manage to universalize all three within our campus, then we will achieve our goal of Zero Waste, and become a more environmentally friendly and sustainable community.

- Sam Schwehm, Boothbay ME

Ethics students have wrestled with a range of issues this semester, including capital punishment, drone warfare, terrorism, torture, suicide, euthanasia, and sexual and racial discrimination. Over the course of the semester students have written and sent action letters that addressed these persisting issues from their point of view. Paige Buchanan sent an action letter to a representative from the “Addicting Games” website that addresses the message being sent by their game categories. (Names and addresses have been omitted.)

–

Dear (Representative),

My name is Paige Buchanan and I am currently a junior in high school. Over this past Thanksgiving break I browsed Addicting Games and was somewhat appalled when I saw the category “Girl Games.” By having this exclusive category it displays underlying stereotypes that are degrading to girls. Certain games in the category such as “Lets Get Cooking” and “The Boyfriend Trainer” suggest that girls should be in the kitchen and that they are supposed to be hyper sensitive over their boyfriends. These games promote the wrong ideas to young girls. An additional thought about this category is if it suggests that only girls should play these specialized games, does it imply that all other games are simply just for boys? Also, I think it is not right that this category excludes boys who may be interested in something like cooking or having boyfriends, but upon seeing this think that it is a girl only activity. I understand that Addicting Games did not make these corrupting games, but Addicting Games did create the Girl category. A way to solve this immoral and sexist issue is to eliminate the category completely. Thank you for you attention to this important matter and I encourage you to respond with your thoughts.

Sincerely,

Paige Buchanan
Portland, ME

–

After reading Paige’s letter I was intrigued and wondered what the other gaming categories were that had been deliberately set apart from “Girl” games. The top menu on the website offers these main categories, in order:
STRATEGY-CAR-SHOOTING-SPORTS-ACTION-PUZZLE-FUNNY-GIRL-MORE
(The MORE category offers over thirty more options, including RACING, NAUGHTY, POLITICAL, CUTE and GROSS, to name a few.)

HOLD ON TO YOUR SEAT AND GET READY FOR A BLOG BLITZ! Today is the last day of classes, phew! Across campus students will conclude ethical conversations about lifeboats, embark on their final field trip to track wildlife on Chewonki Neck, and throw down a little more elbow grease down at the woodlot. As students gear up for exams, let’s celebrate their hard work and creativity throughout the semester in their classes. Check back daily for the class highlight of the day!

Today’s highlight is from Natural History. Check out Lizzie’s field journal entry on Popham Beach dune systems (including the tail end of her entry on the rocky intertidal zones at Pemaquid Point and the introduction to her entry on the Chewonki salt marsh).

<Click on each page to enlarge>

- Lizzie Landau, Short Hills NJ

At Chewonki, home comes to mean more than where you keep your toothbrush and lay your head. Home is about relationships. Home is stoking your wood stove in the middle of the night to promise your cabin mates a warm wake-up. Home is taking a walk with a teacher who cares about you. Home is food that fuels hard work. For some, home is a little spot in the woods that welcomes you as you are – just you, alone.

In the first week of the semester students embarked on a quest for their phenology site – one spot away from the built environment to visit and observe over the course of fifteen weeks. (In case you’re rubbing your head: the OED defines phenology as “the study of cyclic and seasonal natural phenomena, especially in relation to climate and plant and animal life.”)

Each student has a different relationship with their site. For some, phenology is a chance to sit quietly and simply open eyes and ears. Others draw, paint, or photograph the change they observe as the seasons turn. Some students never sit down; they turn over each rock and log, dig down into the soil, follow a warbler in the trees above as it darts from branch to branch, or chatter back at the resident red squirrel. Below, Ella reflects on her phenology experience.

The beauty of phenology is that you don’t “have” to do anything. I have learned equally as much about myself as I have of the natural world surrounding me. I enjoy the peacefulness of just sitting on this rock — laying in the crevice between its folds. I enjoy staring into the face of the red squirrel which never ceases to visit me. I enjoy watching the wormers in the distance seemingly hack at the ground and converse in chipper tones. I willingly and lovingly accept change. Change in the trees, the weather, the birds, the rock, and me. My perspective has greatly changed from the first time I sat in this very place. I can look at both nature and myself with respect, appreciation, love, understanding, and inquisition, and I am grateful for that change. My phenology spot has also never ceased to support me. I’ve come, not only for the usual Saturday morning hour, and simply cried. I’ve sat here and laughed, or just lay staring peacefully. Regardless of my feelings, the snug mold in the crevice seems to perfectly hug my body, reminding me that I’ve found a place where I belong. I am forever grateful for this alone time.

- Ella Driscoll, Somerville, MA

Together again,
Welcome back to Chewonki!
Students write haikus…

(leave a comment with your haiku!)

This week Harper shares with us the highlight of his week: science field trip. Rain or shine, students go into the field each week to gain an understanding of the natural history of the Maine coast. Students have studied landscape ecology at Morse Mountain, rocky intertidal communities at Hermit Island and Pemaquid Point, and dune systems at Popham Beach. They have explored the salt marsh that borders our farm, collected macroinvertebrates in Montsweag brook, and, most recently, learned about forest succession and how to “read the landscape” to discover clues about the human land use history of our own Chewonki Neck.

Some of the sweetest moments on field trip happen when students put their pencils down, take in their surroundings, and let their curiosity, rather than their academic diligence, drive. Harper nearly got down to his hands and knees to watch the tide come in at the salt marsh. His eyes were locked in amazement as the water crept up over the mud flats, millimeter by millimeter.

Before coming to Chewonki, science field trips were not something I was particularly excited about or even thought about that often.  Science field trips weren’t the reason I applied here, and they weren’t the reason I came here. But now that I’ve had the experience first hand, field trips are one of the highlights of each and every week.  Every Tuesday, when I otherwise might be sitting in a classroom having my daily staring contest with the clock (spoiler alert: I always lose), I am standing knee deep in a salt marsh or exploring tide pools.  Every week I am amazed at the pure fact that I am outside, learning, and having an insane amount of fun while doing so.

Field trips always start out the same way: I dig through the bin of sandwiches made that morning searching for the one with my name on it.  Grabbing a handful of potato chips and putting them between the slices of bread quickly follows, and then I chow down.

Once we get out to our site for the week, we start with a site description and a map.  In our descriptions, we chronicle the weather, what ecological factors encourage certain plant life, and what may have caused the area to form the way it has.  If you were to come and watch us start our descriptions, you would hear questions being yelled through the air, such as: “What was the weather like yesterday?” “How hot is it?” “Is this a balsam or a hemlock?”

Interestingly enough, you will rarely hear any faculty answering these questions.  If you simply throw a question out to the group, another student is going to respond to you (hopefully with the right answer).  The only situation where I see faculty answering questions, is if you specifically go to them and ask.  During site descriptions, and during field trips in general, the faculty take a step back.  They always have certain material they need to cover, and they do typically steer us in the right direction, but the majority of questions are typically responded with “well, why do you think that is?”  And I feel like that really comes back to the whole teaching scheme of Chewonki.  Were not just being taught things, were being taught how to figure things out.

- Harper Estey, Ardmore PA

Students slept under the stars this weekend on their solos. With classes in full swing and semester projects underway in Art, Sustainability, and Environmental Issues, students have worked hard and encountered numerous challenges. Amidst the buzzing energy at Chewonki, it can be hard to find a quiet moment to relax, reflect on recent experiences, and think intentionally about the future. Olivia and MJ took time to write in their journals during their solos.

“11.05.11
mid-morning

After Paul, my advisor, dropped me off at my site yesterday, I spent a good hour finding a place for my tarp. I chose a nice open spot near the marsh, but last night was pretty chilly. I bundled up in long johns, sweats, two pairs of thick socks, a fleece, a neck-warmer, a hat, gloves, and a fleece onesie over it all. I tucked my clothes for the next day into my sleeping bag, wrapped myself in my blanket, and tried to fall asleep. It was most likely around 6pm.

I came out here expecting to have an epiphany about something, anything. I have a few things on my mind, but sometimes it’s nice not to think about anything at all. This is officially the longest stretch of time I’ve ever been alone, but it’s not the furthest into the wilderness I’ve ever been. I woke up to the sound of an airplane this morning, and I can hear Route 1 from where I’m sitting.

I’m on a rock by the marsh watching the tide go out. The water level has already sunk quite a lot since I first sat down and started writing. I think one of the coolest things about Chewonki is that I can walk through the forest and identify the plants around me. I’m sitting under an apple tree (was it planted?). I am in a stand of red oak, balsam fir, and white spruce, and can see the marsh grasses Spartina alternaflora and Spartina patens. Down the coast, I can make out white pine.

Another amazing aspect of Chewonki is that we ask questions like “why?” and “how?” How did this apple tree get here? Was it part of an orchard for someone who owned the land? It’s crazy to think how insignificant we are compared to the world. A logger’s work doesn’t pay off during a lifetime. So then why are we here? We don’t provide a significant food source for any species. Why were humans the species to develop as we did? Why does it matter if we die today, tomorrow, next year, or 100 years from now? Who knows. Could it be that the meaning of life is solely to be happy? We want time with the people we love, doing the things we love?

a little after 4pm

I am now under my tarp, allowing the day to come to an end. This morning I got up soon after the sun rose and went to raise my flag. I spent most of the day sitting peacefully on my rock on the edge of the marsh, writing and reading. It’s nice to get away from everything for a while. I finished Into the Wild and I’m enthralled. Sometimes I think Chris McCandless had the right idea. I would never want to abandon my family like Chris did, but I like his ideas of living off the land.”

- Olivia Cameron, Seattle WA

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(Friday)

“Night time. The sun has set and the moon risen. With no light other than that of the moon, I voyaged to the edge of the water, down the hill, and watched. Some sort of bright luminescence, close to the color of tonight’s moon, and close to the size of tonight’s sighting of Jupiter. But it appeared near the moon. Very near. And then traveled quickly away, taking maybe ten minutes, traveling near the horizon opposite me, and getting much smaller on the way. Until it disappeared. I sang a song I made up as I went, to the moon, about how little we really are, and no one would actually care if anyone else died, but no two people are alike, yet none are different.

I wish I had brought something to write (the song) on, but I didn’t so it’s just the same. The reflection of the moon moves silently with the incoming marsh. I watched the height while it raised two feet. The ducks called out in response to my song. I wonder who else heard.

Now time for a feast of cheese cubes, Ritz crackers, and celery sticks. Carrots too.

Dark of night. No longer bright enough to cast shadows. I woke up to something approaching me in the darkness. I could hear it trudging over, then when it was close enough there were light moans. I couldn’t see, but I tried to make noise to get it away…I rummaged frantically for my headlamp, found it after a bit and drove it away. Now there’s something else.
20 minutes later
I’m back. And breathing heavy. It was a porcupine I think. The whole time. I talked to him. Told him I needed to sleep. Broke down a tree. Ran him off. It’s cold out. I was shivering. I’m sitting here in my tarp tent. I just want to sleep. I have no idea what time it is. The sounds get amplified here in the woods.”

(Saturday)

“When I look up a little bit I see red oak leaves. I heard a squirrel up in the branches, so I turned around. My squirrel was black and white and right above my head. He began pecking away madly at a branch. His beak was about as long as his head, feathers gleaming like snow in the sunlight. My squirrel was a hairy woodpecker. Here comes some white breasted nuthatches. They’re beautiful.

The reflection of the trees on the glassy water is just that. An identical reflection. Am I the reflection of something? What is “REAL” anyways?!”

(Sunday)

“Final day. Sunrise.
The cut down south-west looks as it did last night, at sunset, but above the trees across me are not grey/blue/purple. But yellow, leaking slowly into a misty blue overhead. The marsh is close to high tide. Not like yesterday morning, it’s already receded a few feet, but it’s close. There’s a thick layer of mist covering the whole thing. I tried to take pictures, but cameras are so innacurate at capturing what the eye can. Or maybe it’s the other way around. Maybe I’m not really seeing what’s there…creepy…anywhoo. It’s stunning. The mist moves with the flow of the water, which is slightly circular in nature. A large black bird flew by. Soundless. Smelless. If I hadn’t been down there at that moment, I would have missed him.

Oh! I just heard a squirrel trampling through leaves and it reminded me. Last night, I had a squirrel making noises, and trampling around and squeaking – talking rather – in the back door I made of balsam fir and white pine branches. I woke up once more to squirrels, but that’s probably just because I’m not used to getting so much sleep as I have been out here – going to bed and rising almost at the same time as the sun. It’s a genuine experience.”

- MJ (Maggy) Johnson, Portland ME

We’ve got a double feature for you this week, folks! Artist profiles of two of our very own: Abigail Taubman and Maggie Rosenberg. These city girls (both hail from the Big Apple) see the flora and fauna on Chewonki through an artist’s lens. I sat down with each artist to learn about their past experiences and what inspires their work in Art and the Natural World here at Chewonki.

Byron in pen and ink by Maggie Rosenberg

At home, Maggie takes art classes both at her school and at Parsons, The New School for Design. She has found that art at Chewonki strikes the middle ground between her art worlds at home. Parsons, she says, is a more strict environment where her instructors focus on technique, while her art teacher at school is more open to experimentation and expression. Maggie likes that her assignments at Chewonki are nicely structured, but also leave room for each student to make decisions about the scope, design, and media used to complete projects.

Above is Maggie’s illustration of Byron the Barred owl, a member of Chewonki’s Traveling Natural History team. It is not every day that a wild animal visits your classroom and poses quietly and courteously for you. Maggie admits that when it comes to subject matter, she often stays within her comfort zone, “All of those feathers were intimidating! I like to draw people. Faces have such interesting shapes, and I understand emotions in humans better than in animals.” Despite her initial hesitation, it looks like she rose to the challenge with grace. Not only was she faced with unfamiliar subject matter, she experimented with media. She started with pen and ink and then added water to make an ink wash. When I asked if this method was a new favorite, she explained that she does not lean one way or another, “I don’t really have a favorite. If you stick to one medium, you don’t know what’s out there. You limit yourself.” Maggie employs pencil, ink, graphite, charcoal, acrylic and oil paints in her work.

Students in Art and the Natural World have began an extended independent project of their own design. Maggie’s eyes lit up when I asked what her proposal for her project was. Her focus will be on the relationship between domesticated animals and their wild relatives. She will illustrate pairs of animals, including a farm-raised pig and a wild boar, and a milk cow and a bison. She will extend the comparison to humans by depicting modern day humans with their historical relatives, chimpanzees. “By creating the word ‘wild’ and giving it meaning, humans have decided what is wild and what is civilized. We tend to think of farm animals as ‘more human’ than their wild counterparts, but we forget that our livestock descended from wild ancestors. We think of ourselves as civilized. Most humans don’t regularly think about our evolution from the “wild,” and some humans don’t believe it. I am so excited about this project!”

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Rainbow Chard Watercolor by Abigail Taubman

Abigail has always really liked crafty things, but she started taking art classes in middle school. Her first class was photography. She admits that in the beginning, she signed up because her friends were taking it, but has kept with it. Over the years she fell more and more in love with photography and has regularly taken two photo classes at a time. When I asked her what her favorite subjects were, she said, “Always people. I can create the interaction. There is more for the viewer to do when it’s a person because they can interpret what the subject is thinking.”

Last summer, Abigail traveled to Ireland with her camera to take part in “Art on the Farm,” a summer 3-week course at Cowhouse Studios. A sampling of her prints can be found on the Cowhouse website. Abigail is loyal to film cameras, rather than digital. She is eager to explore the possibilities in printing, “I met an artist at the Common Ground Fair who was working with tin types. I want to get into more alternative process photography.”

Art at Chewonki provides an altogether new experience for Abigail. She is excited to develop her drawing skills and get into different media. For the most part, students decide what media they will use for their assignments and projects. So far this semester students have been exposed to pencil drawing, watercolor, charcoal, pen and ink, and printmaking.

Above, Abigail displays her watercolor of a rainbow chard. It is no surprise that Abigail enjoyed the assignment, if only for the time spent at the farm. Abigail loves the farm. She loves the nature of the work, especially “the cycles large and small, the tangible results after starting something and finishing it, and the satisfaction of seeing the fruit of your labor.”

Although she dabbled in watercolor at Cowhouse, this rainbow chard is Abigail’s first work solely in watercolor. She remarks that although others get frustrated by the medium, she enjoys it, “I like watercolors because it’s easy to layer and correct mistakes. It’s flexible and forgiving.”

What is next in art for Abigail? She is excited to start block printing. Her design depicts a bird flying down low across the water.