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Nanny Lane leads down to Troutbeck
Walk Photo 102307
Caption - Nanny Lane leads down to Troutbeck.
Walk 1023 : Wansfell Pike & Wansfell
Photographer : Lou Johnson
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Granger Smith, Wife Amber Film 'Today' Segment About Child Drowning Prevention
Granger Smith and his wife Amber are continuing their mission of childhood drowning prevention. Sitting down with Today for a segment that has yet to air, the couple open up about their own tragedy while also informing families nationwide about how to take important safety steps, especially as summer approaches.
Child drowning is a painful reality they've lived. The couple's 3-year-old son, River Kelly Smith, died after drowning in the family's pool last June. Since that horrific day, Granger and Amber have made it their journey to share their story in hopes of saving other kids.
"I didn't understand child drowning like I do now," the country singer admits in the video, explaining to fans that drowning is a "multi-layered" tragedy that is silent and can take only a matter of seconds. The behind-the-scenes footage from Today — shot in the family's Texas home — is part of a recent episode of their YouTube series, The Smiths.
Amber has learned the facts — things she may not have realized before losing her son — and is straight-forward about delivering them. Families should have a four-sided, four-foot locking fence around their pool, she says, and a second lock for added safety. Pool alarms, swim survival lessons, wearing life vests and keeping toys out of the pool area are some of the other measures Amber suggests families take to keep kids away from water when they shouldn't be near it.
"We are trying to find research to find all the things we can do to prevent this from happening," she advises. Another tactic they are currently researching is the My Buddy Tag, a system where both a child and their responsible guardian wear digital bracelets that enable the adult to set certain parameters for how far a child can travel away from them. If they go beyond the limit, an alarm will go off.
But Amber ends her testimonial with the most important advice of all: "Just love your kids," she says. "Be present with your kids, spend time with them as much as you can, because as we know, we're never promised tomorrow ... and with as much control as we think we have, we don't."
After River's passing, the Smiths donated his organs and saved the lives of at least two other people. They also started the River Kelly Fund, which raises awareness and generates donations for causes that are important to the family, benefiting children in need and first responder assistance, among many other causes.
These Country Singers Have Lost Children, Too:


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Once again, your mother was right. You really do need to eat your vegetables. And while you are at it, put down the bacon and pick up the olive oil, because new research supports the contention that switching to a Mediterranean diet could significantly decrease the risk of heart disease.
According to a study published Friday in JAMA Network Open, people who followed this type of diet had 25 percent less risk of developing cardiovascular disease over the course of 12 years.
The diet's components make sense to anyone who follows nutrition news. Avoid red meat in favor of "good" fats like fish and poultry. Swap out salt for herbs and spices. Ditch butter and margarine and opt for olive oil instead. Most important, eat a lot of fruits and vegetables. Nuts are good, so are whole grains. And, every once in a while, have a glass of red wine.
Since the 1950s, researchers have pointed out this diet's possible cardiovascular benefits. More recently, it has been credited with addressing any number of ills, including Alzheimer's disease, asthma and helping pregnant women control factors that lead to high-birth-weight babies and contribute to obesity risk factors as kids grow.
Until Friday's study, though, no randomized trials had been conducted in the U.S. to determine this diet's long-term effects. This research also sought to shed light on the molecular underpinnings of why.
The mechanisms by which the Mediterranean diet reduced cardiovascular disease "were sort of a black box," said Shafqat Ahmad, the lead author of the paper and a researcher in the department of nutrition at Brigham and Women's Hospital and the Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health. "We know it reduced cardiovascular risk," he added, but the precise ways it had this effect over time "are not well understood."
Ahmad and his co-authors, using a panel of nine biomarkers in blood tests, were able to isolate exactly why the diet reduces heart disease.
The three biggest biological mechanisms were changes in inflammation, blood sugar and body mass index.
Inflammation was the issue for Meg Grigoletti, a 23-year-old graduate student from New Jersey who switched to a Mediterranean diet when she was recovering from back surgery in 2014. Her doctors recommended it to reduce swelling, hoping it would ease the pain in her back and help her migraines.
"It's more of a lifestyle than a diet," Grigoletti said. "It taught me what food is good for me and what's not."
Researchers followed more than 25,000 women who were part of the Women's Health Study, a survey of female health professionals older than 45. At the beginning of the study, participants completed a questionnaire on 131 different foods to assess their diets. They were then assigned different "MED scores" on a scale of 1 to 9, based on how closely they followed the Mediterranean diet.
There were three levels, people who scored between zero and 3 were on the low end, 4 to 5 was in the middle and 6 and up was categorized as a high intake of Mediterranean diet foods.
The participants' cardiovascular health was then tracked for 12 years.
When all was said and done, those in the middle category saw a 23 percent reduction in risk, and the upper category had 28 percent less risk of cardiovascular disease.
Heart disease is the leading cause of death for both men and women, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention — claiming about 600,000 lives each year. Coronary heart disease is the most common form, killing more than 370,000 people annually. Each year, about 735,000 Americans have a heart attack.
The authors pointed out that these findings do have limitations. For instance, the study relied on self-reported data, which isn't always accurate — especially when it involves diet choices. The participants, all of whom were female health professionals, also might lean toward healthier behaviors than the rest of the population.
The results of the study weren't a shock to Dr. Andrew Freeman, the director of cardiovascular prevention and wellness at National Jewish Health hospital in Denver. He wasn't involved in the study but has been recommending a Mediterranean diet, or a similar version of it that emphasizes vegetables and fruit, to his patients for years.
"There's a lot of noise out there, but the signal that's been out there the longest is this kind of plant-based diet is the best."
He also acknowledged that there is a lot of competing nutritional information swirling around the airwaves and the internet, which amounts to "a whole lot of hype" that makes healthy eating habits a difficult regimen for many consumers.
And doctors often don't have clear information, either. "The vast majority of cardiologists and health providers in general have very little nutrition training," Freeman said.
He switched to a mostly plant-based diet after his residency, and lost 35 pounds. He now recommends this approach to his patients, too. He said he has seen his patients' conditions — heart disease, high blood pressure and diabetes — improve.
"Nutrition and lifestyle medicine is the place where there's a chance of a cure," Freeman said.


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Brand: mDesign
Color: Clear
- STACKABLE STORAGE: Each rack holds up to 5 wine bottles or bottled beverages for organized kitchen countertops, tables, pantries, cupboards, dining rooms; Bottles are stored horizontally in individual compartments so they are always easy to grab; Stack to create vertical storage to help maximize your space - use on the counter or in the fridge for perfectly chilled drinks; Ideal wine rack stand for smaller kitchens or for attractive, space saving storage on your wine bar; Set of 4
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- QUALITY CONSTRUCTION: Made of durable BPA and Chlorine free shatter-resistant plastic; Food Safe; Easy Care - wipe clean with mild soap and water; Do not place in dishwasher
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Publisher: MetroDecor
Details: Organize and show off your wine collection with the Countertop Wine Rack Organizer by mDesign. Each rack holds up to 5 bottles of your favorite wine or bottled drink. The stackable design lets you create vertical, space-saving storage on kitchen counters for instant access or in the fridge for perfectly chilled drinks. Curved compartments keep each bottle separate and organized, while the open tops make it easy to grab a bottle right when you need it.
Package Dimensions: 21.0 x 18.0 x 5.7 inches


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Monday, December 31, 2012
Seashell Liberation
In the summer of 1979, when I was almost 13, my family took a trip to Sanibel Island. We rented a ramshackle cabin on the beach beneath some towering Australian pines, and went shell collecting every day, which is what you do on Sanibel. Among my souvenirs from that trip were four large, broken, sun-bleached shells -- three whelks and a horse conch.
When I got them home I put them on the windowsill in my room, and there they stayed until I moved to my own apartment in college. Then they moved with me, and indeed with every consecutive move those shells came along. Even to Manhattan.
Then I moved to England. Packing those big ol' seashells and taking them across the ocean to Europe just seemed a little crazy. They would be out of place there. I decided instead to put them back on the windowsill in my old room at my mom's house.
Mom, however, is trying to cut back on the vast accumulation of stuff in her house. So yesterday, when Dave and I drove down to Anna Maria Island to see my friends John and Sue, I brought the seashells with me. The four of us went to lunch and then to the Rod N' Reel Pier, where we had a beer and watched the fishermen and the birds (including a creature called a razorbill that's apparently caused quite a sensation among local bird-watchers). Then we walked out to the beach and, without any special ceremony, threw back those shells.
I think I've written before about my belief in returning natural objects to the sea, rather than throwing them away. It was satisfying to know that after 33 years, those shells soaked up the salt water, shed the dust they'd accumulated on my shelves and resumed the slow process of being ground down to beach sand.
(Photos: A vacant building on Nebraska Avenue in Tampa; a mural in Palmetto; Gary Sweetman's photography studio in Bradenton.)
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Grouper, Grits, Kumquats and Strip Clubs
This is Nancy's on U.S. 41 in Lutz, right around the corner from my dad's house. I love this place. We came here for breakfast the other day and I got eggs with grits and a biscuit, an essential meal for any southern vacation.
Before I write anything substantive, let me complain about technical issues. I don't bring my computer to the states when I visit family, because I have an old Apple laptop at my mom's house. The problem is, this laptop is so old that web pages can take forever to load, and sometimes they don't quite work at all. Browsing the internet can be a painfully slow process involving the frequent apppearance of the Spinning Color Wheel of Death. So forgive me if you are a blogger and we regularly read each other's blogs and I don't seem to be around at the moment -- it's probably because my gerbil-powered computer won't allow me to leave comments. I'm still reading, I swear.
Dave and I have been doing a lot of running around the last few days. Yesterday, for example, we visited my college friend Karl and his partner Joey at their quiet suburban oasis in Brandon. Karl and I used to go flea-marketing together, collecting mid-century pottery, furniture and silly objets, so I was eager to show him a photo of our onion pot. In return, he introduced us to Sweet Brown, which left me practically in tears with laughter.
We went to lunch, where I got another required Florida food -- a grouper sandwich. Then I drove Dave through all the most beautiful parts of Tampa, including the industrial-and-stripper-bar wasteland of Adamo Drive and the sketchiest sections of Nebraska Avenue, in order to pay a spontaneous house call on another friend who unfortunately wasn't home. Oh well.
Finally, last night, Dave's parents drove up from Bradenton and had dinner with my dad and stepmother -- the first time any of our parents have met. It went well, although we unfortunately chose a restaurant with a pianist-singer (beneath a spinning disco ball!) which made talking a bit difficult. We had to speak up to be heard over the strains of "Close To You." I ordered what turned out to be a huge martini, so I was a little loopy and mistakenly ordered Lobster Newburg when I meant to order Lobster Thermidor, the special. And for dessert: kumquat pie! That was a first for me.
Grouper, grits, kumquats and strip clubs -- that's pretty much the essence of Tampa right there. If we'd smoked a cigar we'd really have had the complete local experience.
Saturday, December 29, 2012
More Neighborhood Birds
I went walking near my dad's house yesterday morning and came across this beautiful red-shouldered hawk! Twice he swooped down onto the grass beside the street, grabbed something and took it back up to a tree, where he tore it apart, ate it, and wiped his beak on the branch. He was very neat. I don't know what he was eating -- I'd guess lizards.
This little blue heron was hunched on an island in a pond near my mom's house, keeping an eye on the fish.
We often see bluebirds near my mom's. Growing up, I never saw them. Were we simply not paying attention? Mom says there are more of them nowadays, because people have put up nesting boxes.
This little tufted titmouse was singing away in a tree in front of my dad's house. Dad says he sees a lot of them -- maybe they nest nearby.
This is a catbird, which isn't very distinctive-looking, but has an unusual call that sounds like a meowing feline. Apparently the Native Americans used to call them the Bird that Cries with Grief. I used to see and hear them when I lived in New Jersey, too.
Friday, December 28, 2012
This is what you get when a four-year-old dresses herself -- schizophrenic feet with multiple personalities!
The four-year-old is my friend Cherie's daughter. Dave and I met up with Cherie and her family for lunch yesterday at a Tampa pub -- which seemed really funny and yet somehow appropriate for two visiting Londoners. (Am I a Londoner or a Tampanian? I'm not really sure at this point.)
After visiting Cherie, Dave and I drove to my dad's, where we're staying for the next few days. My dad is a committed animal lover, and at one point he and my stepmother had about six dogs and about sixteen* cats. One by one, nearly all those animals have given up the ghost -- their last dogs recently died and they're down to just one of their old cats.
So my dad went to the pound and adopted Maybelline, who's playing with her plastic egg toy above. Maybelline is a bundle of energy, and she loves that egg. She chases it all over the yard. Doesn't she look proud to have finally caught it?
*Dad says they had eleven cats, not sixteen. But it sure seemed like sixteen!
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Neighborhood Birds
I didn't bring my good camera on this Florida trip. It's too big and heavy, especially with its accompanying lenses. Dave thinks it's silly that I invested so much in a good camera and then don't like to carry it, but as I've mentioned before, I'm a believer in light traveling. I have a secondary camera with a just-adequate zoom lens, and that's what I've been using to photograph neighborhood birds.
The red-bellied woodpeckers have been flocking to our front-yard bird-feeder. It seems weird that they're called red-bellied when their heads are so much more apparently red, but there's also a red-headed woodpecker with an entirely red head.
The blue jays like the feeder too.
We saw several robins in a neighbor's yard. Not very dramatic.
But then we also saw another variety of woodpecker -- a pileated, which was quite dramatic. They're not rare, but they're big and imposing.
My mom said this is a phoebe. You couldn't prove it by me. It was a long way up in a tree.
I think this is a gnatcatcher. Again, not the best photo. I am not much of a bird photographer. The damn things keep moving around!
My brother and his family went home yesterday, leaving me, Dave and my mom with a relatively quiet afternoon. I spent the time reading and planning the next steps of our trip. Today we visit a friend in Tampa and move along to my dad's house.
Last night we watched the Kennedy Center Honors. It makes me feel incredibly old to see Dustin Hoffman and Led Zeppelin among the honorees. And how surreal to see footage of Led Zeppelin from the '70s, with their grimy hair and sweat-streaked skin-tight jeans, strutting and screeching on the stage -- and then see the three surviving Zeps sitting up in the box with the President in tuxedos! The Wilson sisters from Heart sang "Stairway to Heaven" and did a bang-up job, and Kid Rock did a lukewarm version of "Ramble On," which nonetheless reminded me how much I like that song.
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
Holiday Fatigue
When I was a kid, this building housed a Biff-Burger restaurant. Biff-Burger was a regional chain, and I never ate there, but I remember the sign -- it looked just like the one at the single remaining Biff-Burger restaurant, in St. Petersburg. Our local outlet closed some time in the '70s, and the building went through a variety of changes since then -- as you can see it most recently served as a used car dealership, but I think even that is defunct now.
So did you survive Christmas? Our day began quietly with a relatively modest exchange of presents. Dave spent the rest of the day in the kitchen making Christmas dinner, which thrilled my mom by taking it off her hands. He was happy as a clam to have something to do.
Then Dave and I, along with my brother and his family, went to my stepsister's house to have dinner with my Dad and his family. Things got a little crazy there. We had 13 people in attendance, and the gift exchange was a bit chaotic, with everyone talking at once and glitter flying from all the shredding wrapping paper. My six-year-old neice was like the Energizer rabbit, fueled by a combination of sugary food and sheer enthusiasm. I don't know how she managed, because I was exhausted by the end of the day!
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Christmas Limpkin
This limpkin was standing on our dock yesterday morning, preening. Limpkins eat apple snails, and there was concern several years ago when a new, invasive variety of apple snail began replacing the native Florida snails. The new ones are huge -- fist-sized -- compared to the smaller native ones. Scientists were afraid the change would have a terrible effect on the limpkins. But apparently they've adapted, because my mom said she's seen them eating the bigger snails, and in fact we saw dozens of snail shells on the lakeshore. And we've seen or heard plenty of limpkins.
So that's happy news for Christmas, right? (Maybe not if you're a snail.)
I hope everyone has a great day today, whether it's Christmas or not in your particular household!
Monday, December 24, 2012
The sun did in fact come up yesterday, as you can see above. We have a lake behind our family house, and it served as the perfect sky-mirror.
Yesterday was pretty much just a day of settling in. I went for a walk with my mom. I helped her take down the spider webs that in Florida appear almost daily around the upper reaches of everyone's ceiling, hustling as many of the tiny spiders outside as possible. Spider liberation day!
We went to Publix, the biggest, cleanest, classiest grocery store on the entire planet. Their slogan used to be -- and maybe still is -- "where shopping is a pleasure." And it's really true. I'm not normally a fan of grocery shopping, but I think if I lived near a Publix I would go uncomplainingly every day. Mom picked up her pre-ordered fresh turkey and we got pie ingredients so Dave can make pies. (Dave is not happy without some kitchen duties.)
When we got home I walked up to the highway and came across these sandhill cranes, traveling in a pair as usual and mirroring each other almost as perfectly as the lake mirrored the sunrise. They're big, gawky, slow-moving birds that tend to stand hair-raisingly close to roadways, houses, you name it. They mate for life, and sometimes you just see one flying around by itself, looking sort of lonely.
These two looked happy enough, but they were standing a little too close to U.S. 41 for their own good. I saw them flying away a few minutes later, though, so they made it out OK.
The goal of my walk was an antiques and bric-a-brac store that recently opened near our neighborhood. I checked it out, and I wanted to buy something just to help the place out, but I didn't even find anything worth a charity purchase. Certainly nothing worth hauling back to London.
As I got home, Mom's cat watched me suspiciously from the roof. She has two cats, and they're sort of wild. They don't like any of the rest of us. I'm not sure they even like Mom.
Finally, last night, my brother and his family arrived and I wrapped presents. It took a ridiculously long time for as few gifts as I have to give. I'm not sure what I was doing wrong! Anyway, it's nice to have that finished now. I'm ready, Christmas. Sock it to me.
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Two More London Photos
Well, we made it to Florida, but I haven't had a chance to take any photos yet -- so you're getting two more London pictures from my walk through Leyton and Walthamstow.
Our flight was uneventful -- just really long. I plowed through a lot of "Vanity Fair" (I'm on page 640-something) and watched a very peculiar movie called "Ruby Sparks." It had its charms, but it's one of those movies that sets up an impossible premise and then fails to explain itself. One of the final lines was actually something like, "I don't really need to explain this." You know what? You do.
Anyway, we landed in Tampa yesterday evening and my mom picked us up at the airport. We came to her house and I haven't even seen daylight here yet. I managed to sleep until 5 a.m., which of course is really 10 a.m. according to my internal clock. My body is confused.
One thing we have noticed: moonlight. We never see moonlight or stars in London. But as we got out of my mom's car and made our way up the front walk, an incredible blue-white light patterned the yard. I'd forgotten what it looks like.
Saturday, December 22, 2012
Another New Lens!
Dave got me another new lens for my camera! This one's a macro lens, for close-up photography. I practiced by shooting the empty cocoon left behind by our dear departed butterfly -- still clinging to a leaf on one of our amaryllis plants (a very dusty leaf, as you can see).
I keep thinking our amaryllis plants are going to shed the rest of their sad-looking leaves and go dormant. But one or two leaves on each plant are still green, so I'm still watering the plants. I've been told that they don't have to go dormant completely -- that in spring they'll send out new foliage and perhaps bloom even if they keep leaves all winter. We'll see!
As for the cocoon, sad to think it's probably long outlived its former inhabitant. I still think of that butterfly, flapping out into the chilly November afternoon on the day I set it free. I'm a sentimental mess, I know.
We're off today for Florida, as I've mentioned. We fly out of Gatwick around noon, and fortunately, packing wasn't nearly as much of a nightmare as I feared. Even with (small and inexpensive) Christmas gifts, I'm traveling pretty light.
I intend to keep blogging from there, so stay tuned!
Friday, December 21, 2012
The Purple Coat
Yesterday was a long day, which is why I'm not getting around to blogging until 8 a.m.! It was the last day of school before winter break, and after finding a few substitutes in the morning for teachers who had the bad taste to have a crisis on the last day of school, I had to visit school myself to run some job-related errands. I had to have the "bat phone" (the sub request phone) repaired, and had to pass it off to my boss so someone could cover the night before the first day of school in January, because Dave and I will still be returning from Florida at that point.
(Oh yeah -- I haven't mentioned that. British Airways oversold our return flight on Jan. 3, so they're sending us home on Jan. 6 in business class! Alas, I'll be back in London too late to be on call that first night before school starts.)
Anyway, I then had to kill a couple of hours, so I went for a long walk, even though it was raining and generally miserable. My photography teacher, back in January, emphasized that we should be open to taking pictures in all sorts of weather. So I tried.
I walked through Regent's Park, wondering what on earth I would find to photograph in such a bleak, empty landscape. Fortunately a woman showed up wearing a brilliant purple coat, so I shadowed her, walking up ahead, setting up a shot and waiting for her to wander through.
It won't win any prizes, but it's something.
After enduring rain-spattered pant legs and shrouding my camera in a scarf for a few hours, I arranged to meet Dave at the home of his coworker Lorraine, who was hosting the music department's holiday party. We hung out with his coworkers for a few hours, and then went off with Gordon to meet his wife and attend "A Ceremony of Carols" at the Priory Church of St. Bartholomew the Great, in the Smithfield area of central London. It included a performance by a small choir (maybe eight people?) and a harpist. Terrific! We sang a few familiar carols, including "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" and "It Came Upon A Midnight Clear," though the latter threw Dave and me because it's sung with an entirely different melody here in England.
Afterwards, of course, the pub.
By the time we got home I was so happy to put down all my camera gear and relax.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Leyton Shopfronts
I did indeed get out of the house yesterday. I took a long walk from Leyton, in East London near the Olympic Park, north to Walthamstow. I found lots of great little shops along the way.
First, this literally Peculiar hair studio. One would think that might be a counterproductive name, but apparently God is looking out for them. I dig the woman with the big 'fro, and what about the giant strawberry? It's all very...well...peculiar!
I found several Romanian shops along this route. Apparently there's a Romanian enclave in that area.
I'm glad the folks at the Shop-Shop-a-Shop are thinking of me!
I have a soft spot for Chinese restaurants, especially with lackadaisical characters hanging around out front.
Looks like someone egged the window -- or maybe the owners figured they'd just get there first.
Now that is an attention-grabbing name.
I haven't a clue what the big sign is supposed to say, but I love the before-and-after shots. That woman on the lower left looks like Cindy Brady. And come to think of it, that might be Jan, upper right.
I have more, too, but I don't want to wear you out! I'll save some for another day!
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
FedEx Rage
I wrote a lengthy, detailed post about FedEx's second failed attempt to deliver a package to me yesterday, despite the fact that I was sitting quietly in my flat all day waiting for them. I was angry, angry, angry. Every other delivery person can find our apartment, but FedEx not only can't call me, ring the bell or leave a note letting me know they've come by -- they apparently can't even get to our front door. I only learn this hours later, when I check online tracking.
In the past few weeks, this has happened five times with two different FedEx packages.
When I mentioned this incident on Facebook, one of my friends wrote: "Here's the deal: the FedEx delivery man finds it far simpler to just take everything back and say that nobody was home than to actually go through the motions of delivering the packages. He probably spent the day in the pub. You need to speak to somebody higher up."
Which I suspect is true.
I deleted that post, because although it was cathartic to write, it seemed impossibly whiny and self-centered in light of the much bigger issues playing out around the world. I mean, things could be worse, right?
Besides, FedEx got in touch with me and promised to get my package delivered later this week. We'll see if they succeed.
Meanwhile, I am getting the heck out of the house today.
(Photo: Completely unrelated motorcycle guy on Portobello Road, Monday.)
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Bint's Chickens
I came across this fun street art on Ladbroke Grove yesterday -- a big chicken decorated with fried eggs. Gotta love it. The artist is Bint, and I met her not too long ago while she was painting at another location. Yes, she is a she, relatively uncommon in the male-dominated world of graffiti and street art.
I found this seasonally appropriate ice-skating chicken (such talent!) last week.
And then there was this one -- even more seasonally appropriate.
I had hoped to get out today and do some exploring, but I'm stuck at home waiting for a couple of packages. For some reason FedEx just can't seem to get things delivered to our apartment. I think they come to the little gate at the back of the complex, which is always closed, and get stymied and drive away. God forbid they should circle the block and come in the huge, main gate on Portobello Road (which is always open) and then ring my buzzer.
I also have to defrost our refrigerator. It has mysteriously stopped working twice now -- I've opened it up to find everything inside lukewarm -- and my theory is that's because the freezer coils are too iced over. I'm not sure whether I'll tackle that today or not. It's one of my least favorite household tasks, only slightly better than cleaning the oven or the shower.
Monday, December 17, 2012
Early Morning Phone Calls
Mass pandemonium this morning! Five teachers out, many substitutes unavailable because of the holidays. I'm afraid I'll have to go in and teach a class myself!
(No real risk of that.)
Anyway, while I wait for subs to call back I thought I'd manage a quick blog post. Dave and I spent a quiet day at home yesterday. He had a lot of work to do and I tackled "Vanity Fair." Then last night we went to dinner with Chris and Linda, our neighbors across the hall, at our local gastropub -- a last holiday hurrah of sorts before they vanish into deepest Surrey and we fly to the states.
Hopefully I'll get out and about with the camera today. That's the plan, anyway!
(Photo: Off to work! Notting Hill, last week.)
Sunday, December 16, 2012
A Recalcitrant Heater
When I took Dave's knife to Kensington Church Walk the other day, I came across this nameless shop with a cluster of hats in the window. They were perched there like birds or butterflies, tiny impractical hats that would never keep your head warm or shield you from the sun. I think they're technically known as "fascinators."
I suppose if you're in the market for a fascinator, you'd know whose shop this is. I bet those little things cost more than our rent.
A fellow blogger mentioned yesterday being flummoxed by her modern television system, and that reminded me to tell you of my own latest alienation from modern technology. Dave and I have a heating system in our flat that warms the floors. It's controlled by a series of thermostats, one for each room. The landlords told us when we moved in that the system is a little complicated, but they left an instruction guide and I wasn't too worried about figuring it out.
Well, let me tell you, complicated is an understatement. Dave and I have both tried to figure out these ridiculous little thermostats, which have digital screens and 11 buttons each for things like "day," "minute," "hour," "mode" and "program," or marked with symbols like a sun or a suitcase. We have utterly failed. Last spring we finally figured out how to turn the system off, we think, but this fall we've been unable to turn it back on again. So if I bitch about the cold a lot, keep in mind that our fancy heaters are not really heating. (We do have a fireplace, so that helps, even if it makes me feel a bit Elizabethan.)
Dave and I went to see "The Hobbit" yesterday. We liked it, but not as much as the "Lord of the Rings" movies. "The Hobbit" is a lighter story, and it's maybe a bit too cutesy in places. It also lacks the grand, metaphorical epicness of the first trilogy, which beneath all the elves and dwarves seemed to really be about Europe's disintegration in the first half of the 1900s. (I've read that Tolkien disputed that, but come on.) So, I dunno -- I have mixed feelings about the prospect of two more "Hobbit" movies to come!
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Red-Hot Reindeer
I'm not going to write much about what's happened in Connecticut. I just can't. I'm sure I have nothing to say that hasn't already been said, and it's too horrible. I'll just reiterate that we have to do a better job identifying and responding to the needs of people with mental illness or other conditions which make these nightmares possible. We need better gun control, too -- but ultimately we have to take better care of each other.
Dave and I were preparing to go to a Christmas party when we first saw the news. I tried to participate in the dialogue occurring on Facebook, and honestly I just couldn't think of anything to say that would encapsulate the horror and shock I felt. I still can't.
One of Dave's coworkers had a few of us over last night for special holiday "martinis," which really weren't martinis at all but sweet red drinks made with Goldschläger, cranberry juice and goji berry liqueur. They were certainly festive-looking, but drinks based on appearance are sort of aiming for the wrong criteria, you know? They were really sweet. We tried to think up a name for them and Dave came up with "Ruby Reindeer," which seemed to stick. I suggested "Red-Hot Reindeer," because they tasted just like those little candies known as Red Hots...but Dave's name prevailed. We all dressed up in suits and tuxes and nibbled hors d'oeuvres -- it was quite posh.
I did manage to make my way back to the knife store yesterday morning to pick up Dave's newly sharpened kitchen knife. I should have gone the day before, because although yesterday was slightly warmer it was raining like crazy! Ah, winter.
(Photo: A cafe in Crystal Palace, last weekend.)
Friday, December 14, 2012
Ice on the Pond
It was really cold yesterday. I went over to Kensington Church Walk to get Dave's good kitchen knife sharpened, and took a detour through Holland Park on the way home. The ponds in the park were iced over, and virtually no one was out. I saw a few lone individuals sitting bundled up in the cafe or on benches, or wandering along the leaf-strewn paths through the woods.
It seemed to match the mood of the wintry day that virtually everyone I saw was solitary.
The glorious peacocks in the Japanese garden seemed utterly unfazed, though. I disturbed the one above in the middle of a long and arduous personal grooming session. It's hard to look good, I tell you.
You can see how people might have trouble believing in evolution. Look at that bird. Could that really happen through natural selection and hybridizing? That little spray of perfect feathers on his head, those big turquoise eyes on his long sparkling tail? Really?
I mean, I believe it. I do. It's just amazing.
These magpies were taking a noisy bath in an unfrozen corner of one of the ponds. They seemed to be doing a dance with each other. I couldn't tell whether they were arguing or being amorous. It seems awfully early in the season for amorousness.
Anyway, only a few hours after I got back home the woman from the knife shop called to tell me Dave's knife was ready. I couldn't face going back again for it yesterday, so I'll go get it this morning. I think today is going to be a bit warmer.
I've been making progress in "Vanity Fair." I've set a goal of 50 pages a day, and for the last few days I've been hitting my mark. Last night, while Dave was away at his final concert of the season, I watched the '50s British espionage movie "The 39 Steps," which I liked even though some of it was patently ridiculous. I guess that's usually the way with spy movies, isn't it?
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Holidays and Hedgehogs
I am a believer in keeping Christmas simple -- and this year I have gone to extremes in that regard. Here in London, our Christmas is about as simple as the wall above. (I photographed it Sunday in the South London neighborhood of Brockley, purely because of its Christmasey coloring.)
As I've already said, we decided against a tree, since we're flying to Tampa on the 22nd. Having a tree seems pointless. I haven't even tried to do anything fancy with wreaths or boughs of greenery. I learned my lesson last year.
In fact, this is the extent of my decorating:
I've already given Dave his present, an iPad, because he needed a new computer so badly that I thought early gift-giving was in order. I've also bought some very basic, inexpensive gifts for our families. We have a few holiday gatherings to attend, which will be fun. And that's about it!
Instead of focusing on Christmas, I prefer to think about oddball trivia:
-- I've mentioned the British TV show "Embarrassing Bodies," in which doctors treat all sorts of medical maladies. Yesterday they happened to mention the largest kidney stone ever measured: 17 centimeters across! They described it as "the size of a small hedgehog," which cracked me up. (So far in life I have been mercifully spared a kidney stone.)
-- I am being peppered with Internet spam, both in blog comments (which Blogger screens quite effectively) and in e-mail. Yesterday I got a spam e-mail with the curious subject line, "Parrotnose invites you to see her private vids." Ummmm...no thanks.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Portobello People
I took my camera out on Portobello Road yesterday and walked up and down a few times, stalking the interesting characters. This lady, for example, was quite stylish with her heeled boots, up-do and leopard bag. Faux leopard is all the rage these days, isn't it? I see it everywhere.
This woman sort of had a Christmas-colored theme.
I wouldn't say I got riveting photos. It was so cold that nobody was really hanging out and doing anything outdoors -- they were just hustling along, trying to get inside again.
Except this guy, standing outside a pub. I think he was insulated by more than his big furry hat. Chemically insulated, you might say. His hat did get me paying attention to people's headgear, though.
When I got back to the apartment, my hands were so cold I could barely feel them. I ran them under warm water, which initially felt good and then became incredibly painful. I need some of those fingerless gloves! (I think I've said that before.)
This woman was selling used clothing. Brrrrr! Now that looks like a cold job.
I also spent part of yesterday trying to make some headway in "Vanity Fair." I'm only on page 89, which means I have roughly 720 pages to go! It is not a small book. It's interesting -- I just need to focus and spend some time on it.
Last night I watched "Blithe Spirit," David Lean's 1945 movie version of Noel Coward's play, with Rex Harrison. It was great, though like all Noel Coward plays, it was clever to the point of glibness. No one has any emotional depth. I suspect Coward would have scoffed at emotional depth. He was much more interested in martinis.
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MADISON, WI, APRIL 7, 2009 — A recent study conducted in the Midwestern United States examined the effects of harsh wet conditions on both cultivated and uncultivated soils, vastly advancing the knowledge of water's effects on aggregation. Soil aggregation is an important soil attribute that is related to the physical-chemical state of the soil, and is one of the essential processes that determine soil quality. During the wet season in the U.S. Midwest, upland soils are often under water for days or weeks, causing oxygen depletion, or reducing conditions, which may in turn affect the chemistry of the soil-water system and, consequently, soil aggregation. Loss of soil aggregation impacts agriculture by decreasing soil quality and crop production.
Recently, soil scientists investigated how changes in the reduction-oxidation (redox) status of the soil can impact soil aggregation during short-term ponding conditions. The group included Alfredo De-Campos, a former graduate student from Purdue University, and Amrakh Mamedov and Chi-hua Huang, from USDA Agricultural Research Service, National Soil Erosion Research Laboratory at West Lafayette, IN. Results from this study were published in the March/April, 2009 issue of Soil Science Society of America Journal.
To carry out the research, six different upland soils, three cultivated and three uncultivated, with different organic carbon and similar mineralogy were incubated up to 14 days in an anaerobic biogeochemical reactor. After each treatment, the soil solution was analyzed for metals and dissolved organic carbon. A simple laboratory procedure that measures the degree of aggregate breakdown during wetting was used to determine aggregate stability of the incubated soil samples.
The research revealed that the aggregate stability of upland soils was decreased under reducing conditions from short-term water ponding. The decrease in aggregate stability reached approximately 20% during a 14-day ponding period, which is quite significant in terms of soil disaggregation. Changes in redox sensitive elements, alkaline metals, and dissolved organic carbon under reducing conditions contributed to the decrease in aggregate stability.
Overall, the aggregate stability of cultivated soils was more affected by the reducing conditions than that of uncultivated soils. This indicates that the management system plays an important role in the stability of aggregates.
The use of natural soils without addition of chemicals simulated a realistic field situation when aerobic upland soils remained saturated for several days and the oxygen level depleted to a minimum, causing reducing conditions. The authors believe that once the reducing reactions take place in the field and disaggregation has occurred, the process will not reverse itself because the natural drainage will carry away the released chemicals and the chemistry of the soil-water system will not return to the original state. The disintegrated aggregates may clog the soil pores and further degrade the soil structure.
However, reducing conditions only occur for short periods of time during the wet season in upland soils, whereas aggregation processes operate for several months causing re-aggregation of soil particles. The long-term irreversibility in soil disaggregation caused by the short-term reducing conditions remains an open question.


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June/July 1981
The editors have invited me to write an occasional column on history as encountered in movies and on television. The assignment is welcome to one who has been irregularly a film critic as well as regularly a historian. But the job may not be so simple as it first appears. For the relationship between history and film takes a diversity of forms—from film as rendition of past history to film as material for future history.
I expect to write mostly about the cinematic depiction of the past. Still, one should note that the film has become itself a historical source. Younger historians especially are turning to movies as a means of entry into the recent past. Two periodicals— Film & History and The Journal of Popular Film —tease historical meanings out of flickering images, much as historians of ancient Greece or China tease meanings out of potsherds and grave rubbings. The recent book American History/American Film , edited by J. E. O'Connor and M. A. Jackson (Frederick Ungar, 1979), presents a variety of styles of historical analysis.
Even traditional historians are willing to accept newsreels and documentaries as sources, but they remain dubious about fiction films. Yet on reflection the distinction between documentaries and dramas may not be all that clear cut. Both involve the selection and arrangement of images; selection and arrangement involve interpretation. Documentaries may even be the more treacherous, since the overlay of reality tends to conceal the manipulative purpose. Overtly fictional films at least warn their audiences that they are not literal representations of actuality. Yet fiction films cannot issue from the imagination alone. They are products of a particular place and time. Moreover, they are products of a collective process and are designed for a mass audience. Created by a crowd for a crowd, movies inescapably bear the imprint of the society that makes them.
On the most palpable level, they may serve as mirrors of their age. The Warner Brothers vernacular films of the 1930's, for example, are a treasure house for the historian, offering a gritty journalistic panorama of life, work, love, and death in the great city. Among other things, as a writer recently pointed out in the Village Voice , old films remind us what has happened to the dollar in the age of inflation—as when on the late show we view "such scenes as someone almost having a nervous breakdown over asking his boss for a $2 raise; two gangsters haggling over whether $75 is enough to charge for a rub out; someone leaping for joy because of a $5,000 inheritance and shouting, 'Now I'm fixed for life.' "
Movies are dream as well as reality. They embody an epoch's pervasive values, hopes, ambitions, anxieties, fears. "What films reflect," as Siegfried Kracauer wrote in From Caligari to Hitler , "are not so much explicit credos as … those deep layers of collective mentality which extend more or less below the dimensions of consciousness. " Analysis of deep layers is tricky, and Kracauer's argument that the German movies of the 1920's prophesied Nazism has excited much controversy. Nonetheless, properly deciphered, films have something to tell us not only about the surfaces but also about the depths of modern life.
This is film as evidence for history; there is also film as instruction in history. Films tell us about the past in several ways. As writers may reconstruct the past in forms ranging from the scholarly monograph through the synoptic overview to the historical epic or romance, so film makers can render history as documentary, as "docudrama," and as dramatization.
Documentary uses only authentic shots taken at the time, edits them, and adds a commentary and a musical score. The splendid Second World War series Victory at Sea is a memorable example; the Thames Television's fine The World at War is another. The "docudrama"—an ugly but precise word—mingles the appearance of a documentary with the reality of a dramatization. Its characters are historical figures, and the pretense is of factual accuracy; but the means is the staged re-enactment of historical events. The dramatization abandons any documentary pretense and uses literary invention and poetic license to reimagine the past, seeking less to get every fact right than to seize the essence of historical conflict and achievement.
The docudrama has had a considerable run on television in recent years. Some examples—"Eleanor and Franklin," for instance, and "The Missiles of October"—have won deserved admiration for a combination of dramaturgic skill with general fidelity to actual characters and events. (I remember seeing "The Missiles" in Theodore Sorensen's living room with other veterans of the missile crisis. The sight of actors labeled with the names of people in the room and not much resembling them provoked general hilarity; but I noticed that, once the drama got under way, the jokes ceased, and the group watched with intense interest.) Other docudramas, like the television biographies of Martin Luther King, Jr., Douglas MacArthur, and Senator Joe McCarthy, have been widely denounced as distortions of the historical record. Falsification in works professing documentary accuracy perpetrates a fraud on the public in a manner that dramatizations employing obviously made-up characters cannot do. If a docudrama is technically skillful enough, unwary viewers may even suppose they are seeing the real thing.
A British docudrama, recently released in the United States by ABC's excellent documentary division, shows how effective the informed and scrupulous re-enactment of the past can be. This is "Invasion," a portrayal of the Soviet assault on Czechoslovakia in 1968, produced by Granada Television and based on the testimony of Zdenek Mlynar, secretary of the Czech Communist Party Presidium under Dubcek. Mlynar recorded twenty-six hours of recollections, and the Granada research team thereafter verified and amplified the Mlynar account.
Most of the film is performed by professional actors. These sequences, filmed in color, are intercut with blackand-white newsreel footage from 1968, the contrast emphasizing the difference between dramatization and actuality. The writer, David Boulton, understood that the events themselves were quite powerful enough to carry the drama, so there is no hyping of tragedy by stridency or moralization. A sense of history combined with a talent for understatement gives the best British docudrama a distinctive flavor. One must hope that some American network will soon bring us the BBC's "Ireland: A Television History," written and narrated by the premier historian of modern Ireland, Robert Kee, and making impressive use of eyewitnesses; and the ITV "The Troubles," in which experts enliven the narrative by presenting discordant views on Irish problems.
As for the cinematic equivalent of the historical epic, a stunning example came to New York early this year; again, alas, from foreign shores. Abel Gance's Napoleon had its first showing in Paris over half a century ago. Its extraordinary technical innovations, including a triple-screen process that Gance called Polyvision, might have opened a new era; but the arrival of sound the next year sent film makers off in another direction, and Napoleon was a creative explosion that in the end created nothing. Various cut versions were put out in later years; the original score (by Arthur Honegger) and much original footage disappeared; and in due course the film became a minor but inaccessible legend. We owe its reconstitution to Kevin Brownlow, the film historian, and its presentation to Francis Ford Coppola. The bravura score by Carmine Coppola, the director's father, is remarkably appropriate.
Exhibited at the Radio City Music Hall in a four-and-a-half-hour version, with a symphony orchestra of sixty conducted by the elder Coppola, Napoleon was a major event in the New York winter. The vast space and the Art Deco gaudiness of the Music Hall provided an ideal setting for so magniloquent a creation, and blasé audiences found themselves bursting into applause at especially striking effects. After the score is recorded, the film is scheduled to go into national release. Even on smaller screens in smaller theaters, Napoleon should be an overwhelming cinematic experience.
As instruction in history, however, it is less edifying. Gance transforms history into myth through a fanatic grandiosity of conception. "Napoleon is Prometheus," he cries. Gance's Napoleon is not the sardonic realist, the man of shrewd decision and swift action, of whom Emerson said, "He knew what to do, and he flew to his mark. " He is rather an almost catatonic hero, a passive instrument of historical force, a mystical incarnation of destiny, at times with Hitlerian undertones.
Gance improves the record as unscrupulously as if he were Shakespeare. Everything is hyperbole, and history surrenders to opera. One memorable scene has Napoleon fleeing Corsica with the tricolor as sail in a skiff tossed by a tumultuous storm, all cross-cut with the roar and crash of a tumultuous debate at the Paris Convention. The effect is fantastic. Later Napoleon is rescued; a British frigate sights the rescue ship, and a junior officer proposes to sink it; "No, no, Nelson," his commander replies, provoking even the reverent Music Hall audience to laughter.
Americans can view Napoleon with detachment and celebrate it as an obsessed artistic triumph. Frenchmen see it as a passionate political statement. Some, like de Gaulle, were enraptured. Others fear that its man-of-destiny megalomania panders to a dangerous national proclivity—the one summed up by Raymond Aron when he wrote, "The Republic was so afraid of great men that it was forced, from time to time, to have recourse to saviors. "
Still Napoleon , like "Invasion," shows the opportunities the camera eye offers to history. One must hope that both works will inspire American film makers to apply some of these techniques to the rendition of the American past.


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Brooks, Oregon Sunset 2003
site is maintained by Stephenie Flora
The Settling of Oregon and Its Pioneers is my number one hobby and addiction. Visit my site and learn about early Oregon and the natives, explorers, fur traders, missionaries and pioneers that settled it. Includes pioneer lists through 1855, pioneer diaries, oregon trail information and a photo gallery of early pioneers.
Jory Family Cemetery with links to the Jory Family Association website and Jory Family history
Lee Mission Cemetery compiled by Sherrill Hochspeier, Jean Custer and Stephenie Flora in 1996 and updated regularly. Includes contact information for the cemetery, obituaries, plot maps and headstone photos.
Brooks Historical Society located at Brooks, Oregon on French Prairie in Marion County, Oregon
Whitman Massacre of 1847 compiled by Stephenie Flora
The Bartruff Family Past and Present by Stephenie Flora
Bewley Family Through The Decades by Stephenie Flora
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They are seven girls in their teens and early 20s, awake at the ungodly (for them) hour of 8:30 a.m. With sleepy smiles, the young women slip into a windowless conference room in a Washington, D.C., hotel to talk to a reporter, who's curious to find out: What's it like to be a global girl activist?
And they're the experts. They're supporters of the U.N. Foundation group called Girl Up, which has the manifesto of "uniting girls to change the world."
Girl Up fights for the rights of the 600 million adolescent girls of the developing world. Many of these rights we take for granted: going to school, receiving proper health care, living in safety and simply being counted at birth (because, for example, if you don't have official proof of a child's age, then how can governments fight against child labor?)
These seven Girl Up activists run clubs in their schools. They speak out in public forums and raise money for U.N. programs that help their cause. Since Girl Up began in 2010, the clubs have collected more than $100,000.
Being involved in Girl Up is a serious commitment of time and energy. But the girls want me to know that activism is also fun.
"We get into super girly talk," says Alexandra Leone, who co-founded a Girl Up club at her Pennsylvania high school. "We show each other pictures of hot guys," teases Gloria Samen of Potomac, Md. Then they get down to business: spreading the word about girls' issues.
Business brought them to the district in June. They were lobbying on Capitol Hill. "Girls just don't get as much resources and opportunities as men do," says Aklesiya Dejene, who emigrated from Ethiopia to Chicago two years ago. "I want to represent them."
In the freewheeling conversation, the young women shared their ideas about what the world's girls need. Carolina Lopez, who's from Sao Paulo, Brazil, but goes to school in Pennsylvania, wants them to have a chance to express themselves in sports. Rocio Ortega, a first-generation Mexican-American who lives in Los Angeles, agrees: "Sports is where girls can find their voice and self-confidence."
But boys can get in the way. When Lopez was in fourth grade, the boys she wanted to play soccer with went to her mom and said, "Can you please ask her to stop playing with us? She's bothering us." Lopez is still indignant: "I wasn't like catching the ball with my hands, or doing something I wasn't supposed to. I was just there because I wanted to play. I was humiliated."
Ortega visited girls in an Ethiopian refugee camp, and they had similar concerns. They told her: "We want our own space to play sports. We want our own basketball court without having to worry about boys playing next to us." Girl Up supports programs that provide sports venues for girls.
I walked four miles barefoot to get to school. You don't get to complain about not driving to school.
As the American-born daughter of Cameroonian immigrants, Gloria Samen is keenly aware of obstacles girls face in her own culture: "I grew up watching generations of silent women, women who were expected to stay home," she says. Even now, her father thinks she should change the channel on the TV as part of her daughterly duties — even though the remote is by his side. She wants girls to fight unfair expectations.
Samen raised $3,000 for Girl Up and is proud that the money makes a difference in the lives of girls in faraway places. "We're able to change the lives of girls we would never meet," she says. "This women's network is an unbreakable bond. I think it's so cool."
Sometimes the goal is to give girls the power to speak out. Girls in her country don't always want to "stand up and say their name," says Thandiwe Diego of Belize. She stumbled upon Girl Up on the Internet and started a club with the help of her mom. "They're really shy." And they can't always afford high school fees. So Diego and her mother encourage reticent girls to apply for scholarships. While in D.C., she got a joyful e-mail from her mom telling her that some girls had applied. It's a small but sweet success.
These seven activists know what it's like to face opposition. Jinwen Tung of China, now a student at Barnard, started a feminist-minded club in China. "Was it hard?" I ask. "Yes!" she declares. "Even my male classmates sometimes couldn't understand why women are so obsessed" with fighting for equality. "To them, it's just not necessary."
But she's an optimist. "I think today's boys are more able to put themselves in the shoes of girls," she says, especially if the girls of Girl Up "tell the boys" about the problems that girls face.
As for my curiosity about what it means to be a girl activist: I came away with the impression that it means living in two opposite worlds. All the girls are keenly aware of what it's like to have privileges and what it's like to face hardships. Gloria Samen sums it up with a story contrasting her life in the wealthy suburb of Potomac, Md., and her mom's girlhood in Cameroon.
On her first day as a high school senior, last September, Samen wanted to drive to school. "My mother was like, 'You can't take the car tomorrow because blah blah blah.' I was so annoyed. I had just got my license. She was like, 'Gloria, I walked four miles barefoot to get to school. I'd hold my shoes in my hand because I didn't want my shoes to get ruined in the mud, because if your shoes are ruined, your uniform is not complete. You don't get to complain about not driving to school.' "
Copyright 2021 NPR. To see more, visit https://www.npr.org.


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Madison's Red Bike Project
Bicycles are good on so many levels and since 1996 the Red Bike Project's mission is to encourage the use of bicycles by providing a zero cost transportation alternative to motor vehicles.
Budget Bicycle Center maintains a fleet bicycles as a public service to residents, students and visitors of Madison, WI. A credit card is required to check out a bike and lock. The cost is completely free when the bike is returned. All Red Bikes must be returned by the end of the season, typically set near the end of November. The bicycles are serviced by Budget Bicycle Center during the summer whenever service is needed, completely free of charge. Free service includes replacement of tires, tubes and brake pads and sometimes goes as far as replacement of the bicycle if it is beyond repair. The only maintenance required by the rider is checking the tire pressure once a week.
Community members donate additional bicycles each year to help balance the number of bikes lost the previous year. Budget Bicycle Center repairs, maintains and distributes the bikes from its 930 Regent Street location. Volunteers welcome new bikes to the program with a healthy coat of red paint and keep veteran Red Bikes looking great at the painting parties, the first two Saturdays in May. The entire fleet quickly gets checked out beginning in April. Because of the high demand there is a healthy turn over rate. Bikes are returned, quickly fixed, and checked out by the next person who wants one.
Red Bike Benefits:
- Save the cost of a parking permit
- Save the expense of gasoline
- Get some exercise and fresh air
- Help reduce air pollution
- Help reduce traffic congestion
- Have fun utilizing the best mode of transportation in Madison!!
- It's FREE!
All UW Madison students, staff, and faculty are encouraged to participate in the Red Bike Project.
The Red Bike Program offers reconditioned bikes that can be used not only on campus but in and around our community.


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Mac OSX users can make Firefox look like Safari using the GrApple theme that can be found here : http://www.takebacktheweb.org/
Safari is a pretty good browser, still there are some people like me who would like to use Firefox (www.mozilla.com). Safari users who would like to move to Firefox would be at home after installing this theme.
How to Install :
Go to site : http://www.takebacktheweb.org/
find the Mac OSX theme you like. Just click on the "Install Now" button for the theme you have selected.
Other option : From Firefox ->Tools->Themes-> Get New themes; This opens a new browser window for the addons.mozilla.org site. On the search box, search for GrApple. You will get the Mac OSX themes for Firefox.
Note : These themes only work on Mac OSX. If you are on Windows, just get a Mac 🙂