NATURE AS ARTIST: HAWAII TROPICAL BOTANICAL GARDEN, Hilo, HawaII

Malay Rose at the Hawaii Tropical Botanical Garden, Hilo, Hawaii

One of our favorite places on the Big Island of Hawaii is the Hawaii Tropical Botanical Garden near Hilo, a treasure trove of tropical plants from around the world. We visit the garden every time we are in Hawaii and I have written about it numerous times on this blog. (See links below for reports and photos from previous trips.) 

The giant leaves of this fan palm explode in a geometrical pattern.

No matter how many times we visit, it is always a new experience depending on the weather, time of day, and the constantly changing growth cycle of the plants. On this trip I was struck once again by the incredible variety of nature-- from big to small, simple to complex, subtle to brilliant, patterns of all kinds—all juxtaposed in the lush background of the steep coastal canyon. It was hard to stop taking pictures, each one becoming another canvas in nature’s art gallery. Here are just a few of my favorites!

The flower on this plant is like a tiny, elegant vase complete with its own blossom

The basket fern encircles the trunk of a tree, like a giant green bowl.

The brilliant blossom on the powder puff tree is hard to miss.

 Look closely at the center of each bloom for what looks like a tiny face. This is just one of hundreds of varieties of orchids displayed throughout the garden.

A tiny lizard is hiding in this flower. Can you find it? It wasn't until I looked at the photo after I got home that I saw it.

These are among dozens of varieties of ginger displayed in the garden.

These leaves overlap one another like an abstract painting.

The dark dots and stripes almost seem to be painted on these leaves, as if they were made of  ceramic.

The colors of this heliconia bloom are almost glow-in-the-dark. The plants are sometimes called lobster claws.

I love how the names of the plants often reflect how they look. Not surprisingly, this flower is called cat's whiskers.

Tickets to enter the garden are purchased at the gift shop next to the parking area. An annex to the gift shop has interesting displays of items collected by the Lutkenhouse family (who built and founded the garden) that reveal some of the early history of the area. Dan and Pauline Lutkenhouse founded the garden in 1978 and opened it to the public in 1984. It is now operated as a non-profit corporation. Admission for a day is $25 for adults, children ages 6 - 16 are $12. Children under 6 are free.

Directions: The Hawaii Tropical Botanical Garden is located on the 4-mile scenic drive off of Highway 19 (turn off just after the 7 mile marker). The scenic route goes through dense rainforest. This side of the Big Island is the rainy side, and, in fact, there was a small shower just before we arrived at the garden on our recent visit. (The gift shop provides umbrellas if needed.) But, whatever the weather or time of day, the garden is always worth a visit.

Report of our visit in 2015: https://theintrepidtourist.blogspot.com/2015/05/hawaii-tropical-botanical-garden-hilo.html

Report from 2012: https://theintrepidtourist.blogspot.com/2012/04/hawaiis-big-island-hilo-side.html

CORMORANTS IN LA JOLLA, CA: The Perfect Place to See These Seabirds Up Close

Brandt's Cormorant, La Jolla, CA

If you are in San Diego and want a taste of nature, the half-mile cliff walk in La Jolla is the perfect place to go.  There you can view hundreds of birds roosting on the rocks and flying about above the cliffs, as well as playful sea lions frolicking in the water and basking on the rocks along the shore.  On a nice day (and these are what you expect when you go to Southern California!) you can see kayakers and paddle boarders enjoying the ocean as well.

Our most recent trip to La Jolla was in the spring of 2018 and as we walked along the cliff we looked down on hundreds of cormorant nests, busy with parents looking after their chicks. My brother Tom, who lives in San Diego, recently visited the cormorant colony again and got this terrific video of feeding time at the nest.

Defending the nest.

Cormorants are seabirds with mostly black feathers, long necks, and short stiff tails. They dive for fish in the ocean, using their webbed feet to speed through the water. Brandt’s cormorant is found only in North America, with a range extending from Alaska to Mexico. Breeding birds have a blue skin patch on their chins called the gular pouch.

Non-nesting cormorants and a few pelicans.

For more information about getting to the trail and where to park, go to this post at Natural Born Hikers. http://www.naturalbornhikers.com/trails/lajolla.html

A pair of cormorants waiting for their eggs to hatch. Both parents will care for the young.

MY TRAIN TRIP: Celebrating the 12th Anniversary of The Intrepid Tourist

In January 1951, when I was six, I went with my family on a short train ride from Minneapolis where we lived, to St. Paul on the other side of the Mississippi River. When we got home I wrote a report of the trip, in neatly printed letters on lined paper. It is my first travel writing--the beginning of a long life of writing down my travel experiences. On this twelfth anniversary of The Intrepid Tourist I’d like to share that report, along with a chapter from my memoir telling about the trip from today’s perspective.

The windows of our third floor apartment at the Northeast Neighborhood House faced Bottineau Park, where, beyond the chain link fence on the far side of the park, the tall brick building of Gluek’s Brewery rose above a web of train tracks.  All day long, big black engines chugged along the tracks blowing their whistles and belching smoke as they shifted cars from one siding to the other and pulled boxcars and flatcars from the mills, factories, and breweries of Northeast Minneapolis out of the city.  [Gluek’s Brewery, at Marshall Street and 22^nd Avenue, was torn down in 1966.]

Les and Kay Scheaffer, Caroline and Steve, 1948, in front of NENH 

My brother Steve, barely tall enough to see over the windowsill, loved watching the trains.  He wanted to be an engineer when he grew up. For Christmas in 1950, when he was three, he got a wooden Skaneateles train set with tracks, cars, and switches.  His favorite book was the story of Tootle, about the baby train who goes to train school to learn skills such as how to pull the dining car without spilling the soup, and most importantly, to always stay on the tracks—even when playing in the meadow might be more fun. [Tootle, written by Gertrude Crampton and illustrated by Tibor Gergely in 1945, is part of Simon and Schuster's Little Golden Books series. As of 2001, it was the all-time third best-selling hardcover children's book in English. (Publisher’s Weekly, Dec 17, 2001)]

Milwaukee Road Train Depot, Minneapolis

On January 4, 1951, Steve and I and our parents took a long anticipated train trip to St. Paul—a short but thrilling ride across the Mississippi River to Minneapolis’ Twin City. Our brothers, Tom and Pete, ages one and two, were too young to appreciate the trip and stayed home with Gladys, our live-in babysitter. The weather outside was cold but clear as we drove from Northeast Minneapolis to the Milwaukee Station downtown. At the ticket window we purchased our tickets, which, according to my account, cost 14 cents each, presumably the pro-rated portion of the Minneapolis to Chicago fare. Our train was the Hiawatha, a sleek streamliner with bright orange and maroon cars, named after Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s famous poem.

Hiawatha Train Engine

The train was waiting outside under the roof of the iron train shed. We boarded at the club car in the rear and walked the length of the train, passing through the parlor cars, private rooms, dining cars, until finally we reached our coach. We settled into our seats after pushing the buttons to tilt them just right and got ready for the noon departure. Then with a bump and shudder and clang along the tracks the train began to move out of the station. The tracks hugged the banks of the Mississippi underneath tall bluffs before crossing over a bridge to the St. Paul station. The total ride: 30 minutes.

By the time we got to St. Paul we were hungry so we hailed a taxi for a ride to a large department store for lunch in the dining room. Afterward, we shopped for souvenirs and gifts for Tom, Pete and Gladys before walking back to the station. In the station lobby, Steve and I were fascinated by a huge model train display where tiny engines circled on tracks through a miniature town.

Our trip back to Minneapolis was in one of the new Vista-Dome Zephyr cars of the Burlington train line. Its glass-topped seating area provided panoramic views of the passing scenery. We climbed the stairs and crowded into one of the double seats. The rest of the Vista-Dome was filled with a Scout troop--kids and their parents--also on a day excursion. I should have been excited about riding in the Vista-Dome, but according to my mother’s account of the trip, I asked to leave and go downstairs to the less crowded seats so I could work on my new embroidery set—my souvenir for the trip.

Steve’s souvenir was a miniature village set, complete with tiny train and tracks. In my mother’s account of the trip she says:  “He came home and asked for a piece of string. I wondered what for–and it was to hitch the wagon onto the bike–to be a station baggage truck. He filled the wagon high with baggage and was very happy reliving what he had seen.” Clearly Steve had absorbed every detail of our trip to St. Paul. He didn’t grow up to be a train engineer, although for a time he had a job as a bus driver. He has always been interested in vehicles and mechanical things and how they work.

Milwaukee Road Train Shed

The Milwaukee Road Railroad Depot has not had train service since 1971. While many of the surrounding neighborhood buildings have been torn down for urban redevelopment, including the Great Northern Station of the Burlington Line, the Depot has been preserved as a historic building and been converted to a hotel and restaurant; in winter it houses an ice skating rink. When I was growing up, the train stations in downtown Minneapolis were a transportation hub. Now, on my visits to Minneapolis, when I drive by the old Milwaukee Road Depot and look at the iron fretwork supporting the roof of the Train Shed, it brings back memories of my long ago train trip with my family to St. Paul. Someday I’ll have to go back in the winter and skate under the shed.

*****

From my mother’s account of the train trip:

            We returned to Minneapolis in the Vista-Dome Zephyr–which was really exciting for Stevie–Caroline enjoyed the outing in her own way. We happened to come back with a Scout Troop–about thirty kids and ten parents doing the same jaunt. I thought Caroline would be interested in them, but she wanted to leave the crowded Vista-Dome--where we were all in one seat–to a seat below where she could embroider. Her souvenir was an embroidery set–so much to Les’ disgust I showed her the backward outline stitch and she’s been busy at it every waking minute since. She does nice work too. (Kay’s letter to her mother, Jan 5, 1951)

THE BROKEN PITCHER by William Adolphe Bouguereau, at the LEGION OF HONOR ART MUSEUM, San Francisco

The Broken Pitcher by William Adolphe Bouguereau, 1891

When I was growing up, the walls of our house were decorated with prints of paintings by famous artists--The Flower Seller by Diego Rivera, Bridge at Arles by Vincent Van Gogh, Snowy Egret by John James Audubon. My father loved art and after he retired from his career as a social worker, he became a docent at the Legion of Honor art museum in San Francisco. One day he brought home a poster of one of the paintings in the museum's permanent collection, The Broken Pitcher by William Adolphe Bouguereau. We had no more room in the house for art, so we hung the poster in the garage over the washing machine, where it stayed for many years. With every load of laundry, I gazed into the young girl's sad eyes, wondering what her life might have been. 

Paintings and silver tea set at Legion of Honor museum.

On a recent visit to the museum I had the chance to see the original painting, hung in a room with other 19th century paintings along with decorative arts of the time, and it brought back memories of my father's years as a docent. One of his roles was to lead tours, pointing out interesting facts about the artists and paintings. Here is what he had to say about The Broken Pitcher.

Gallery talk by Lester Scheaffer

If this gallery were a salon of the late 19^th century, you would see many more paintings like the one before us, “The Broken Pitcher,” than  the ones that hang in this gallery. There were two reasons—it conformed with the standards of The French Academy, and it was pleasing to a great many buyers of art.

This painting by Adolphe Bouguereau was done in 1891. While the hand of The Academy was not quite as firm in the 1890s as it was in the third quarter of the century, the basic criteria for acceptable painting was still present—restraint, simplicity, and balance. Experimental paintings were flatly rejected, the artist reviled. This is what happened to the Impressionists. Patrons from the middle class, the bourgeoisie, were attracted to paintings that were 1. ostentatious; 2. That told a story; 3. That did not violate their sense of morality; and 4. That these characteristics show on the surface—that is, nothing too subtle.

This painting is certainly balanced and it is centered. It ha a bit of the classical feeling, reminders of the old days, with the architectural design of the stone well, a suggestion of classical ruins in the background, and above all, the orderliness of the composition. The composition is truly linear, no problem whatever in following the lines of the drawing. The subject matter is sentimental and moralistic. The broken pitcher symbolizes this young girl’s loss of virginity, about which she is perplexed and anxious—“What do I do now?” 

Detail, The Broken Pitcher by Bouguereau.

Her big puppy dog eyes look out at us appealing for an answer. How could a viewer or a buyer not react favorably to a painting like this, at least the buyers of the 19^th century.

One person who reacted in the opposite way to Bouguereau, according to a story, was Auguste Renoir, the Impressionist. On being fitted for a new pair of glasses to correct his myopia, he threw them on the floor crying, “My God, I see like Bouguereau!”

If one had asked Bouguereau how he felt about Renoir and his friends, he probably would have said, “The feeling is mutual.”

Notes: Bouguereau  (1825-1905)–studied at the Ecole des Beaux Arts, Prix de Rome 1850, great technical skill, slick painting but soft style, technically his paintings hold together, could paint any subject desired by the buying public, commercially successful in both Europe and the US.

 

At the Legion of Honor Art Museum, San Francisco, CA