gderuiter's PhotoBlog

Peter Wentz Farmstead

2009-01-06T20:52:44Z

Today I took a student to this 18th-century farmstead in Lansdale, Pennsylvania where George Washington stayed before the Battle of Germantown during the American Revolution. It was a bleak day, but an interesting visit.

Not Everything Counted in the Census Was a Bird

2009-01-03T17:52:43Z

Some of the mammalian varieties spotted during the Winter Bird Census, part of which was obviously conducted near a farm.

Winter Bird Census 2009

2009-01-03T17:39:43Z

Today I joined a team of citizen scientists at the Schuylkill Center for Environmental Education in Philadelphia to take part in a bird count, recording data from the field for scientists studying regional and national bird populations. There were a number of species that we only heard and did not see, and not every bird I saw could I photograph, but this collection is a good representation of some of the highlights.

Happy New Year! (East Point Lighthouse, New Jersey)

2009-01-02T12:56:44Z

I gave this photo as a Christmas present this year to relatives of mine who have a hobby of making pilgrimages to lighthouses all around the country, but I don't think I ever posted it here. I took it during my World Series of Birding expedition last spring and thought it was a neat building. I put it up today as a symbol of my wish that with the guiding light of new leadership, my family and my country will be able to feel more hopeful in 2009. 2008 was just too damn hard. East Point Lighthouse, New Jersey from "Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Early Recollections of Childhood" by William Wordsworth . . . Hence in a season of calm weather Though inland far we be, Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither, Can in a moment travel thither, And see the children sport upon the shore, And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore. Then sing, ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song! And let the young lambs bound As to the tabor's sound! We in thought will join your throng, Ye that pipe and ye that play, Ye that through your hearts today Feel the gladness of the May! What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower; We will grieve not, rather find Strength in what remains behind; In the primal sympathy Which having been must ever be; In the soothing thoughts that spring Out of human suffering; In the faith that looks through death, In years that bring the philosophic mind. And O ye fountains, meadows, hills, and groves, Forebode not any severing of our loves! Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might; I only have relinquish'd one delight To live beneath your more habitual sway. I love the brooks which down their channels fret, Even more than when I tripp'd lightly as they; The innocent brightness of a new-born day Is lovely yet; The clouds that gather round the setting sun Do take a sober colouring from an eye That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality; Another race hath been, and other palms are won. Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears, To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears. Even through all the brokenness and worry, I continue to be moved by this world's beauty and humanity.

Punk Is Not Dead

2008-12-30T09:26:07Z

The piercings will be next.

Suburban Deer

2008-12-29T09:02:12Z

I went to visit a friend home for the holidays and was greeted by these faces in her back yard. The arrival of my car did nothing to discontinue their browsing for available grass, twigs, and foliage to nibble. After looking up at me, they went right back to their business.

Skytop, PA

2008-12-28T11:13:19Z

We're home from the mountains, where Extreme Eating became a new winter sport for our family. Seriously, the food was amazing, three times a day, and the lodge at Skytop was festive and cozy. Though many of the trails were too icy for hiking, I did take one hike to Indian Ladder Falls and include those photos here.

Like Prunes

2008-12-28T21:47:38Z

Testing Toys

2008-12-28T21:50:33Z

My Father Reads Us a Poem at Christmas Dinner

2008-12-28T11:39:14Z

This was the poem: Oh My God by Billy Collins Not only in church and nightly by their bedsides do young girls pray these days. Wherever they go, prayer is woven into their talk like a bright thread of awe. Even in the pedestrian mall outbursts of praise spring unbidden from their glossy lips.