Harvesting Berries

Blueberries are on sale (already!) up here and sudden curiosity prompted me to ask the question: how are these obviously tremendous quantities of berries picked and packed? You got to watch this! And you got to show this to my grandkids, who all have picked their handfuls of berries from the bushes up here. Have a great weekend!



The hardest labor must be the moving of the full crates at the exit end of the machine. Next comes the maintenance of the machine. The rest probably is in shade, inside cooled sheds and barns and warehouses.

Strawberries - now that is something entirely different! That still has some of the traditional harvesting air in it.

Technology = Progress?

The men said good bye with much shaking of hands and with great smiles and congratulatory exclamations. On the wall in the hallway they had mounted a wooden box with a black wire hanging out from the bottom and at the other end of that wire there was a black thing that looked like the free end of a very large recorder and it hung in a metal fork that was attached to the side of the box. Under that fork there was a small hand crank. On top of the box there were two silver bells, just like the ones on top of the big alarm clock on Pips' night table. There even was that hammer visible between the two bells, again exactly like on the alarm clock.

Mims explained to us that this new thing was the telephone we had heard so much talk about at the dinner table and now we had our own. She went right on to demonstrate its use: with the left hand she lifted that black thing off the hook and pressed it to her ear and with the right hand she gave a few quick cranks to that handle on the side of the box. The bells on top rang shrilly.

Then, nothing happened. Again, she gave a few quick cranks, and after two or three more cycles like these her eyes suddenly opened wide and she talked into a round hole in the front of the wooden box with a black mat over it. And a smile came over her face and she adjusted the black bakelite thing on her ear and we heard half a conversation, each section of her part responded to by a squawking sound issuing from the ear piece in her left hand. We later learned that she had talked to a lady sitting in an office in town in front of a switchboard and had learned from her all the names of the neighbors who also had a telephone installed and if we wanted to, we could talk to each one of them perhaps even to several of them at the same time, without having to walk over to their houses or waiting to meet them on market day. All we had to do is call Mabel at the switchboard by ringing the bell and she would "plug us right through". It got better than that: if Mims need to talk to someone who was not home, Mabel would plug into each and every phone within her reach until she found Mims party. You should see what such a switchboard looked like: and it is the same technology that IBM used decades and decades later for the programming panels of their early commercial computers.

Mabel is the lady in the center. She got promoted to this bigger setup as the local telephone network grew. In her beginning, she had just one of those boards to work and her file was a little box an the desk next to her right elbow.

Later, in school, we learned about the principles that make a phone work. The teacher also demonstrated a practical application that we could try ourselves and when we got home that day we asked Mims to save us an empty can. We cut the bottom out and stretched a piece of parchment over it, holding it around the can with a tight rubber band and then wetted the parchment and set it in the open window in our bedroom to dry. My friend Walter had been doing the same thing and next day after school we strung a string from his window to ours across the street. The war was still going on and there was no problem about stringing strings across roads because there was no traffic and the string was higher than people walking there. And nobody wore any top hats anymore.

With this arrangement we had our own telephone from Walter's room to ours. When we saw him talking into his can we would hold ours near our ears and we could hear Walter talk. Not clearly, but talk, nevertheless. When we switched our can in front of our mouths, Walter would put his to his ear.

Then we moved to the city and there we had a phone that was much smaller than that wooden box out in the country. It had a round disk on it and holes in the disk and behind each hole, fixed to the phone box, were the numbers 1 through 0 and in a cradle on top of the phone was a combined ear-and mouth piece, somewhat heavy, but still movable within the reach of the wire with which it was attached to the phone box. Now you did not have to stand facing the wall and talk into that black hole  in the front of that wooden box anymore. We could dial the phone we wanted to reach and needed no Mabel to connect us to our party. Of course, if the party did not pick up their end of the line, all we would get is ring-rinnnnng, ring-rinnnng. Ad infinitum.

Things moved rapidly upwards in unrestrained fashion until, one  evening, Pips gathered us around the table and explained to us the telephone bill. He showed us all the short and the long calls we had made to our friends across town after we had sat next to them in school and had played with them for hours after school and he suggested that after all that time together and with the prospects of getting more of the same the next day it was not clearly understood why we had to spend all this additional time on the phone, where each minute cost! So, we learned to economize phone conversation, and rationalize conversation overall.

Things continued to swing upward continually. There were phones in booths all over town where you could make calls anytime you wanted if you had the small change ready; the phones got better so you could clearly hear and understand what was being said at the other end of your line. If you needed to look up a number, there were thick telephone books that listed every phone number anywhere in the country. There we some problems also, like connections would be dropped or you could listen to the conversation of strangers whose line was crossing yours but there were no real problems getting a phone connection. Vandalism that caused these public phone booths to disappear was not yet known.

Then came a period of political changes and to show how much the welfare of the country was at the heart of the popular representatives the congress of one country where this technology was being held in an absolute leadership position invoked a law guaranteing businesses an environment of fair competition and under this law they forced the largest phone company to split up into smaller pieces and to sell these smaller pieces off to the highest bidder. There shall be no monopoly, they cried. It is bad for competition!

Re-imagine the situation in the early days of rail roads: every railroad company protected his tracks like the apple of his eyes, their exupmeunt was not allowed over to the competitor's line, often even the rail gages were different and rolling equipment was physically not capable of running on the competitor's track. This kind of conditions was our telecommunication reduced to after congress had pushed their will through the courts.

Observation of the progress in communication technology became an exercise in frustration. New technology was still developed in that same country where they enforced littleness, but the greatness coming out from the engineers' desks and their laboratories was exported to foreign countries and it took years to find fertile ground for it back home. Just one current example: back some 25 to 30 years ago cell phones could exchange information with each other or with machines, just by typing brief code and being pointed at each other by their owners. You could point your phone at a soda machine and get a soda, the cost being billed via your phone subscription. You could walk by the post office and pick up stamps for your letters the same way: type a code, point and click, &ct. This is 'emerging' technology in your neighborhood only now. Apple is experimenting with this via Apple Pay, but the range is limited in things you can buy with your phone and places where you can do it. We got to be careful with this, you know, this is so brand new and who knows what can come of it? It has been practiced in Europe, and, probably, in China and in India and in Australia and Japan for just some 30 years, but the air here - we just don't know. Cellphones themselves, back then: we visited Germany and found most everybody carrying their phone in the pocket. And they could not understand that we found these little things so marvelous. We came back and it took another few years before our president called us all together at the company where I worked, dramatically pulled his cell phone out of his pocked, explained what it was and declared that we all would get one issued and he said authoritatively: "and you will use your phone in lieu of the phones in your motel when you travel. Sometimes," he said, "you might have a weak signal but you will drive just two to five miles and have the signal to make your call". "Anywhere in the United States" he added. I took my new phone and went on a trip to Joplin, Missouri and I needed to make a phone call and there was no signal. I reasoned that perhaps a larger city would have better coverage, hopped into my rental car and drove towards Tulsa, OK. Every two or three miles along the Interstate Highway I pulled over to confirm that there still was no signal. Then I came to the State border and a sign that read "Last Exit before Toll" and I decided that my president could not have meant it that insistently and drove home, made my phone calls from the comfort of my motel room.

So we stick stick to what we know and that, today, is hard wire technology and cell phone technology. The phones have gotten better and bigger and we can now not only talk and listen, we can play games and buy things via our credit cards and get all kinds of information via the web; we can take pictures and send and receive e-mails and text messages. But:

My carrier has put out a map that promises cell phone signal to cover my house and even my pasture down to the wood line. But don't depend on this map. There is no signal here. You got to go out to find it! Last year I could sneak behind a neighbor's barn and there, at the corner, facing the prevailing wind, I could sometimes pick up a couple of bars. This year I have not tried. The neighbor passed away and his heir, or heiress, does not appear to like catering to the needs of her new neighborhood. So I drive to the nearest town if I need to call, some 10 miles for the benefit of five bars.

In between, for the last two years, after complaining to my carrier about selling me a service that does not exist and compelling me to keep that service for years based on a legally enforcable contract, they gave me a technological marvel that can pick up a telephone signal which does not really exist in this area and translate it into actual human talk. For two years it worked like the proverbial charm. This year it went 'off line'. There is a conflict between the cellphone carrier and the owner of the landlines here. The owner of the landlines has bought a monopoly *) on wired telecommunication and there is no understanding **) between them and my cellphone carrier. The wonderful gismo that let me use my phone last year does not work anymore. One suggestion is to replace it at a high cost with no guarantee that the thing will then work again. And so on.

Yesterday, I noticed that my landline also went dead: not even a ring tone. I drove to town and saw the telephone crew working on the road side and figured that somebody had taken down a pole during the night and after the new pole is up things return to normal. This morning - still no ring tone! I drove to town to call my telephone company on the competitor's cell phone signal and was promised that they would trace the problem and have it fixed not any later than by six o'clock tonight! That's service. But the first question I was asked when I connected with them and after I had given them assurances that I was who I claimed I am: "do you have an alternate number to call 911, if you need to?" Of course I had not - contemplate the implications, if you will. I received a call confirming that my line was functional again by about 9:00 o'clock. 1-1/2 hours to trace the problem and fix it: a component located at 'the central office' in my line had failed and they had replaced it. No cost to me! Imagine.

So, that is the state of telecommunication technology today: great and accomplished, but unstable to a degree that it is scary to think about how dependent we are on it. If you live in one of our great cities, I sure your only thought is that I should quit my griping.

*) For thoughts on 'monopoly' see above, 9th paragraph.
**) for an analog situation, see the thoughts about early railroads in the 10th paragraph.

Jet d'Eau

Of course I expect that the subject I present here will turn all conversations in this same direction. 
I was prompted to access this web page while reading a section of the memoirs of Madame de Staël, her subject in that section having to do with Napoleon's displeasure with her. 
Thus, sending you the technical details of this amazing fountain in Geneva is a perfectly logical development of thought. 
Many years before Madame, John Calvin found refuge in Geneva, and that should make the city a subject of special interest to almost all of my friends. Myself, I confess to be a follower of Martin Luther, if the confession to Christ requires one to be a follower of any mortal man. But to my worldly mind, John Calvin, with his extreme interpretation of the "laws" expressed in the New Testament, has rendered Geneva unfit for human habitation. Yet, the place is not only populated by natives, but the world is flocking there to so many of our revered global institutions that have placed their headquarters there. Even science finds a main seat there, although it is underground and known as the CERN accelerator. I formed this opinion about inhabitability as a young man several decades ago, when I found that city ordinance requires the sidewalks to be rolled up at 9:00 PM, at a time when a young man begins to come alive. My actual exposure to life in Geneva - night or day - ended in the late 1950’s, so it may well be that things have changed to admit more sunlight to form the almost permanent rainbow of this amazing 'jet d'eau'.

In the Actions of Women

“It must be confessed, that in the actions of women, there is always a little coquetry, and that the greater part of their very virtues are mixed with the desire of pleasing, and of being surrounded by friends, whose attachment to them is heightened by the feeling of obligation.”

Excerpt From: Madame de Staël. “Ten Years' Exile / Memoirs of That Interesting Period of the Life of the Baroness De Stael-Holstein, Written by Herself, during the Years 1810, 1811, 1812, and 1813, and Now First Published from the Original Manuscript, by Her Son.” iBooks.
This material may be protected by copyright.

That was the view some two hundred years ago. And it lasted very many years towards the present. How do today's female candidates for 2016 fit that rather nice picture? - oh, come on, that has nothing to do with the male camp!

Musings on Modern Communication (Chatting with Laurie)

I tried using the e-mail password. Thanks, is appears it worked and I posted a little chat with Tiiu. However, while the blog 'let me in', a message appeared saying 'The password for blogger.com is different. Do you wish to reset it?' Of course I would, but there was no field to input any updated or other password, but the blog was open and ready to receive my wishes. So I just went on and posted that little thing I texted to Tiiu. If the atmosphere in Facebook were different, this would really be one piece of status. More expressive than most that one gets to see. But I guess this is not done in that environment. Sometimes I have the feeling that anything over ten words does not get any attention there. So I do not like Facebook as a real means of communication. With e-text it is the same feeling but there I simply rebel. E-text is a personal message addressed to one or several recipients who I think would be receiving on the same wavelength as the one on which the message is sent. Generally, a thought can be formulated in very few words. I can say "today it is really cold out there" and seven words have told you of my current view about the temperature out there. But it does not give you much color, does it? Why do I feel it is really (!) cold, and what is the 'out there' where I would presumably prefer to find warmer temperatures? The seven words might or might not make you curious. In the former case you would begin to speculate on possible expansions of the thought and probably fail, because you'd have no guide by which to direct your speculations. In the latter case you'd simply drop it because it was not able to stir your interest and by dropping it you take all the worth out of me having sent it in the first place. And so I rebel against the ways modern communication is used and the way it is shaped and the effect it has so very often to make itself so very superficial.
Perhaps out of these sentiments comes my satisfaction with just spending time with myself and spinning my thoughts out to myself.

Spring Takes Hold of the Trees All Over the Valley (Chatting with Kaarin)

The night brought a low of 48 degrees, but by the time I got out and about it was 51 and right now it has warmed up to 52. I went outside and found a fine drizzle coming down and I froze like ten naked men in a medieval castle (note: the original expression was modified in view of the changed ethnic sensitivities in some English speaking areas). So my stay outside was rather short.
What I cannot understand is why I do not find the warm jacket you and I bought a year and a half ago on the way up to watch the roof come. I was thinking I had left it here when I came down from the mountain last Fall, knowing that I had another one down there and expecting to have one in each place. When you look for forgotten things in the house some time in the future, would you look for that also? I might get caught in a snow storm before I start the trek down again and need one of them. Remember it is the blubbery black one. The brownish more stylish one I would like to keep in Gb because I probably will need it more often there, come Winter again.
Speaking about forgotten things: when I unpacked here, I found a veritable mountain of 'dirty' sweat- and T-shirts, but no dressy or semi-dressy short sleeve shirts, so I went to church with a long sleeved dress shirt and - gosh it was a hot day! That problem, though, was sholved. WalMart had what looks like OK-to-show-in-public shirts for under 15 bucks each. Two of them a actually Wranglers and all I need is a horse to make them feel in place. You do not need to put shirts on your list to pack, and the jacket - just let me know if you found it and perhaps Iivo can haul it up, since he does not include the Ozarks and Illinois in his itinerary when he comes up here in August. And if I do not have that jacket - no big deal. I have the fleecy you gave me for Christmas and that will keep me safe al long time ⛄️
Chip just pulled his camper to the basement door which means that he and Brenda will be gone this weekend. Who is there to play with then? Talking to Jason, he told me about Clyde Twitchell up on the mountain. That is not that nice young man we met at the Whitingham transfer station but his father. There is also another son living in the little ranch next to the old farm and then there is a third son living on Goodnow road with his property abutting to the back of his father's. Yet, with all sons and their wives and his grandchildren living almost all within walking distance, the (94 years) old man is living alone and none of them comes visiting except the son who lives next door, once a week in the morning on his way to work. The conversation on those occasions is restricted to a few minutes, just to make sure the old man is still around, says Jason. I think I might go and knock at his door some day. He is said to have problems hearing and that should create a feeling of affinity between him and me. We'll see what comes of it.
Last Sunday when I went to the cemetery I sat on the bench for a moment and immediately the local no-seeums came to accept the free offerings. Even though I was overdressed - see above - they still found enough seats at the table on my hands and in my face so I could not sit but a few seconds to put down the flowers, say Hello and to take that picture. I'm still itching and in response I have put only two of the garden chairs out on the deck and have used them only for very brief periods during this last week - one to sit on and one for my feet. As long as the wind blows briskly over the deck, things are alright, but when the leaves stop rustling, watch out!
Oh, yes - the leaves. There were almost none a week ago - the willows were green, but almost nothing else. That has changed so fast, the last few days you could stand on the deck and watch Spring take hold of the trees all over the valley. The temp has now risen to 57 and the sun is chewing its way through the clouds. I think I go out to enjoy things a little.
'nuff chat for now. More later.

Happy Mother's Day to you all!

The Dam Busters, released in 1955

See if you can catch this film from Netflix: The Dam Busters, released in 1955. It is a WW2 movie, but rather than perpetuating the thoughts of what happened more than 70 years ago, I would like to have my grandchildren see a wonderful example of applied engineering and physics. I saw this movie some fifty years ago and it is still part of my fondest reminders of what the application of our most basic sciences can do. What our schools do is teach the rules, but they fail to open the student's eyes to the practical application (OK, so hear is Pytagoras. So what? What can you do with it?). I still feel that, if we could teach our children the USE of what we expect them to learn, we would have an easier task to get them to study and remember.

I guess the difficulty I have in expressing my thoughts on this theme amply clarifies the problems our school systems have to apply the thoughts to teaching masses of teachers, and greater masses of students.

Other thought: I closed all windows and doors with the exception of a couple of windows 'cracked' up in the loft to let in at least some fresh air. The dripping nose has come to order! This 'fresh mountain air' is for the birds!

Good night to you all!

The Bluebird Story

5/8/15, 1:43 p.m.
Went to town for gas, came home and mowed the grass. Went for an inspection tour around the pond and through the woods. All is well. 

Around noon,  planted three bluebird nesting boxes at three fence posts near the deck. These are boxes Lulu and Bill built some thirty years ago. Lulu took them in somewhere around ten years ago. Now, just one and one half hour after putting them out again, there are already two 'interested parties' bustling about. I will get nothing done for the rest of the day. The show is too captivating. 

Update, 5/13/15, 7:12 a.m.

From the deck, the bluebird story looks like it came to an end before it really got started. They came and looked the houses over, much like Ema and I used to do: 'Oh, look, a new house! Let's go and see what it is like'. And never a thought to buy. 

They hang around and fly off after a while, they might sit on the house roofs and sing and meet and look at each other, but they don't seem to nest. They are here rather seldom. 

At least one website claims that boxes should be put out in this area in March, so I think our bluebirds up here already have settled in for the summer and will not move any more until they head south again. I give them a few more days and then I go and look inside the boxes. Stay tuned.

Family

Hi, again, Olivia!

While I was at it, I thought I send you a picture of your great-great-grandmother, Karolina Luisa Sitterding, i.e. your dad's great-grandmother, my own grandmother and my dad's mother. Isn't she beautiful? 

I estimate that this picture is just about 100 years old. There is another picture of her when she was much younger and I think of her as the most beautiful woman of all - excepting, of course, you 😌 

Perhaps this old shot fits into your collection? Would you want the same kind of reproduction of aunt Kaarin's grandparents? I tried 'shooting' them but was unsuccessful because the glass over those photos is reflecting too much. I'll try some other options if you want those pictures in the same form.

Hugs, Opa