Volo Bog State Natural Area

Posted on May 29, 2025 by admin

Not a sign that you see very often.

Unless you visit Volo Bog State Natural Area often. It is “the only open-water quaking bog in Illinois,” according to the Illinois DNR, and I’m inclined to believe it, though sad to say my grasp of the scientific difference between a bog, marsh and a swamp is weak. Still, as a pleasant spring day, we figured Sunday was a good time to re-visit the bog, up northwest, about a 45-minute drive.

It had been a while. But I can say that the trail still wobbles a bit, which still takes a few minutes’ getting used to.

” ‘It’s moving,’ I heard either Lilly or Rachel say ahead of me, since they were first to reach the trail, which is a boardwalk over the bog,” I wrote in May 2010. “The boardwalk’s wobble is a little unnerving at first, but before long you get used to it. For anyone over about three years old, anyone who is sober anyway, the danger of pitching into the bog is pretty low.”

It’s moist down there. I’d expect no less of a bog. I know that much, anyway.

“Formed in an ancient glacial kettle hole lake, Volo Bog features a floating mat of sphagnum moss, cattails and sedges surrounding the open pool of water in the center of the bog,” the DNR says. “Further from the open water, the mat thickens enough to even support floating trees!”

The open pool.

The public land at Volo Bog includes more than just the bog. A path loops around the property in parts that are a little less sloshy underfoot.

It takes a while, but when the full flush of spring comes to the North, it’s exuberant.

A modest but elegant building, a barn homage, houses the visitor center. Closed.

Bird apartments. Or maybe bats.

Tip of the hat (if I had a hat) to the Nature Conservancy, whose actions in the late ’50s preserved the bog. The organization has done the same for 119 million acres of land over six decades, E&E News reports, citing the organization itself.

The Bridgehouse Museum, Chicago

Posted on May 28, 2025 by admin

Vexillologists, I understand, are fond of the Chicago flag. So are the people of Chicago. I’ll go along with them on that.

Walking along the Chicago Riverwalk last Friday, how could I say no to this?

By happy chance, I’d arrived at the Bridgehouse Museum, whose entrance is on the Riverwalk level on the Chicago River next to Michigan Avenue bridge, on a free admission day.

Actually not next to the bridge. The museum is part of the bridge, consisting of one of the four bridgehouses at each corner of the Michigan Avenue bridge, which houses the Machine Age equipment that raises and lowers part of the bridge. In full, it is the McCormick Bridgehouse & Chicago River Museum.

The museum tells the story of the bridge, completed in 1920, and the Chicago River, which has the distinction (among others) of having its course reversed by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers in 1909, during the heroic age of American civil engineering. The story arc of the Chicago River is that of a modern urban river beginning as a sluggish, marshy stream in pre-settlement times that gave way to periods as an open sewer and home to a welter of commercial docks and warehouses; long periods of unhealthy levels of pollution and its abandonment (mostly) as a working river; and more recent efforts to remediate the waters.

Mr. Dooley on the river as it was: “Twas the prettiest river f’r to look at that ye’ll iver see …. Green at th’ sausage facthry, blue at th’ soap facthry, yellow at th’ tannery, ye’d not thrade it f’r annything…”

The challenge posed by the river to the free movement of vehicles and pedestrians in downtown Chicago was solved by a raft of bridges, most of which are bascule, as is the one at Michigan Ave. The river sees the life of the city along its shore and on its bridges, and it has seen death, such as the almost comic collapse of the Rush Street bridge under the weight of cattle in 1863 and the nightmarish capsizing of the pleasure vessel Eastland in 1915.

The museum consists of five floors, each a smallish room connected by concrete steps. Brick walls and battleship gray floors form the dominate color palate of the place. There is a fair amount to read and images to see, with each room covering a different subject, such as the bridge itself and the ecology of the river.

A door from the first-floor room leads to a view of some of the steel equipment that makes the bridge move, such as this massive pinion.

Not everyone likes reading at museums, but I do. You just have to be selective. Some bridge facts.

A display about a time the Chicago River caught fire. Cleveland shouldn’t be the only place known for that, though of course the incident at the Cuyahoga was recent enough to be on TV news.

Antique bridge equipment.

Small windows in the bridgehouse offer large views, especially from the top levels.

The other three bridgehouses are visible, for one thing. Then I wondered: why four and not two, since the bridge has two leaves that are raised and lowered? Later, I found out that each leaf is actually two separate sections, divided in the middle of the road, so in fact there are four parts being raised and lowered in unison.

There are two reasons, I understand. One is that each quarter section is lighter, and thus easier to move. Another consideration is what happens when a ship hits the bridge — an incident apparently more common in the 1920s than now, with a higher volume of ship traffic on the river in those days. Even if the damaged section has to be raised for repair, its companion on the same side of the bridge can (probably) stay in place, so the bridge wouldn’t need to be completely closed, which would be disruptive indeed for the city.

All in all, a good little museum. I made a small donation. One complaint, though — and I see this much more than I used to — no postcards at the gift shop. Note cards, yes. But not postcards. If there had been reproductions of this one, I would have bought at least one.

The Chicago Riverwalk

Posted on May 27, 2025 by admin

Noon, Friday, May 23, 2025, on the Chicago River.

Recently I saw another old acquaintance, in a way. Officially, the water cannon that shoots across the Chicago River on the hour for five minutes at a pop during the warm months of the year is the Nicholas J. Melas Centennial Fountain. The bridge off in the distance is where Lake Shore Drive crosses the river.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen the fountain, but see it I did at some point, because the jet has been arcing across the river for more than 35 years.

Operated by the Metropolitan Water Reclamation District of Chicago, the fountain was built to celebrated the district’s centennial and named for a district functionary. Chicago architect Dirk Lohan – who has a great spy or private eye or assassin name – designed the thing. I was glad to learn that he’s still alive.

By Friday the weather was finally spring-like, clear and warmish, and I took the opportunity to stroll along most of the length of the Chicago Riverwalk, which has a good view of the water cannon. I had some time before meeting an old friend for lunch on Michigan Avenue, so I though it was high time I took that stroll.

I used to go downtown every weekday, but that hasn’t been the case since 2005 – just about the time that the first section of the riverwalk was completed. Other sections have been added since then. Counting a few brief visits over the last 20 years, and a walk along the western section, I’d rarely gotten around to a long stroll along the river, especially the eastern section (east of Michigan Ave.).

As public space infrastructure goes, I have to say that the city did a nice job. I started at the Vietnam Veterans memorial, which isn’t far west of Michigan Avenue on the south bank of the river. In fact, all of the riverwalk in on the south bank.

The fact that the Riverwalk is close to the river enhances the views, I believe.

An old favorite.

Once known as the IBM Building. That’s what I call it anyway. A Mies van der Rohe design. If you’re going to do modernism, that is the way to do it.

Now that I’ve seen the Burj Khalifa, I can appreciated a little better other works by Adrian Smith. No need to mention the building name.

As the day before a holiday weekend, and a spring-like one at that, people were out and about. A half-dozen tour boats at least buzzed by while I was walking.

The walk also provided underviews of Chicago River bridges, such as under Michigan Ave.

Under Columbus Dr.

Cool. Even better if the city painted the steel and iron in various bright colors. They could then be promoted as something unique to Chicago, encouraging tourists to come and Instagram them.

Raj Ghat, Delhi

Posted on May 22, 2025 by admin

Still a chill in the air here in Illinois, but a bit warmer, so we’re on a slow climb back to real spring. Back to posting on May 27. In its float around late May, Memorial Day is four days earlier than Decoration Day this year.

Chilly, maybe, but that hasn’t discouraged the back yard irises.

A gift from a neighbor last year – some bulbs that we planted in the patch of land that, decades ago, had been a garden. That isn’t quite what I’d call it now. More of a back yard feature whose greenery towers over the ordinary lawn grass.

Not just irises. On the other side of the yard:

Raj Ghat was one of the first places we went in India. Its centerpiece is a memorial dedicated to Gandhi, in the middle of a large green square surrounded by walls. The black marble platform marks the spot of his cremation on January 31, 1948.

Outside the walls is more green space. A popular spot for school groups, looks like.

Nearby is the National Gandhi Museum. Considering that he’s Father of the Nation, not many people were there, but I suppose school groups show up regularly to enliven the place. Overall, the memorial seemed to be more of a draw.

On the grounds of the museum.

The plain rooms of the museum featured a lot of photos of Gandhi and text to go with it. For someone who lived before digital photography, his image was certainly captured by a lot of cameras. There were also a few artifacts, including one large one.

The vehicle used to carry his remains to Raj Ghat for cremation. I thought of the wagon I’d seen in Atlanta used for a similar melancholy purpose.

I can’t leave it at that.

Seen at the museum’s entrance.

Amer Fort, Jaipur

Posted on May 21, 2025 by admin

Something that greater Jaipur had that Agra and Delhi didn’t seem to: hills. Impressive hills.

The thing to do with a hill, at least in pre-modern times, is to build a fort on it. Or perhaps a fort with palace-like elements, or a palace with fort-like elements. In any case, Man Singh I, Maharaja of Amer (or Amber), a Rajput princely state, ordered the construction of Amer Fort (Amber Fort) in the late 16th century. He wasn’t a Mughal, but worked for one: Akbar. When the emperor needed an enemy crushed militarily in pursuit of imperial expansion, Man Singh, a Hindu devotee of Krishna, was his man.

Even arriving by car, the uphill trip took a while, winding along narrow, busy roads to a place without enough parking. That was the driver’s concern. He dropped us off and we walked a bit further to the fort.

It’s expansive.

Amer is in fact one of six forts in the area that form a World Heritage Site.

“The series of six massive hill forts are architectural manifestations of Rajput valour, bravery, feudalism and cultural traditions, documented in several historic texts and paintings of the medieval and late medieval period in India,” UNESCO notes.

“Their elaborate fortifications, built to protect not only garrisons for defence but also palatial buildings, temples, and urban centres, and their distinctive Rajput architecture, are an exceptional testimony to the cultural traditions of the ruling Rajput clans.”

Amer displays the kind of intricate work one comes to expect after seeing a half-dozen monumental Indian structures. It seemed like much of the rest of India had come to see the superb craftsmanship, too.

Something I didn’t expect: Amer Fort toilets.

Remarkably, there is information online about these and other toilets for the relief of important people of the Indian past: “An Insight Into The Royal Mughal Toilets” by one Dr. Atul Kumar Singh Parmar.

Fatehpur Sikri, Uttar Pradesh

Posted on May 20, 2025 by admin

Here we are, in a cold May. Cold and today, rainy. Cold in April is one thing, but in May? Not wintertime freezing cold, of course, but nearly refrigerator chilly. Too cold to lounge around on the deck, which is pretty much my definition of atmospheric chill.

The cold came after considerable warmth last week, even a day that felt hot, during which a dust storm blew through northern Illinois. We didn’t feel the brunt of the storm, just a gusty and dusty edge of it. In all the years I’ve been here, I don’t remember any other Chicagoland-spanning dust storms. Odd.

Out of curiosity, I checked temps in Agra and Jaipur today. At about 2 am IST – the middle of the night – it was 90° F. in Agra. Tomorrow: Abundant sunshine. Hazy. High 106° F. Winds light and variable. As for Jaipur, middle of the night temp, 93° F. Tomorrow: Sunny, along with a few afternoon clouds. Hazy. High 112° F. Winds WNW at 10 to 15 mph.

Zounds. Between Agra and Jaipur, on National Highway 21, is the border of Rajasthan and Uttar Pradesh. This is what it looked like, leaving Uttar Pradesh, headed for Jaipur.

Behold, the National Highway system of India. Infrastructure, by the looks of it, that is reaping enormous economic benefits. The roads were renumbered in 2010. News of that didn’t reach my part of North America, or if it did, it was a squib of an item, lost in the news churn. Under the new(ish) numbering scheme in India, east-west highways are numbered odd, while north-south ones are even, the opposite of the U.S. Interstate system. The numbers increase as you go west or south. Again, the opposite.

Imagine the government committee meetings, the endless, hours-long committee meetings, that must have gone into renumbering the roads. Was there a bureaucratic faction that pushed not to be like the Interstate system, as a matter of national pride?

Near the border along NH 21, but still in Uttar Pradesh, is Fatehpur Sikri, which Akbar, the third Mughal emperor, made his capital for a little more than a decade in the 16th century. A short-time capital it might have been, but Akbar didn’t think small when it came to developing Fatehpur Sikri – Mughal potentates never thought small, it seems – and so left behind some World Heritage-class sites (and indeed, it is on the UNESCO list).

When we arrived, temps were nowhere near 100+ F. Maybe 80° F. or so, which I count as pleasant.

Turn up the heat another 20° or so, and those broad stone courtyards wouldn’t be that pleasant for tourists or touts.

The stonemasons, as usual, did wonders with red sandstone.

Unlike any other big-deal historic site we visited in India in February, roving vendors were allowed inside the complex at Fatehpur Sikri. The vendors tend to swarm, especially if you buy anything from anyone at any moment – as I did, a necklace for Yuriko. I might as well have painted a DayGlo rupee symbol (₹) on my back.

Never mind, Fatehpur Sikri was up to high Mughal standards: a splendor. In one courtyard, an array of Mughal tombs caught my attention, marking resting places on a less grand scale than the likes of the Taj or the Baby Taj.

Royalty gets royal treatment after death, but so many other people were involved in running a court, and they deserved dignified entombments, too. Such as, for example, the overseer of the royal flyswatters. (Servant jobs were very specific in those days.)

I hope our guide for a couple of hours at Fatehpur Sikri got a cut, one way or another, of what we paid to hire the car and driver, on top of the tip we gave him directly. He told us a good many interesting things about the town and its history, but nothing quite as interesting as how an uptick in tourism — mostly domestic tourists, I bet — had allowed him enough money to buy a motorcycle a few years earlier. “Changed our lives completely,” was how he put the impact on his family.

His brother had a souvenir stall near the historic sites, and a clubfoot. We drank tea with them, and in lieu of buying something, I gave him a tip as well. Could be he’s saving for a motorcycle, too, or needs gas money if he’s got one already.

The Tomb of I’timād-ud-Daulah

Posted on May 19, 2025 by admin

As a tourist in Agra, the thing to do is visit the Taj Mahal last. Anything seen after the Taj will pale in comparison, however grand the edifice. So after the Agra Fort, and toward the end of our first day in that city, we visited the Tomb of I’timād-ud-Daulah, with Taj Mahal slated for early the next morning.

Go through a finely styled gate.

From there, it isn’t far to the mausoleum.

An exquisite work. How is carving in stone like that possible? It’s impossibly intricate. It’s also always compared to the top masterpiece that is the Taj, which is not far away. More modest than the Taj, but with some clear similarities. This tomb came first by a few decades, so it would be the inspiration. There is a reason the Tomb of I’timād-ud-Daulah is also called “Bachcha Taj” or the “Baby Taj.”

“What makes the tomb of Itimad-ud-Daulah stand out from its contemporary structures, undoubtedly is the overwhelming decorative technique that was used — its polychrome profuse ornamentation consisting of intricate florals, stylized arabesques, abstract geometrical designs, mosaic kaleidoscope techniques enriched with splendid ornamentation in semi precious and rare stones inlay and exquisite carvings that resembles the finest of lace,” explains Outlook Traveler.

“All these were mostly inspired by plant studies and motifs of vivid flora and fauna with a distinguished influence of Persian heritage drawn by masterful artisans and craftsmen of Persia who worked at the Mughal court.”

All that made me think of the outline for a bit of sketch comedy, though a bit that assumes that most people have heard of the Baby Taj, and how it compares with the regular full-sized Taj. So not a realistic idea for a sketch that North Americans or western Europeans might respond to. Still, imagine Mitchell and Webb doing the following. Or rather an Indian comic duo equivalent, to abide by modern sensibilities. Say, Mitchell-like and Webb-like. There must be someone.

The setup would be the architect hired to design Tomb of I’timād-ud-Daulah has submitted plans – which are visible to the audience – and they look suspiciously like the Taj Mahal as we know it. The architect meets with the Grand Vizier to discuss the plans (would that actually happen? Never mind, the rule of funny). I imagine Mitchell-like would be the architect, Webb-like the Grand Vizier.

Grand Vizier — We rather like your design, but we want a few tweaks.

Architect — Tweaks?

— Yeah, you know, little things. But we do think your design is wonderful. Too wonderful, in fact.

— What does that mean? What do you want to change?

— Well, it’s a bit large.

— Large?

— Yes, the building. The main one. We were hoping for something, you know, a bit more modest. Yes, that’s it. Modest. Scale it down.

— But it wouldn’t be the same.

— And the dome. That’s a little much, don’t you think?

— No dome?

— Well, something should be up there. Let’s call it a roof element. Your dome’s just a little grand.

— But this is going to be the tomb of the great I’timād-ud-Daulah! The father-in-law of the emperor! Grand Vizier before you!

— And don’t we know it. A great man, for sure. But do you know how much stonemasons cost these days? I mean, really good ones. Oh, and don’t worry, we like the four minarets. That’s a classic. But those should be smaller too.

— Grand Vizier, I object. If I do say so myself, I’ve designed one of the greatest buildings in the world! If we make it smaller, it wouldn’t be that. It would be just another tomb.

— Well, now. Who is it that is paying you?

— You are, Grand Vizier.

— And who could, let’s say, make things pretty uncomfortable for you? We still have some space in our dungeons.

— You could, Grand Vizier.

— So…

— Smaller it is, Grand Vizier. More modest. Yes.

Agra Fort

Posted on May 18, 2025 by admin

“The sky turned the colour of molten copper,” wrote William Dalrymple in City of Djinns. “The earth cracked like a shattered windscreen. April gave way to May, and every day the heat grew worse.”

February, clearly, was the time to visit north-central India, basking in warm but not oppressive sun.

The first place we went in Agra wasn’t the Taj Mahal, which we would visit the next day, but Agra Fort, a massive red sandstone and marble complex associated (of course) with Mughal emperors, especially Humayun, who seized the site of an older structure, and Akbar, who put the structure in its current form, more or less.

“Akbar arrived in Agra in 1558,” says the Archaelogical Survey of India. “He ordered to renovate the fort with red sandstone. Some 4,000 builders daily worked on it and it was completed in eight years (1565-1573).”

The wall circumscribes sizable edifices on sizable green spaces.

Marvel at the detail.

Inner courtyard splendors.

“The walls of the roughly crescent-shaped structure have a circumference of about 1.5 miles (2.5 km), rise 70 feet (21 metres) high, and are surrounded by a moat… ” notes Britannica.

“Many structures within the walls were added later by subsequent Mughal emperors, notably Shah Jahān and Jahāngīr. The complex of buildings — reminiscent of Persian- and Timurid-style architectural features — forms a city within a city.”

Through a window, something familiar. At least from pictures.

Our first glimpse of the Taj Mahal.

“In addition to its other functions, the fort also served as a prison for Shah Jahān,” Britannica continues. “Aurangzeb, his son and successor as emperor, had him confined there from 1658 until his death in 1666.”

The story is that the deposed Shah Jahān spent his time gazing at the Taj Mahal, where his wife was entombed and, when the time came, he would be as well. There are worse places to be under house arrest.

The splendor continues under elegant arches.

No matter how grand, however, time will have its say, and the splendor we see is just a fraction of the total across the centuries.

“Abul Fazl, a court historian of Akbar, records that 5,000 buildings were built here beautifully in Bengali and Gujarati style,” says the Archaelogical Survey. “Most of these buildings have now disappeared. Shah Jahan himself demolished some of these in order to make room for his white marble palaces. Later, the British destroyed most of the buildings for raising barracks.”

Ancient Roman Sculpture from the Torlonia Collection

Posted on May 15, 2025 by admin

Go to one of the newer galleries at the Art Institute of Chicago, at least until June 29, and these figures will greet you. Or at least stay still while you take a good look.

Marcus Aurelius is front and center, looking rather stoic, or should I say Stoic, with some contemporaries near him.

He doesn’t look that much like Alec Guinness. Or rather, Sir Alec doesn’t look much like him. Long ago, I watched The Fall of the Roman Empire in Latin class, one of those last week of the school year sort of activities, finding it a ridiculous mess, despite a stellar cast that included Guinness as the last Good Emperor, and lavish production values.

Also, as a fellow named John in the class pointed out, the movie left out good old Pertinax in its depiction of the events after the death of Commodus. “Where is he?” John said. “Pertinax came after Commodus.” Latin students were the sort likely to notice that kind of omission.

There’s the seed of a series of counterfactual novels: Pertinax survived for some years, re-establishing a chain of Good Emperors, thus preventing the chaos of the 3rd century and hey – Rome didn’t fall. Or something like that.

We’d come to the Art Institute, a few weeks ago now, to see Roman sculpture.

After spending time in Berlin seeing the same sort of ancient art, I couldn’t very well miss something so close to home. The collection owes its origin to Prince Giovanni Torlonia (d. 1829) and his son Prince Alessandro (d. 1886), who bought ancient works when the getting was good, and dug up other pieces at their extensive estates.

“The Torlonia Collection is not only the largest private collection of Roman marble sculptures in Italy, but it is also arguably the most important of such private collections in the world,” the Art Institute says. “Comprising 622 works and a wide range of sculptural types and subjects, its holdings rival those of major institutions in Europe, including the Capitoline and Vatican Museums.

“Nearly half of these sculptures, which range in date from the 5th century BCE to the early 4th century CE, have not been publicly displayed in more than 70 years and have been newly cleaned, conserved, and studied specifically for this exhibition, making for a spectacular opportunity to experience their first public presentation in decades.”

For once, a curated experience that reflects the actual meaning of that now abused word, since I’m assuming expert curators were involved. They had a great deal to work with besides imperial portraits.

Such as a sarcophagus depicting the Mighty Hercules at his Labors.

Its lid.

Makes you wonder who the last person was to see it, who knew the people depicted. A grandchild perhaps, now nearly as remote in time as sarcophagus itself. After that person was gone, the figures might have been revered as Noble Ancestors, but increasingly distant ones. Eventually — who were these people again? And so no one minded as the object slipped out of sight, only to be found much later by antiquarians of a remote posterity.

The exhibit included more than people in stone.

The signage for the exhibit included information I’d never seen depicted in quite this way.

Part of the history of these works now includes restorations done during centuries previous to ours, but still comparatively recent. That’s more information that you usual get at a display of ancient art, and I compliment the curators on it.

The World Seems in Tune on a Spring Afternoon

Posted on May 14, 2025 by admin

One more image from graduation.

That’s the ceiling of CEFCU Arena in Normal. Once upon a time CEFCU was Caterpillar Employees Federal Credit Union. That company‘s HQ wasn’t far away, also once upon a time. But in more recent years, the entity became an independent financial services firm, renamed Citizens Equity First Credit Union to keep the initialism consistent.

It didn’t occur to me until later that the ceiling is Redbird red.

Speaking of red.

Not in Normal or anywhere else I’ve traveled lately, unless you count flowerbeds here in the northwest suburbs, about a mile and a half from home. Not just reds, either.

Nothing like spring flowers to remind you of favorite old springtime songs.

Been There, Seen That

By Dees Stribling