Oof, things are busy right now. Here’s some Rossini.
Oof, things are busy right now. Here’s some Rossini.

Erie County’s Chestnut Ridge park is one of my favorite places and has been for years. This park, larger than New York City’s Central Park, is set on the side of one of the higher hills to the south of Buffalo, and it is dominated by streams and gorges and beautiful meadows and one large hill that’s the regions preeminent spot for sledding when there’s snow…and there are even a few waterfalls.
One such waterfall is particularly beloved, not just because it’s beautiful in itself, but because there’s a hollow spot worn into the shale bed over which it drops, and from this hollow spot leaks a small flow of natural gas. This gas burns with beautiful golden light that prances and dances behind the flow of the water. (Sometimes it goes out, but it easily re-lit.)
The approach to the Eternal Flame Falls is not super-easy, but it’s not super-difficult either–and it’s better now that the deep descent into the gorge has been tempered by the addition of stairs. It used to be that you had to descend sharply down the wall of the gorge (I’m not sure of the height of the descent, but I think it’s at least a hundred feet at that point) by a root-covered trail, but now you descend the stairs. The walk along the gorge floor is still occasionally tricky, at times even requiring one to step in the stream (albeit in a spot where the depth is very manageable), but it’s absolutely worth it as one finally comes around the last bend and stands before the waterfall.




Along the way there is another waterfall in the side of the gorge, but this isn’t the one we’re here to see:


But finally, there it is:

As luck had it, when I arrived at the Eternal Flame Falls, I was alone there. For a full ten minutes, maybe fifteen, I was entirely alone: just me and the sound of the water tumbling down that shale wall, with the golden light magically flickering there. I don’t know if that’s because the weather was cold, or if it’s deep enough into fall that such outings aren’t as popular as in summer, or…well, who knows. I was alone.
The one other time I’ve gone to the Flame, I had Cane with me, and it was a warm summer day, so there were lots of people there. In fact, Cane and I arrived just as guy was proposing to his girlfriend. (She said yes.) There was a feeling that day of “Get up there and take your picture of the Flame because it’s someone else’s turn in a minute” that I managed to completely avoid yesterday. In fact, no one else came until I was already making my exit. I took my time with my camera, composing my shots and deciding what angles to take. I got some closeups of the grotto with the Flame in it, and I took some wider shots of the entire cataract, also using shutter-priority to get the soft-flow look that is so popular with water photography.







On my way out.
Another item that makes me think of Mom.
This is what happens when you go to take a long-exposure photo but you forgot to tuck your filter wallet in your pocket, so you have no ND filter to put on your lens. (My camera does not have a built-in ND filter.)

Oh well! Live and learn.
But hey, it turns out that even the most competent people in the world mess up once in a while….
I have many associations with this piece, and one of them is my mother. When I was a teenager and getting into classical music in a big way, I discovered the New Year’s From Vienna concerts, and she made them a part of her New Year’s traditions as well. Eventually she even undertook a river cruise on the Danube, many years later, so she saw some of the vistas that are exhibited in this video.
I think of many things when I hear On the Beautiful Blue Danube by Johann Strauss II; Mom was already one of them…and so she’ll be forever, now.
At one point Mom was talking about taking us to London to celebrate her 85th birthday. Alas….

I don’t know what I believe about death, but I hope there’s something of Mom that can now go wherever she damned well wants.
This is what I posted to Facebook a bit ago:
A memory of my mother: I was 8 years old when we lived in Elkins, WV. That’s when I saw teevee ads for a new movie coming out called “Moonraker”. The voiceover guy said “Bond is Back!” I had no idea who this “Bond” was, but this movie apparently had spaceships and pew-pew ray guns, which was all I needed. It was 1979, after all, and I was an 8-year-old kid in a STAR WARS world.
One night I’m getting home from a friend’s house or something and I see Mom heading for the car. I ask where she’s going, she says she’s going to see a movie. I ask what movie, she says “Moonraker.” I say, “I want to see Moonraker”, and Mom doesn’t bat an eye: “Put your bike away and get in the car.” That’s where my James Bond fandom began.A lot of my fandoms spring from things my mother made me watch or took me to see or gave me to read. She always thought I’d be a writer, and I am. She thought a lot of things. She thought highly of the girl I’d just started dating, way back then. She thought we’d like Hawaii…and we did.Theresa Sedinger died today, aged 82. Her last months were very hard and not at all what she would ever have wanted, but she had a good life, a long life, and she lived it well.
Goodbye, Mom.
Both taken last Sunday morning at Chestnut Ridge Park:


Eighty-nine years ago today, Carl Sagan was born.
Sagan is one of the true giants of my life, the people whose work shaped me into who I am today. A very large part of how I view the world comes from him and his commitment to skeptical rationalism always leavened with captivated wonder.
Listen to his words as he reflects on the image of Earth taken by one of the Voyager spacecraft, when it was so far away that it’s just another pinpoint of light in what looks like a starfield.
Yesterday was really busy, hence nothing but a short post about voting (by the way, nice work, America!). Today we have a piece by Aaron Copland, but the occasion is the passing of Donald Hunsberger.
Hunsberger was, for many years, a professor at the Eastman School of Music, where his main post was director of the Eastman Wind Ensemble. In that position, Hunsberger did a lot of important work to advance not just that college’s Wind Ensemble, but wind ensembles in general (and their larger cousin groups, the symphonic or concert band), as ensembles for serious music. Wind ensemble music has for many years had a “student music” stigma, or been mostly limited to marches and orchestral transcriptions. People like Donald Hunsberger, though, made a more serious approach to music making for large wind groups.
Hunsberger died the other day, aged 91, after a long life of conducting, composition, arranging, teaching, and recording.
This piece, Quiet City by Aaron Copland, is a suite culled from incidental music Copland wrote for a play of the same title by Irwin Shaw. The play, about a man who has renounced his dreams and is beginning to go mad, was apparently a flop in 1939 and is pretty much only remembered now for being the inspiration of this Copland piece. One scene involves the hero imagining hearing a trumpet playing in the distance as he wanders the lonely city, and it’s that sound which Copland captures so well here. To me, Quiet City sounds like the musical equivalent of an Edward Hopper painting.
Donald Hunsberger arranged Copland’s work, originally for orchestra, for the Eastman Wind Ensemble and recorded it with Wynton Marsalis playing the solo trumpet part. It’s as curiously austere and effective as the original work. Donald Hunsberger was a great musician, and if his name seems obscure, that’s only because for some reason our classical music culture has long undervalued the wind-only ensembles in performance.