David O'Hara

“In the ‘Voyage to Laputa,’ there is a description of a machine for evolving science automatically. ‘By this contrivance, the most ignorant person, at a reasonable charge, and with little bodily labor, might write books in philosophy, poetry, politics, laws, mathematics, and theology, without the least assistance from genius or study.’ The intention is to ridicule the Organon of Aristotle and the Organon of Bacon, by showing the absurdity of supposing that any ‘instrument’ can do the work of the mind. Yet the logical machines of Jevons and Marquand are mills into which the premises are fed and which turn out the conclusions by the revolution of a crank. The numerous mathematical engines that have been found practically useful, from Webb’s adder up to Babbage’s analytical engine (which was designed though never constructed), are also machines that perform reasoning of no simple kind. Precisely how much of the business of thinking a machine could possibly be made to perform, and what part of it must be left for the living mind, is a question not without conceivable practical importance; the study of it can at any rate not fail to throw needed light on the nature of the reasoning process. Though the instruments of Jevons and Marquand were designed chiefly to illustrate more elementary points, their utility lies mainly, as it seems to me, in the evidence they afford concerning this problem.”

– Charles S. Peirce. “Logical Machines,” in Writings of Charles Sanders Peirce, ed. N. Houser (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2000) 6:65.

Today in my environmental philosophy class I was teaching the students about lycaenid butterflies. I haven’t seen one on campus for a long time. As soon as class ended and as the students were walking away across the grass, a little Melissa Blue the size of my fingernail flitted up and rested in the grass beside me. Now its memory is sketched in my journal.

Agapostemon bee. I love the full immersion in the meal.

Keep journaling

I can begin a nature journal entry while standing next to a flower or gazing out over a landscape. That is often — usually — the first step.

Often I return to my journals, and continue to make observations. Compare today’s work with yesterday’s and you can see the value of the journal for me: it is a place for continued wonder.

Some have called this the practice of “perpetual journaling,” akin to what Thoreau did: a page is not a permanent and stable artifact, but a bookmark for a scene, a species, a place of wonder.

Began the day with some photography in the garden and then did some sketching and painting from my photos while waiting in my doctor’s office.

Enjoying the bees and flowers while the weather allows, and enjoying the garden while it still exists.

Three bees on a sunflower. Two of them are Agapostemon virescens, I believe. The third is fuzzy. (Not a scientific description but I can only claim so much expertise.)

Campus chapel was filled today for a memorial service for a beloved colleague. She taught with deep and fiery love. And she shared what she loved with all her students and with us her colleagues. As the tears come and go in waves I am remembering her in my journal today. She taught her students to wonder at the beauty of creation. She loved God and she loved science. She was a gift. After the service i saw a monarch butterfly, and then another. Their migration continues to pass through. A quick sketch in my journal is my gift to Ann today. I miss you, Ann. May you rest in peace and in abiding love, and may you rise in glory in the world to come.

Part of the phenology calendar in our kitchen. Are there species you watch for where you live?

Today’s Phenology Sketch

The garden my students made seven years ago is full of flowers still. Most gardens are done blossoming but this one is full of prairie native plants. The prairie feeds pollinators for a long season. It’s a mutually beneficial system, and it is beautiful to see: more blossoms and more life. This garden, I am told, is soon to become a few parking spots. While it is still in bloom I will continue to visit it, and care about the small lives that appear.

Just saw an ad saying that Halloween begins September 24th and I think it was written by Screwtape.

If you’re in Sioux Falls it’s not too late to get down to the river at Cherapa Place to take in the Riverfest. Lots of good food, good music, and great organizations and people to meet!

I was down there volunteering with Friends of the Big Sioux River earlier today, and took the time to do a quick sketch, as I often do. Our riverfront is nicer every year.

This week I gave a series of workshops for the Nebraska Rec and Parks Association (NeRPA). I asked attendees what it was that first helped them to connect with nature, what fostered their love of wild things and their curiosity?

Every one who answered pointed to someone older who brought them outdoors. Most spoke of a father or a grandfather who took them camping, boating, or hiking. Some mentioned Girl Scout leaders who did the same.

What they all had in common: it wasn’t a technology or a technique that brought them into nature; it was a person who shared their love for nature, passing it down from one generation to another.

Selah.

(On my use of the word “selah,” which is probably idiosyncratic.)

Buy physical books. Annotate them. Keep the best ones close at hand and return to them. Buy extra copies to give away.

In the last two weeks I’ve given leadership workshops to professional groups around the Midwest. One thing I keep emphasizing: write down what you don’t know.

Take notes about problems you are trying to solve, about things that cause you to wonder.

The act of writing them down is a helpful step in solving the problems and unraveling the mysteries.

More importantly, it is a shift in mindset from being a leader who knows a few things to being a leader who is still and constantly learning.

The example of leading by thoughtful and sustained curiosity will be more helpful to young colleagues than if they try to imitate your confidence.

This short reflection on some good experiences I have had in physical libraries at St John’s College and at Oxford has quickly and surprisingly become my most popular Substack post. I don’t write much on Substack or Medium, but every now and then something I write in one of those places seems to land with readers.

I should follow up with some more of my archival work at the Wade Center, and in the C.S. Peirce archives. But probably not today.

Yellow-legged mud-dauber wasp. Every day I stop by the garden my students created and have tended for the last seven years, to do some work and to see what’s in there. It’s a small garden but it is full of life. It’s slated to become a parking lot soon, so I continue to show up, to gather seeds, to move the shallow-rooted perennials to whatever refuge I can find for them, and to gather memories and records of the lives that live in and visit that garden. One of my frequent practices is nature journaling, combining images with words, and allowing my wonder to take specific form in words and numbers. Here is a new species, one I think I am seeing for the first time in the garden today.

There’s a good chance that someone out there would benefit from a word of gratitude. Take a moment to thank someone today. It costs so very little, and the ROI on gratitude is both large and long-tailed.

After lunch, a little more time to revisit some photos from my last class in Spain. Sketching and painting reminds me of the detailed work that went into creating some of the great stonework of the past. What do we build today that might compare to it? Each curve, each line, each dimple in stone was cut by human hands.

Spent a few hours yesterday writing a grant to help make my January 2027 class abroad more affordable for my students. All that time writing details about the course itinerary and what we will see and study has me even more eager to return to Morocco and Spain. This morning I woke up wanting to spend a few minutes painting so I took ten minutes to paint this scene from Sevilla. Just a postage-stamp sized sketch, but enough to help me immerse my memory in some beautiful details.

Spent a lot of time “working” in the garden today. Here I document some of my fellow gardeners as evidence that I was out there for a while and getting a lot of things done. Feeling quite good about what I accomplished today, and about the company that I kept while I was out there.