a Geographer's Place

Fieldwork. MY kind of fieldwork involves two things: working hard and playing hard. Yes, there’s also safety, planning, getting equipment and funding, etc., etc., blah, blah. But it all comes down to working and playing. It’s my goal to instill the kind of fieldwork I learned into the hearts of my students—those brave enough to embark on excursions with me. Because the only way to really learn it, is to do it. Fieldwork can be trying, rigorous, dangerous, challenging, and frustrating. In my eyes at least, it should also be fun. Sure you may get very hot or super cold, be extremely dry or soaking wet, and sweat like a puerco estacado . But you’ll also be richly rewarded...if not with good, usable data, then with experience that will, hopefully later, lead to wisdom. So here I am, in my little apartment on my beloved Island of Grenada in the Caribbean while students scamper around the Island on the annual G.R.E.N.A.D.A. ( G o, R un, E xplore N ew A nd D iverse A reas). All part o

I'm writing this post for a friend who suggested I chronicle my recent life events. So here we go... After my father died, my mother had a LOT to maintain: several horses on several acres means fence repairs, irrigating the pasture, feeding the horses, maintaining the out buildings, and more. We tried, unsuccessfully, for a couple years to get her to "right-size". Not down-size, since smaller isn't necessarily better. But find the size that was right for her. Apparently, she thought the farm was her right-size (though even she admitted she couldn't handle all it entailed...so was it her right-size?) Over the last couple years, I've reflected on the idea of "right-sizing" and found it quite helpful. How much "stuff" do I really need? How large of a living space do I really need? I've never had much stuff to begin with, but I have even less now it seems. It's nice. I live downtown in a studio-size place (renting rig