Evolution of a Storyteller

Several weeks ago, I was set free. A huge report and a backlog of blogposts hung over me, so my first reaction was desperation. That was soon joined by fear and despair, which surprised me. But dependency is like that—insidious and ignored until the trap closes.

There weren’t twelve steps to recovery, just one: my computer began to self-destruct. All by itself, it filled its tired old hard drive, whirring loudly and feverishly (literally). Hours of diagnosis and treatment revealed the only cure was a new one. But it was Friday afternoon so I lived computer-free all weekend.

Well … not quite. I read email and news on my iPad. But it wasn’t the internet that had a hold on me. It was something much bigger, more encompassing—the storytelling imperative.

I fell off the wagon as soon as I got a new computer, but I’m not ashamed. I had no choice. Storytelling is an innate drive—we evolved to be bloggers! Our brains are wired to explain and learn via stories; we remember more when we hear a good tale. Empathy may play a role, and certainly our social nature contributes (more here).

But does effective communication fully explain a writer’s need to create a coherent, satisfying, pleasing story that is just right? Think about that feeling of intense satisfaction when a discouraging mess finally emerges as a masterpiece to be joyfully cast into the blogosphere … even with no guarantee that anyone will read it!

Evolution makes us do it. We’re rewarded emotionally because stories provide a strong adaptive advantage. When we make stories out of what we experience, we make sense of things. We can predict what’s going to happen in similar situations, and increase our chance of survival. Knowledge accumulates; stories beget science.

But this story about storytelling doesn’t tell it all. Many of our stories hardly qualify as useful for survival. Are we caught up in some kind of runaway selection? Does the powerful reward of making sense of things lead us to daydreams, fiction, rationalization, gossip, delusion, spirituality, blogging?

“Humans are inclined to see narratives where there are none because it can afford meaning to our lives, a form of existential problem-solving.” (from The Psychological Comforts of Storytelling)

In any case, now that the new computer is set up and personalized, browser downloaded, image editor installed, password manager connected, printer software updated, files transferred and organized, and pictographs uploaded, I’m happily back telling stories … though work has top priority, of course ;-)

“Writing is a sustaining thing … If I didn’t do it, I wouldn’t know what to do. Without it I’d probably croak.” (from great storyteller John McPhee's interview in the Paris Review

Are you driven to tell stories? Why?

Blog posts make good memories last longer.

Best Wishes from Plants and Rocks

Lanceleaf cottonwood, Laramie River.

Another year of blogging is almost over.  I’d like to thank all my colleagues in the blogosphere ... those who read and those who write ... those I know (a little) and those who remain anonymous.  I’m still in awe, impressed by the new opportunities the internet provides.  Four years ago I knew nothing of blogging.  Now it’s an important source of information, and a most satisfying creative outlet.

expression is the need of my soul (archy)

“Bloggers are saturating the globe” wrote William Zinsser, as he too contemplated today's widespread revolution in writing – powered first by the word-processor and then by the internet.  “I had no inkling of the electronic marvels that would soon revolutionize the act of writing ... for people who had never thought of themselves as writers.”

It's a wonderful revolution, with a happy democratic outcome.  We don't have to be professionals to struggle to put words together and share our masterpieces.  Now we common folk carefully craft stories, add photos beautifully backlit on the monitor, and cast them off into the Unknown, with no assurance that anyone will read them.  And we keep doing it ... for diverse and mysterious reasons. 

Maybe when we tell stories we make memories more vivid and lasting.

I learn a lot from bloggers – about botany, ecology, geology, photography, places to go, things to see – all of it spiced up with excitement and enthusiasm.  Used to be I had a small circle of friends to swap plant and rock stories with.  Now the circle is vast.  To all, happy holidays and best wishes for 2015 ... and keep blogging!

Ice on the Laramie River.

Sources

marquis, don.  1927.  archy and mehitabel.  doubleday.

Zinsser, William.  2007.  On writing well; 7th ed.  Harper Collins.

☃Plants and Rocks is taking a short winter break, returning in a few weeks.

Blog like an Artist

Maybe you’re like me.  Maybe you can’t quite make a living pursuing your dreams and you get a day job, thereby throwing away valuable hours that could be devoted to things you love.  Take heart ... a day job doesn’t have to be all bad.  “It puts you in the path of other human beings.  Learn from them, steal from them.”  That’s exactly what happened yesterday.  I crossed paths with Austin Kleon while while processing inter-library loans at the public library where I work part-time for health insurance. His book Steal like an Artist caught my eye.  I took it home, read it in one sitting (it's short) and now I’m stealing from it ... artistically of course.

Do you ever need a bit of inspiration to keep blogging, or motivation for the next post, or some validation?  I rarely lack ideas but there are times when I need moral support for pursuing my dreams, and I’m always grateful when I find it.  Thanks, Austin.

“Keep all your passions in your life.”  Austin Kleon.  Photo by RC Koeppel

I blog about science, but for me blogging is equally about creativity, and I’m happiest when I’m going back and forth between the quotidian and the fantastic as poet Seamus Heaney explained so well.  Austin’s book effectively encouraged me to keep trying, so I ordered two copies -- one for myself and one to circulate among like-minded friends.

But why steal?  This stealing isn’t plagiarism but rather influence.  When we create, we launch ourselves from the works and ideas of those we admire.  Study, write in their style, get into their heads, copy their work to see what all is there.

“Art is theft.”  Pablo Picasso

“Start copying what you love.  Copy copy copy copy.  At the end of the copy you will find yourself.”  Yohji Yamamoto (Kleon liberally “steals” advice from others, in the form of quotes).

So steal ideas ... lots of ideas.  “Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination” (Jim Jarmusch).  And be ready -- stash stuff in that sketch book or scrapbook or swipe file that you carry with you as much as possible.

Stealing is a prominent theme but hardly the only one.  Nourishing creativity is another. Kleon's discussion of analog and digital tools was perhaps the most helpful thing I found in the book, at least for now:

“The computer is really good for editing your ideas ... but it’s not really good for generating ideas.  There are too many opportunities to hit the delete key.  The computer brings out the uptight perfectionist in us -- we start editing ideas before we have them.”

Ah -- so true!  He suggests having two work spaces -- an analog one where “work is born” and a digital one where work is executed.

And there’s the requisite advice for writer’s block, in Creativity is Subtraction.  It’s perhaps counter-intuitive that we can free ourselves by limiting our options, but I think this is sound advice.  “Nothing is more paralyzing than the idea of limitless possibilities” so choose a few constraints.  Guideposts and guardrails help us move forward more confidently.

Geography is no longer our master is especially relevant to blogging.  Like Austin, “I’m so glad I’m alive right now” (from PDF version).  The blogosphere provides a huge pool of potential readers for our masterpieces -- an audience for sharing the things that excite us.  But there are rules to follow and pitfalls to be avoided.  We especially need to Be Nice.

Austin's advice for plant bloggers.

The book ends with pragmatic advice, such as the day-job recommendation above and guidance on time-management and consistency.  I found some of this useful (have a schedule; write every day), while other things might work better for other personality types (calendars, logs).

I'm recommending this book because I found it so helpful, especially since motivation has been a bit scarce recently.  Now I’m ready to get back to that blanket of loess that covered eastern Washington before it was ravaged by Ice Age Mega-floods.  More soon.

Driving across the remains of the Palouse Prairie.

Kleon, Austin.  2012.  Steal like an artist:  10 things nobody told you about being creative.  $8.56 + postage at Amazon, $9.99 as an iBook.

Austin discusses creativity at TEDxKC:  Steal like an Artist (11:15).

Paperblog & Tafoni Report

Tafoni -- curious pockets in rock.

Emma contacted me last week with an invitation to join Paperblog:

“Having come across your blog, In the Company of Plants and Rocks, I wanted to get in touch to introduce you to Paperblog. We are a new media sharing platform for blog writers and we would like you to be a part of it.”

So far I’ve learned that this is a blog aggregator, with some 20,000 blogs organized into “magazines”.  Plants and Rocks would be included in the Outdoor one.  It appears that Paperblog makes money through advertising, and participants get the hope of increased readership.  Anyone can submit a blog for consideration.

Do you paperblog?  If so, any information or advice would be appreciated!

What does Paperblog have to do with tafoni?  Nothing really.  Participation requires this validation article, and for interest I'm including photos from a recent trip to the eastern edge of the Colorado Plateau, near Grand Junction, Colorado.

“I confirm the subscription of this blog to the Paperblog service under the username hollis”

Whenever I hike in McInnis Canyons I become enchanted by the many holes and pockets in the rock, called tafoni.  They're whimsical in shape and arrangement, and maybe-just-maybe one will lead to a secret path!

How do tafoni come to be?  There are many hypotheses.  In fact, there’s an entire website devoted to what we know, think and speculate about tafoni.

In the Entrada sandstone in McInnis Canyons, tafoni often occur in lines along bedding planes (above and below; click on photos for better views).  Perhaps some sediment layers included small rocks as well as sand.  When exposed by erosion perhaps the rocks fell out, leaving little holes that expanded with time.  Perhaps.

We found other kinds of tafoni.  In one area, many little pockets covered brown sandstone boulders, possibly part of the Summerville or Morrison Formations -- a diverse collection of strata above the Entrada.

Sometimes one surface would be covered with small tafoni while orthogonal to the pock-marked side was cross-bedding.  Hmmm ... how did this come to be?

Tafoni often set my mind to wandering.

Some tafoni showed signs of habitation, by various critters:

Bird's nest.

Black dog seeking shade.

Happy geo-geek.

More tafoni can be found in reports from 2012:  McInnis Canyons, Rabbit Valley, the Honeycombs, and the Central California Coast.

where every natural history blogger should be situated

From The Guardian.

Nobel Laureate and beloved poet Seamus Heaney passed away last week.  In reading thoughts and excerpts posted by his friends and followers, I came across this account of what he considered to be his favorite poem:

“I [am] devoted to this poem because the crewman who appears is situated where every poet should be situated: between the ground of everyday experience and the airier realm of an imagined world.  And the essential thing – whether you are the poet or the crewman – is to be able to move resourcefully between these two realms, not to get yourself bogged down in the quotidian, yet not to lose your head in the fantastic.”

Exactly, Seamus, exactly!  I suspect that now whenever I find myself trying to go back and forth between the quotidian and the fantastic, whether it be at the scale of mosses or mountains, I will think of your struggling crewman!

Lightenings viii

The annals say: when the monks of Clonmacnoise
Were all at prayers inside the oratory
A ship appeared above them in the air.

The anchor dragged along behind so deep
It hooked itself into the altar rails
And then, as the big hull rocked to a standstill,

A crewman shinned and grappled down the rope
And struggled to release it.  But in vain.
'This man can't bear our life here and will drown,'

The abbot said, 'unless we help him.'  So
They did, the freed ship sailed, and the man climbed back
Out of the marvellous as he had known it.

From "Seeing Things", 1991.  Copyright © Seamus Heaney

You can hear Seamus Heaney read The annals say (Lightenings viii) at a celebration after he won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1995.

"move resourcefully between these two realms"

Plants and Rocks v. 1.2

Laramie columbine on Laramie granite.

It was two years ago this month that I started In the Company of Plants and Rocks.  The plan was to write about work and research, but I soon lost interest and blogging came to a halt.  Then a fall hike in the Medicine Bow Mountains in search of stromatolites opened my eyes to the excitement of nature blogging, and I was hooked.

I’ve long intended to upgrade various blog features, but always ended up writing posts instead.  Now Version 1.2 finally has been released.  Here’s what’s new:

• Expanded profile in the form of an About page  [Did you know you can't add a Pages gadget with Add Gadget?  See this helpful video.]

• New camera -- until recently, all photos were taken with a Canon Powershot A720 IS.  Now I also use a Canon Rebel T3i with the stock EFS 18-135 mm IS lens and a Canon EF 100mm f/2.8L Macro IS USM.

• Improved tag cloud -- pared down and organized, a work in progress

• Google+ membership and Twitter account (@plantsandrocks)

Now it’s time for a brief sabbatical until a field project and overdue paper are done.  Of course a few photos will show up occasionally, and perhaps a geo-challenge.  If you need a Plants-and-Rocks fix in the interim, here are some of my favorite posts (also among the more popular).

Happy Birthday John Muir ... poetico-trampo-geologist-botanist  My mentor would have been a blogger if he were alive today, I'm sure of it ... just read his words!

The largest erg on earth ... ever! is now the wonderful Navajo sandstone, my favorite formation to camp in.

Plants & Rocks: ferns and granite ... and climbers...   A tribute to fern lovers and great pioneers of rock climbing, Herb and Jan Conn. 

Field Injuries (Accretionary Wedge #55)  I myself have not suffered any real injuries doing field work, but my poor Volkswagon did ... repeatedly.

Insights from the Other Side of Yesterday Can legend inform geology?  In the case of the volcano Pinatubo, yes.

There's a hole in the ground (geology is destiny) I drove by the Vore Buffalo Jump many many times without stopping until the idea of a blog post finally made it happen.

“a great rectangular obelisk” and The many views of Devils Tower recount the many stories that try to explain this puzzling monolith.

Poems for the Inexplicable  I will always love the rugged Central California Coast as well as Robinson Jeffers' poetry about it.

but there s life in the old dame yet, the old dames being ancient bristlecone pines in the spectacular White Mountains of eastern California.

What’s an old oak for?  More California treasures ... the live oaks of the coastal mountains.

Photo by Giovanni LoCascio.

Still Life with Pebbles  Why is it in our nature to comb the beach for just the right rock?

We too are ephemeral ... just like mountains.  The Cutler Formation of Fisher Valley, Utah, was my introduction to the Ancestral Rockies.  These mountains are long gone, though their remains are still with us (more pebbles). 

Jack Frost’s Latest Artwork, a tour of hoarfrost on the river, and the first of many posts about winter ice art.

What fruit is this? tomato? tomahto? ... maybe love apple!

Will the real Yam please stand up ... Have you ever wonder why our yams and sweet potatoes are so similar?  Well, they're both not yams ...

Trip Plans: the amazing Expanding Great Basin!  that's what it is, for sure!

A Novel Discovery by an Accidental Botanist (a letter to the Earth), a "first-hand" account of the discovery of the Laramie columbine (photo at top of post) by the young botanist who would go on to become Father of Wyoming Botany.

Aven Nelson in the field.

A Novel Discovery by an Accidental Botanist (a letter to the Earth)

By the late Aven Nelson, Professor of Botany, University of Wyoming, Laramie

Photo by Hollis Marriott, 2004.

The rugged high country of the northern Laramie Mountains is home to a rare columbine that grows nowhere else on earth.  It has showy flowers as do all columbines, but few people ever see them, for the plant is small and grows on all-but-inaccessible rock outcrops.  I was fortunate to have found it.

It was back in the early days of my botanical career, a curious story in itself.  I came to Laramie in 1887 to teach English at the new University of Wyoming, but the administration had inadvertently hired two English professors.  I had a Bachelor’s Degree from the Missouri State Normal School, whereas W. I. Smith had a Master’s Degree from Dartmouth College.  He got the job.

Fortunately the University needed an instructor for botany, zoology, physical geography, hygiene and several other subjects.  I presented my credentials -- an assistantship in biology, a love of natural history, several wildflower collections, and attendance at six lectures on plants.  I was promptly appointed Professor of Biology, Instructor of Calisthenics and University Librarian.  I was to study the flora (native plants) of Wyoming as well.  Thus began my career as an accidental botanist.

Wyoming was a wonderful place to botanize, for little was known about the state’s flora.  There were endless opportunities for exploration and adventure, and it was likely that “novelties” (species new to science) awaited discovery.  This was all very exciting for a young man embarking on new and unexpected career!

Research began in the summer of 1893.  I collected plant specimens in the vicinity of Laramie and spent the following winter identifying them.  Resources at the University were limited, so I sent my specimens to academic experts elsewhere for verification.  That was a learning experience!  I was told some were inadequate, and that my collection information was incomplete.  I was determined not to let that happen again.

The next two field seasons I traveled across Wyoming by horseback and wagon with a guide, an outfitter and a diligent student assistant.  We generally camped out and though we carried a tent we rarely used it, the weather being fine for sleeping under the stars.  Plants were carefully collected, pressed and dried, and all necessary information recorded.

Our collecting sites in 1894 and 1895 (click map to view).

In early August of 1895, we were traveling north along the east side of the Laramie Mountains, stopping periodically to collect.  We decided to climb Laramie Peak and approached it by way of Cotton-wood Cañon, where I collected a plant from dry crevices in abrupt cliffs.  It was a columbine, but not the common one of the Rocky Mountains.  This was a small delicate plant with white flowers.

My first collection of the Laramie columbine, from Cotton-wood Cañon in 1895.
Specimen from the Rocky Mountain Herbarium, University of Wyoming.

Study that winter revealed that the columbine was indeed a novelty.  I named it Aquilegia laramiensis.  Over a century later my choice of names would prove prescient, as surveys confirmed that the Laramie columbine grows only in the Laramie Mountains.

It has been quite entertaining to look down from my perch on high and watch today’s botanists search for the Laramie columbine!  It’s no easier to find now than it was back in my day, even with modern transportion.  There are only 51 known sites, all with scattered plants growing on hard-to-get-to rock outcrops where few people go.  Perhaps this is a blessing ... perhaps inaccessibility will ensure that the Laramie columbine thrives in its rugged rocky home for many years to come.  I certainly hope so!

Typical habitat of the Laramie columbine; photo by Dennis Horning.

[Editor’s note:  From his rather inauspicious beginnings, Aven Nelson went on to a long and productive career that earned him the title “Father of Wyoming Botany.”  By the time he died in 1952 at age 93, he had described numerous novelties, published over 100 academic articles, and mentored many students who would become prominent botanists themselves.]

Blogger Hollis Marriott has been crossing paths with Aven Nelson since she moved to Wyoming in 1977, most recently while doing surveys for the Laramie columbine.  This post was copied verbatim from a mysterious letter left on her field vehicle, while parked at the base of Laramie Peak.

_______________________________________________________

Note on Writing and Blogging

This post began as a sketch for an article for our local paper, the Laramie Boomerang, part of a series by the Albany County Museum Coalition.  I thought that if Aven Nelson could somehow tell me about the Laramie columbine, it would personalize the story and make it more engaging.  As I wrote, I became so taken by the idea of Nelson himself "writing" the article that I ran the concept by the editors.  We decided it didn’t fit with the style of the series, so I continued with a third-person version.

But of course there was no need to toss Aven’s story.  It’s right at home here in the blogosphere.  We bloggers have the freedom to write in our voice, in ways that excite us.  Most likely there will be sympathetic readers out there somewhere who will enjoy our creations.

(Bi-) Centennial in Black-and-White

In the Company of Plants and Rocks turns 200 today -- i.e. this is my 200th post!  In celebration, I returned to Centennial, Wyoming, also featured in my 100th post, for a day of old-fashioned photography at the Nici Self Historical Museum.

My plan was to shoot in black-and-white.  We often think of black-and-white photography as old-fashioned, so antiques at the Museum seemed ideal subjects.  I searched online for advice, compiled a cheat sheet of tips (below), and headed west to Centennial.  It was opening day of the 2013 season.

The Nici Self Historical Museum is housed in the depot of the Laramie Hahn’s Peak & Pacific Railroad (above), dedicated July 4, 1907.  The line was built to bring in tourists from the Union Pacific line in Laramie.

Tip #1  Shoot in color, see in black and white.

Almost everyone advises to shoot in color and convert to black-and-white later, rather than using the camera’s black-and-white mode.  Post-processing programs do a better job, and it’s easier to tweak results on a computer.  Of course shooting in black-and-white mode allows for immediate feedback from the LCD, but in reality, many of the features of concern are too subtle to see, at least with my Canon Rebel T3i.

So it’s necessary to visualize a black-and-white version of a scene in one’s mind, to see things without the distraction of color, to imagine lighting, textures and objects in shades of gray.  Will there be something of interest?  Will the subject or message be clear in the absence of color?

This photo was easy to anticipate, since the typewriter was black and white to begin with.

It was fairly easy to visualize backlit landscapes in black and white.  Below, Buckeye School, and the old beehive burner from a nearby sawmill; horse-drawn plow in foreground.

Tip #2  Avoid scenes and subjects that depend on color for interest and appeal.

The wheel of a 1917 fire engine is boring in black-and-white.  The message of the photo is clear, but the scene feels lifeless without the bright contrasting colors.

Tip #3  In the absence of color, emphasize other elements.

Shapes, lines, structure, pattern, texture ... all can be intriguing in the absence of color. This is convenient, as I like composing with these things.  I like shooting just part of what we typically consider a scene.  Below, blades of a Rotary Hoe Renovator used at the University of Wyoming to raise sunflowers for feed.  Purchased in 1930.

All the old machinery on the Museum grounds kept me fascinated for a long time.  Below, gear wheels on a hay baler built by the Admiral Hay Press Co. in Kansas City, Missouri in 1920.  It was made to bail hay, but probably was used in Centennial to bail paper.

Tip #4  Keep it simple.

Without color to bring out various objects in a photo, I found myself tending towards simplicity, as crutter suggested in a helpful post at Digital Photography World:

“look out for subjects that feature simple, strong lines and shapes ... black-and-white images need strong compositions to really work.  Keep an eye out for strong lines or features in your scene that can be used as leading lines, or positioned diagonally across the frame to create dynamic images.”

Threshing machine, 1899-1916.

Handle of a press used at the University of Wyoming to render lard from butchered hogs.  The lard was sold to the Gem City Grocery in Laramie.

Tip #5  Think about light.

Strong contrast makes a black-and-white photo more bold or striking.  Again, simplifying seems to help in emphasizing composition in light and shade.

The blacksmith's shop.

A logger's tools.

Silhouettes are obvious high-contrast subjects, like these patterned curtains against the Museum's bedroom window.

At the other end of the spectrum (ha!) are high-key photos.  A light background and diffuse light to minimize shadows are recommended.  The pale green jewelry box below was sitting on a white window sill in the bedroom.  I brightened the scene in post-processing, as the camera over-compensated for all the light.  I also reduced contrast.  To give a softer more old-fashioned look, I maxed out the De-noise slider in iPhoto.

Tip #6  Avoid bland skies.

This was something I hadn’t thought about before.  Converted to black-and-white, a gorgeous blue sky becomes a very boring gray.  Dramatic skies are much better (it helps to crank up the contrast a bit).

Buckeye School -- one-room schoolhouse used from 1906 to the early 1960s.

Tip #7  Don’t forego post-processing.

During my self-education online, it became clear that it's just fine to modify photos.  After all, the camera itself processes images and may make less-than-perfect decisions.  Most often I played with contrast, highlights and shadows, using iPhoto for almost everything.

The Old-fashioned Look

Hanging out in the past with all the antiques and memories made me want to emphasize old-fashioned in my photos.  I experimented with graininess in post-processing, using the Artistic > Film Grain filter in Photoshop.  I sometimes reduced the apparent quality of images by taking away detail with the De-noise slider in iPhoto, as in the jewelry box photo earlier in the post.

Betsy takes time to enjoy a subtly grainy scene.

Photos don’t have to be black-and-white to look old.  Reducing saturation (color) often is all that's needed to go back to a time of softer, subtler scenes and beauty.

Wax cylinder recordings of “Elizabeth AND Dora Singing” and “E. S. Oslen Singing.”

A well-stocked kitchen shelf.

Wood stove in the Buckeye School ...

... and a well-read book.

I also experimented with old-fashioned rules of composition ... or lack thereof.  In looking at really old photos, it seems photography had a different purpose then, perhaps more documentation than art.  There was less concern for some of the things we worry about now -- like rules of composition.  Symmetry wasn't a big concern, for example.

Two old sawmill blades patiently pose for a portrait.

Particularly characteristic of the times were stiff, unnatural portraits -- unavoidable due to very slow film.  Subjects had to sit as still as possible for uncomfortably long periods of time.  In the photo below, taken in Centennial Valley the early 1900s, the subjects did well for the most part.  Only the dog failed to cooperate.

From the Geddes Collection, Nici Self Historical Museum.

I wanted to shoot my own old-fashioned portrait of Centennial citizens, and the Museum staff cheerfully agreed to pose for my experiment.  To make this an old photo, I took away all color, increased graininess, and reduced detail (De-noise slider).  I then added a layer of black specks and faded part of the image to show the passage of time.

The museum staff tried their hardest to sit still for the tiny fraction of a second required ...

... but it wasn’t easy!

A special “thank you” to Museum staffers Cecily, Deb and Nancy for providing access, information and lots of fun!

How to Get There

Centennial sits at the foot of the Medicine Bow Mountains in southeast Wyoming, 30 miles west of Laramie on Highway 130, the Snowy Range Road.  The Nici Self Historical Museum is on the left (south) coming into town.  It’s open Memorial Day to Labor Day, Thursday through Monday, noon to 4 PM.  In September, hours are noon to 4 PM on weekends.  Admission is free, but donations are gratefully accepted.  Tours can be arranged during the off-season, or if one of the dedicated volunteer staff happens to drive by while you’re wandering around on the grounds, they’ll most likely stop and offer a tour!  To plan your visit, check out the new website.

Sources

Information about buildings and items at the Museum comes from the Outdoor Displays brochure (draft) and the Nici Self Historical Museum website.