As far as I know, the only person to win a Pulitzer Prize for poetry where the first poem in the book is "about" a property corner (1943 for A Witness Tree)
BEECH
Where my imaginary line
Bends square in the woods, an iron spine
And pile of real rocks have been founded.
And off this corner in the wild,
Where these are driven in and piled,
One tree, by being deeply wounded,
Has been impressed as Witness Tree
And made to commit to memory
My proof of being not unbounded.
Thus truth's established and borne out,
Though circumstanced with dark and doubt-
Though by a world of doubt surrounded.
-Robert Frost
That is nifty.
I am currently trying to get through The Castle by Franz Kafka.
It features a Land Surveyor & a lot of red tape.
I've been trying that one for years. The client still hasn't shown up.
Metes and Bounds
The land surveyor either sets or finds.
You read this in the markings on his plats:
at such-and-such a point a pipe is set,
at older corners planted stones are found.
Still, his is not the boundary that binds.
Wandering through my native hills and flats,
I see what fields are not encompassed yet,
how little time we have to hold our ground.
It's with some diffidence that I bring this up. This is the first poem (not counting the dedication, which is in verse) in my book Crooked Run. My Pulitzer was for an earlier book.
Cheers,
Henry
Well d@mn, apparently you never know who you'll run into around here
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_S._Taylor
http://www.encyclopediavirginia.org/Taylor_Henry_1942-
I didn't figure it was the same Mr. Taylor, but there was a prior poem under his name on this forum:
https://surveyorconnect.com/index.php?mode=thread&id=51316
and he has posted about Virginia history, which the author wrote about.
A by-product of doing something that makes one a potential topic for reference works is that information goes out of date, but stubbornly persists. In fairness to my wife Mooshe, the m of m & h, I want to say that the remarriage to my first wife did not endure.
Bill, I can’t work your link, but I confess to the PLSSian valentine, if that’s what you’re pointing to.
Cheers,
Henry
Where's John Francis these days?
From the old board by John Francis
(in the archives, all of the poem ran on. I broke it up into lines, but my apologies for anything formatted a little different.
The concept's overwhelming
the thought gives me a thrill
we've come so far in so few year
sand we keep advancing still
This data's so amazing
it's so precise and so complete
it's simply so astounding
it's simply just so neat
The street maps are so so useful
but somewhat out of date
the floodmaps are so pretty
but not too accurate
the plats leave me astonished
and cuts down on that chore
of traveling to the courthouse
and paying 3 dollars or more
the aerials are so concise
so accurate and right
hell . . . I might just do my survey
without getting on the site
The tax maps are a work of art
they outdid themselves this time
I wonder who thought they could
get all this stuff on line
Now to put it all together
rand to package it complete
put in in a GIS
damned if this isn't neat
no more heavy walking
no more pins to find
and no more driving all day long
to get one more day behind
Now I can retire
and take a needed rest
for now I can do surveys
while sitting at my desk
And whatever happened to J. Giles?
When you can't sleep.....count sheep
At least that’s what they say. I tried the old counting sheep bit once.
I don't recommend it if you are a surveyor. First I pictured what would be the perfect environment for me to get that lazy heavy eyed feeling I so wished I could obtain by simply lying in bed.
A bright blue sky with sparse clouds floating high just obscuring the direct light of the sun. A slight breeze blowing and the temperature just perfect for me to doze off into a happy sleeping slumber. A large Oak tree with heavy branches laden with thousands of perfectly shaped leaves and adorned with nearly ripened acorns. The base of the tree grown to perfection to cradle my back body and soul as I lay against it. A nice open field of fresh green grass. Oh, and a fence for the sheep to gently sail across as I count them. Lastly I need sheep to count. They will be fluffy, white as the clouds and will have large black numerals on both sides.
I begin to count.....1, 2, 3........
I wonder whose fence that is.....4, 5, 6, 7........
Is it for a boundary or maybe it's just a field fence......8, 9, 10, 11...........
Maybe I should get a closer look at it.......12, 13, 14, 15............
I just have to know........16, 17, 18, 19............
I just can't tell........I need the deeds....It looks like it could be a boundary fence and someone’s sheep are getting out......I better get to the courthouse....20, 21, 22......
I hop in my survey mobile and arrive at the courthouse......Research more and more research...I just have to know....Searching through volumes of anciently transcribed histories....Catching a hint of an aromatic smell of decaying paper from my ancestors touch and seeing the discolored edges caused by years of painstaking research as evidence of each pages nobility.....Found them....the deeds....better get copies....I have to wait HOW long for copies.....I hop back in the survey mobile....arrive back at my peaceful sheep counting location.....436, 437, 438.....
Oh man, how long was I at the courthouse.....439, 440, 441.......
Well I'll walk to the end of the fence and see if I can dig up a corner and verify if it's just a field fence or not........442, 443, 444.......
Oh a perfect stone.....protruding 6" out of the ground...in perfect undisturbed shape....right at a 4-way fence intersection.....A thin growth of moss covering it standing guard as the protector of the marks left by the original surveyor that planted the stone.....As I scrape away the moss beneath it moist soil gently carried by the soft breezes of time as it escaped the earth from the hooves of the horse and from the blade of the plow......the musky soothing smell overwhelms my senses.....Wait a minute!!!!......A TWO BIT rebar.....why is that two bit rebar there only 3.7986 feet away....Oh man I'm tired.......Better go check the other end of the fence.......as I pass by my perfect tree........998, 999, 1000, 1001.........
Man I'm tired........1002, 1003, 1004......
AH HA a perfect fence corner with a perfect 5/8" reb.....hey wait a minute.....a perfect fence corner with TWO perfect 5/8" re.........Oh man there are 3 PERFECT FREAKIN CORNERS.......Auuuurrrggghhhhh!!.......Better head back to the courthouse.....more research......1502, 1503, 1504......
Man I'm tired......0.08, 0.04, 1.0561.....
Where did those sheep come from.......
J. Giles
So what brings you to surveying? The bio sounded like you would be too busy writing for that or this forum.
Maybe not Surveying in Literature, but Surveying in Fiction:
Norman Van Valkenburgh mystery series:
http://www.catskill.net/purple/murder.htm
http://www.amazon.com/Murder-Catskills-Norman-Van-Valkenburgh/dp/B0049VK3R6
Murder in the Catskills has 'way more history than most readers would want (but I didn't mind), barely enough surveying to qualify for the category, and some unbelievable plot elements - but still an enjoyable read.
And another one I haven't read
http://www.catskill.net/purple/gunkmort.htm
Welcome and thanks for the post.
The PLSSian Valentine was great. I was absent from the board at that time.
Can't forget this world famous surveyor....
Where's John Francis these days?
and no more driving all day long
to get one more day behind
That is a great line...or a hook in a song
Bill--
The bio, as I say above, is a little out of date. I've put writing aside for a little while, for various reasons that seem sound enough to me. Meanwhile about six years ago we got into benchmark hunting, and, in a small way, instrument collecting. Then in retirement I found the time to take courses in the U. of Wyoming Outreach program. It's been a privilege and a joy, though these days, toward the end of a summer of route surveying class, I'm finding myself right out at the limit of my mathematical preparation. I have a tiny amount of ancient field experience, because one of my college classmates became a surveyor, and I held the dumb end of his tape a few times.
Cheers,
Henry
Where's John Francis these days?
I like that a lot.
Cheers,
Henry
Wayne, you forgot the opening one.....
Thanks...
I knew there was another one to fill up the entire week. I used to have them all together, but lost that file somewhere along the way. Now I can fix it
Thanks...
Here is my complete set. I assume you can download it from the site.
