Looking Up

Pelicans migrating over Cooper Lake, Texas, October 2022

As autumn progresses into winter, I spend a lot of time looking skyward. This particular photo was taken just as we arrived for last month's sojourn at Cooper lake, and we weren't really sure what we were seeing. The magnified version (taken on a newish iPhone 13 mini) shows them a little more clearly:

They were caught on the fly (ahem), so neither photo is particularly well composed, but I was happy to get them--especially after we asked the folks in the park office what we had seen. American White Pelicans migrate over and into Texas for the winter, and these were apparently making a flyover on their way to lakes south of Cooper. 

While we were scouting the South Sulphur Unit of the park for future stays, we caught some pretty interesting clouds and cloud-contrail combos overhead:

Back home, I caught a hot-air balloon on the camera for the first time this year. They're a fairly typical sight over this area during the fall, but iffy weather has prevented earlier appearances. The annual festival is held south of us, in Plano (quite close to where my kids were raised and The Beloved Spouse spent most of his teaching career) during the last week or so of September, but it's too crowded for us, so we have to make do with what floats north.  Our dog Arlo used to bay like a hound whenever they fired up their burners overhead. Nylah ignores them.

The tree canopy is still pretty thick over our little "farm," which means that our access to sky is still somewhat limited. But I did see some pretty stuff overhead yesterday while I was taking Molly out for an afternoon squirrel-stalk.

These days things are somewhat less dramatic than they were at the end of August:

While I was looking for the above, I ran across the first shot I got of our baby Mississippi Kite (the one who fledged and flew for my last post). I'm not terribly quick on the mark these days, but at least his (?) colors are showing.

In general, I'm in a much better mood than I have been in some time. The ticker is working just fine, and the elections turned out far better than we had even hoped (although Texas is--well, Texas). Feeling as though we have dodged a bullet, we've entered a stage of equanimity that's become rare and unfamiliar. It was good to see that the "Zoomers" are coming into their own. This is particularly reassuring, because they're the ones who're inheriting the world we've made. Here on the farm, we're trying to do what we can to keep things from getting worse, at least environmentally, but there's so much damage that repair will take far longer than I have any hope of living to see. 

Still, things are certainly looking up. And that means that my Skywatch Friday post this week is much more appropriate than usual. Have a good one, People. 

Looking Skyward

It seems as though I spend a great deal of time these days looking up: for clouds, signs of rain, tokens of impending change. But I'm tired of writing about the weather. It rained last Friday, providing a steady, sweet, cool respite from the heat that lasted for about an hour. The temperature fell to a balmy 103 F in the days that followed, and it should only get up to 101 today, according to the weather sources that have been wrong more often than not. From now on I'm only going to rely on the approaching equinox to signal change.

But not thinking about the weather leaves mental space for worrying about civilization and its discontents: war, famine, politics, economics, environment, health, education--with all their creeping dystopian possibilities.

So lately I've been taking refuge on a different planet. One called Phoebe, where the protagonist of my latest "old bats in space" saga (Petunia) has just disappeared. She finally reached that point after I'd spent several months thinking about how to get her there, and after I'd spent another several hours rereading what I'd already written and filling in the missing bits. None of this is for publication; rather, it's my own escape from here and now and a means for imagining alternatives to what ails us at the moment. Writing this stuff is fun, and Petunia's having fun, and it beats drinking as an avoidance mechanism.

I've also got several reads going: books that run the gamut from Sayonara Michelangelo by Waldemar Januszczak, to The Atlantis Syndrome, by Paul Jordan, to Robert Charles Wilson's latest, Vortex and John Scalzi's engaging but silly newest book, Fuzzy Nation (both just finished). Some of these I'm reading for my classes (Januszczak and Jordan), so they sort of count as work, but I don't actually have to read them. I do so mostly so that I don't deliver the same stale stuff over and over again and can add fresh material to my stand-up art history and mythology routines.

But I won't be able to avoid the real world for much longer, so for anyone who's interested, here's what's on the Farm menu for the near future: musings on cucina povera (fancy Italian for peasant food) and utopia, energy options, food deserts and obesity, creating an oasis, and coming to terms with advancing age. Probably not all at once, though.

In the meantime, here are this week's Skywatch Friday entries, all taken with the new iPhone (but not the Camera+ app, which I'm still trying to figure out how to use properly) in the early morning during the last couple of weeks. The bottom two were shot in parking lots at or near school.

For those who celebrate it, happy Labor Day weekend. But please take a moment to remember what it represents. When asked, none of my students knew. Their most frequent response was that it has something to do with having to go back to school. Sigh.

Skywatch Friday: Stormclouds Gathering

The news has been full of storm stories, including rather stunning videos of the tornado that touched down in nearby Rice, Texas on Sunday. This week's Skywatch photos are of that same storm, but it only grazed us. As it approached, I shot both north and south/southeast, turning 180 degrees alternately: blue skies and white clouds on one side, gathering greyness on the other.

On Saturday, as I waited for the Beloved Spouse to return from east Texas with the tennis team, the tornado sirens went off here, but despite the wind, rain, and chaos, nothing much happened. By the time he got home that night, we'd suffered no more than the usual scattered pecan branches. The next afternoon I decided that the impending drama deserved documentation, and these are the results.

The shot that opens the post shows a slightly different view, toward the southwest. The rest show the contrast between what was going on to the north and south.

As the storm moved up, the sky gradually became darker, but since the sun was shining in other directions, the contrast is more apparent in some of the photos:

To the north, the front line gradually became apparent, but even when it passed through, a small patch of blue was still visible (at the bottom left of the image).

I've resurrected my project to photograph each named full moon for a year, only because I've managed to capture the last two: the Harvest moon on the equinox last month, and the full Hunter's moon last Friday night. This, of course, was the night that the Texas Rangers captured the American League Championship title and headed to the World Series for the first time in the club's history. Buzz from folks who attended the game mentioned the spectacle of fireworks over the stadium lit as much by the full moon as by the park lights. I've shot many a moon over Ranger's Ballpark, so it seemed a fitting astronomical tribute to an historic event. Here's my usual lame effort from the front porch.

The rest of the week didn't go as well. It became apparent on Sunday night that our cat Koko, who's been suffering from lymphoma for several years, was ready to meet his maker. The poor cat looked like a skinned monkey, although he was once so round and fuzzy and black that we named him after Koko the gorilla. He was so thin we could see the blood vessels in his legs when he sat in the sun. He was a pretty valiant cat, and had endured all manner of indignities over the length of his illness.

Our vets do a very sweet thing for clients when a pet is euthanized. They cast its paw print in a little clay heart and present it to the family when they come by to pick up the little cedar box containing the pet's ashes. Unfortunately, the last two years have not been good to our cats, so we now have a collection of four clay hearts--and an entire shelf of a closet devoted to pet urns. One day I'll figure out an appropriate memorial for the back yard and deposit all the remains together.

Koko's demise has produced mixed reactions. I'm glad he's not suffering (we were never sure whether he was in pain, but he certainly seemed to experience embarrassment when he couldn't make it to the cat box), and feel somewhat guilty about the relief that brings. For the past four years we've been caring for and cleaning up after a cat who's never complained and who remained cheerful throughout. Constant medication and litter-box issues have meant no holidays, so his death brings freedom from the burden (and the expense) of maintenance and the ability to take the pups on a camping trip or a family visit. We're down to one easy-to-care-for cat and the two dogs, which is probably an appropriate number of pets for a couple of geezers.

Last night's first game of the World Series didn't help our moods much, with the Rangers' being trounced by the Giants. Here's hoping things go better tonight. Have a happy Skywatch Friday, all, and a pleasant weekend.

Skywatch Friday: The Photo That Saved My Life

No kidding. On Monday afternoon I was leaving school, and stopped at the traffic light just outside our parking garage. I saw the cloud and, since the light had turned to red just as I got to it, and it's usually pretty long, I whipped out ye olde (antique) iPhone and quickly snapped the picture--thinking that it'd be good wallpaper for the phone.

I turned it off and set it down, looking up to notice that the light was now green--but because of the fraction of a second of extra time it took me to get rid of the "camera," my left turn into traffic was delayed.

Good thing, because just as I was about to pull out, some jackass came shooting through the red light at about 50 mph. If I had actually gotten going "on time," I wouldn't be posting here today, and despite Vera's nifty side air bags and terrific frame, I'd undoubtedly have ended up as a smear on the road, given the speed at which I'd have been hit.

So, thank you everyone, for being such inspiring skywatchers that I can't pass up a good cloud, in hopes that I'd end up with something worth posting. In terms of composition, etc., this ain't much. But it did save my life.

Happy weekend!

SkywatchFriday: Dog Days

Although I suppose they're officially over, we're feeling the Dog Days of summer around here: hot, sultry, heavy, oppressive, and did I mention hot? Even the clouds I've been watching look overheated.

Typically for me the summer heat wave usually corresponds with midterm exams and grading, so I've been out of communication over the last week or so. It rained rather heavily a couple of days ago, and on Tuesday we managed to get a night's sleep with windows open and A/C off. It rained again for a bit yesterday, but it looks like it'll be a while before we get any more. The small photo above is another iPhone shot I snapped as the front began to move in. The opening image is from the Nikon--one of many I took in hopes of snagging something terribly dramatic. I didn't, but I still enjoyed looking up for reassurance that change might come. Cumulus clouds offer a bit of promise, but sometimes a cloud is just a cloud, and nothing happens.

The heat is even getting to the local raptors, and our neighborhood sharp-shinned hawk paid a visit to the yard, looking for water or a tasty tidbit (i.e. a smaller bird enjoying the bird bath). I grabbed the camera and shot through the window, so the result's pretty fuzzy.

The feature section of the Friday paper is always about gardening, and more than one story this morning was about how nobody could work in the garden while the weather's like this--so at least I don't feel like a reprobate for hiding inside. And I actually did read the paper out of doors. It didn't take long for the heat to drive me back inside, but I felt pretty virtuous for a few good minutes. Most of the mosquitoes have been fried by the heat, making it safe to enjoy the relative coolness just post dawn.

Hope everyone has a comfortable weekend and some good skywatching.

Skywatch Friday: Summer Clouds

The summer cobwebs and hobgoblins have entered my brain full-tilt as we enter our second week of 100 degree days. The temperature has been hovering around 105, and in north Texas, this is hot, because the heat index brings it up to about 112. The garden is wilting, and drought restrictions mean that I can't legally water it with a sprinkler except on Fridays and Mondays before 10 am and after 6 pm, although I have done a couple of times because I can't stay out more than five minutes without becoming a mozzie-banquet. All I seem to be able to do is remember what it was like in the summer of 1980, when I was driving a one year-old and a four year-old around in an old VW bus with no air conditioning. For a solid month the thermometer dipped under 100 only after sunset.

The then four-year old is now living in Seattle, where it looks like the high today might get into the '80s. Sheesh.

So I'm obsessing, it seems, about clouds--which promise quite a lot, but deliver little. The next chance of rain is tomorrow night, although the local forecasters' track record on predicting rain is abysmal. But since it's too rutting hot to go out, and I can't stand the stench of even "unscented" mosquito repellent anyway, I went back to the archives for cloud pictures, and came up with these from last summer. Most were taken in the vicinity of the Ballpark in Arlington, and one or two may have been posted previously in conjunction with baseball musings.

Since I have to take these into Photoshop to optimize them for publication (the original files are huge), I decided to run them through "auto adjust" to see what would happen. I wouldn't normally do this, but the program cost a few quid and thought I'd see what it would do to my shots.

For the most part, they're a bit brighter than the originals, but nothing really dramatic happened. I thought they were all pretty, though, and worth sharing--even in retrospect. I'm too fuzzy-headed to rant about anything, so y'all can just enjoy the pictures (as I will yours) on this hot, hot, hot midsummer Skywatch Friday.

Have a good weekend, wherever you are. I'm rather envying the skywatchers from below the equator today!

Skywatch Friday: In the Bleak Midwinter?

It's Winter Solstice week here in the Northern Hemisphere of Planet Earth.

In North Texas, however, there have been few signs of winter, except for today's promise of a white Christmas. My Skywatch Friday sequence focuses on the old saw, heard repeatedly among oldtimers in this neck of the woods: If y'all don't like Texas weather, wait a minute; it'll change.

On the eve of the solstice I took the shots that open the post: pretty white clouds, contrails deformed by high winds aloft, and moderate temperatures.

On the actual Solstice, I tried to capture the sunrise, but gave up because it was too hard to get between the power lines across the street, and it wasn't all that spectacular anyway. I did record the morning sun on the bare tree trunks, and later got the evening sun doing the same thing, from a different direction. The first photo was taken facing north; the second facing east.

On the 22nd, change was in the forecast, and the first of two fronts began to move in. Darker clouds formed to the west, although the weather remained unseasonably balmy for another full day. (Folks were walking their dogs yesterday afternoon, wearing shorts. The folks; not the dogs). We even got a bit of color in the evening.


Last night the harbinger of the Big Storm (we get very excited about weather around here) came through, and as we drifted off to sleep we heard claps of thunder to the north. Morning dawned misty and dreary, but still not terribly cold. The temperature dropped quickly, however, and now at 2 pm CST it's 2C and snowing.

Nothing is sticking, but if the temperature plunges much more it will, and we'll have snow for the "puppies" (our dogs and my daughter's behemoth) to play in Christmas morning. If you squint (or enlarge the photo), you can see some flakes against the tree trunk below. This is actually our second snow since the beginning of Fall, but this one promises to stay around a bit longer if it actually keeps falling for a while.

To all visiting Skywatchers who celebrate it, have a happy Christmas. And in case I'm too busy grumbling about something next week to post celebratory photos, have a good New Year as well.

Skywatch Friday: North Texas Summer Evenings

After posting nothing but cranky stuff for a couple of weeks, I thought I'd celebrate Labor Day weekend and our wedding anniversary (Thursday, the 3rd) with some of the skies Beloved Spouse and I have enjoyed over the last month.

The opening image is one of those lucky shots that can happen when you're not looking for anything. It was taken August 1st at the Ballpark in Arlington; my father would have loved the schmaltz.

A front was moving along I30 while we were on our way to the game, so we weren't sure what to expect. The clouds turned out to be somewhat distracting, though, as the weather moved through and provided some interesting colors and formations when the sun began to set.

Back home, a few days later, we enjoyed more cloud layering and another sunset.

I know that most Friday Skywatchers are suckers for color, but I really like the subtleties of the layers.

Happy Skywatch Friday, folks! Thanks for making it so much fun to look up.

Skywatch Friday: Game Distractions

Of the over two hundred shots we took of June 17th's Rangers interleague game against the Dodgers, several are of the sky.

We had great seats, ten rows up in the section just behind home plate. I was so close to the "special people" boxes that I even sneaked a couple of pictures of Nolan Ryan (got a great shot of his bald spot, which out of respect for one of the game's greatest pitchers, I will not share with you).

But I kept getting distracted by what was above the game (which the Rangers actually won), and here are the results. The opening image is of a bank of lights in center field, which I kept trying to frame so that I got the league flags in the picture as well. They were a little limp at the moment but the wind picked up shortly thereafter.

I'm too lazy to look up the score, but there were home runs, and these two shots show the fireworks and their aftermath against that blue, blue sky:


During a lull in the game I played around with the camera by looking up and leaning backwards, toward the nosebleed section behind us. I got both vertical and horizontal versions of the cirrus clouds that offered the only interruption in the field of blue, blue, blue--which translated later in the week to hot, hot hot. The high today will be 103 F. Summer has indeed arrived.

Happy Fiftieth Skywatch Friday, People. Hope it's cooler where you are!

Skywatch Friday: Blue to Gold and Beyond

Last Friday, after I'd already posted about the storm situation, I took the shots featured in this Skywatch Friday effort. The best of the sequence (I think) opens the post, and the rest follow.

For those who really love clouds, however, a rather nice coincidence presented itself in my e-mailbox this morning from New Scientist: a gallery of nine highly interesting cloud formations, and two new books about clouds: The Cloud Collector's Handbook by Gavin Pretor-Pinney (London: Sceptre, 2009) and Extraordinary Clouds by Richard Hamblyn (London, David & Charles, 2009); they're both available from Amazon UK--dunno about here in the States.

And then there's the Cloud Appreciation Society, about which I heard during a kerfuffle on the news about a "new" cloud formation caught by someone who apparently hadn't done a lot of cloud-watching. The formation may come to be called altocumulus undulatus asperatus--but it's common enough to have been noticed all over the world, as this cool video from wimp.com shows. Someone pointed out that Jane Wiggins (the photographer who made the news) took her rather lovely photo from the sixth floor of a building--which usually gives one a somewhat different perspective than simply viewing from the ground.

At any rate, here are my entries for the week. No grey skies here!

This is how it all started, with the front beginning to move in:

Later in the evening, the colors began to change:

The last shot above was taken at about the same time as the opening photo. And then things were back to normal--the final image is not unlike others I see regularly:

The weather settled down after all this, and we escaped another night of drama. It's almost a relief to be settling into hot, dry, meteorologically "boring" days. Have a great weekend, Folks, and be sure to check out the rest of the Skywatch entries.

All photographs taken with a Nikon D80 on landscape autofocus.