Independence Day photo 2

Independence Day photo 1

A picture for the previous post

Mark your calendars; 2017

I was reading about the total solar eclips in Asia yesterday...or today...I'm not sure which...but, anyway, it made me wonder when I'd get a chance to see one myself.   I recall, years ago, looking at an eclipse map and schedule and thinking, "Well, I suppose I'll be able to see one, but it's decades away..."   I looked up such a map again, thinking it would still be decades away. Iti's really just a bit over eight years, although it's amazing to me that the year 2017 can seem so close.   The total eclipse won't be visible in Louisville, but it will be just a little road trip away.   See you in Paducah or Nashville in August 2017!

There's just two songs in me, and I just wrote the third

Why am I so tired? It's because of the songs I must make up each night. I sing to my daughters when I put them in bed. They request the music. It used to be easy: Mary Had a Little Lamb was in tight rotation, but there were frequent requests for Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, that sort of thing.   Lately, however, they've been asking for number songs. "I want a song about three," or "I want songs about zero and ten."  And now it's getting even harder, as exemplified by last night's request: "Umm…I want a song about… one-hundred seventy-two one-hundred zero."   They're wearing me out.

loving work

While visiting with friends a couple of nights ago, our conversation touched on careers and work.  We talked about work in which a person is so interested that he feels gladly immersed, derives satisfaction from it.   I was asked whether I had this feeling while painting--did I feel absorbed to the point that I could lose track of time? Are there any other forms of work I feel that way about?   With art, definitely.  Producing images can be a frustrating ordeal, and it can often be hard to focus.  I can be tense and even angry.  But mostly I want to keep working and I wish I didn't have to look at the clock.   I also thought about coin collecting.  It goes beyond simply looking at and trying to acquire coins. Reading about their history and trying to understand their cultural context is engrossing for me. I can be quite consumed by performing "detective work" on a mystery coin. However, it still feels more like a hobby, and I feel a lot of my motivation derives not from joy in the work but from a primal desire to possess, and to compete with rivals who want to possess, and to cooperate with others in honing my skills at acquiring. It's no wonder that my favorite coins have animals on them; it's hunting. What would the world of numismatics be like if a large percentage of coins featured scantily-clad women?   Later, after our conversation had moved on (I would have mentioned it, but it would have been too much of a digression), I realized that gardening was probably closer to art in terms of feeling like deeply satisfying, engrossing work.  It's harder to do, logistically speaking: much of the time it's too cold, or too muddy, or to mosquito-y.  However, there is always, always more work to do, and I want to do it. Much of the time I am inside the house, I can feel the plants outside pulling me.  I want to tie and stake, trim, and mulch.  I want to flip and stir the compost.  I want to look for harmful pests and disease.  I want to dig more space and plant new things and eat what's growing. I don't know why it feels so satisfying, but I only stop when I really feel like I have to meet other obligations or when I realize that I am harming myself physically (through sunburn, bug bites, and dehydration.)

MDing first

On my lunch break I went to the doctor to get my allergy shots.  I was in and out pretty quickly, and it left me with about 20 minutes for metal detecting.  I went to the edge of a school ball field to hunt, and had another first: my first dollar coin.  It's a Sacagawea coin, but I haven't cleaned it off enough to see the date.   With things getting hot for the summer, I only feel like I can dig while detecting if I'm in mulch, an already not-so-nice area, or if conditions are wet. Today I made sure my digging was in out-of-the-way spots, and only made little holes.   I've found a fair amount of change there in the past, and it's an old school, so I'll go back again sooner or later.

Happy birthday...

...to the Dalai Lama!  And to Kevin!

Distant cousin?

Norbert Dobler runs a restaurant, Dobler's, in Mannheim. That's in my ancestral homeland of southern Germany.   http://www.doblers.de/

Blackberries

I asked the girls to pose with the blackberries, some of which we ate last night. My youngest really takes after her father. We may not get another photo of her making a "normal" face until she's twenty years old.

Sunflowers

Here is one of my patches of sunflowers.

first tomato

This'un here is the first little tomato I seen growin'. And it aint even on a plant I planted! This darn thing is a tomato that come up in my old compost pile. Go figure.

Misc.

Here's a photo of some recent stuff I've worked on. Top right: a small watercolor, with pen-and-ink, of a tree at Hounz Lane Park.  I did the watercolor portion on lunch break, and the pen portion that evening.   Bottom right is a sumi ink drawing I started on lunch break a last week. It is also a creek-side tree at Hounz Lane Park. After I got home, I used a couple of ink pens to add some detail and shading.  I don't much care for this drawing, in part because the tree resembles a giant hairy wrist or ankle, with the roots a foot or hand sinking into the bank – although this strange appearance has something to do with what attracted me to it in the first place. The roots were weird and elegant.   The giraffe is a proof-print of the linoleum block I am carving. It will end up being a three-color reduction print. There will be more photos of that later.  I am going to hunt around for something nicer to print on than regular printer paper, at least for some of the prints.

Illuminated footprints

Here is another example of something that I have experienced, and which would probably provoke headshakes and mutters of "I think you're making this stuff up" from friends.  This is taken from the following site:   http://www.lifesci.ucsb.edu/~biolum/answers.html#q26   "My husband told me there are places you can go (although he could not remember where any of these places are located) where some sort of phosphorescence actually creates a "luminescence" in beach sand -- not just the ocean water itself. He said you could walk along the beach at night and leave glowing footprints. I would love to know where such conditions exist.    [ Top ]  -- Andrea C. "Your husband is right -- the sand will light up sometimes because tiny organisms have been washed ashore by the waves. When I have seen this phenomenon, it is mainly in your footprints, but it can also happen in a ring around where you step. I believe the footprint-glow is from the organisms (most commonly dinoflagellates, but also copepods and small jellies), which had been resting peacefully in the damp sand, getting squished. The ring of light, though, seems to happen as you compress the sand, and the disturbance stimulates them. In my experience a footprint in the sand raises the sand around it and "dries it out" a little bit. "Even though this isn't really happening *in* the water, the organisms originated there, so you are more likely to see it in the damp sand near the ocean's edge, or following a receding tide. It would also be enhanced when bioluminescent organisms are abundant in the ocean itself. "Enjoy the show! "     I don't remember when it was I saw this, but it was as an adult. Perhaps it was the last time I was at the ocean, in South Carolina, or it might have been an earlier trip to Florida. I think it was the South Carolina trip.   The beach was dark. I noticed that the sand around where I stepped grew distinctly lighter, and when my foot was removed it darkened again.  I spent some time trying to figure out if the effect was caused by my foot compressing the sand and pushing moisture out of it, affecting how well it reflected light from distant sources (both ambient light from the sky and distant lights from streetlights and hotels.)  After messing with it for a while, I tentatively concluded that it was some form of bioluminescence.   It is a strange and beautiful world.

New house drawing

This is my newest walnut ink drawing; it was commissioned by a co-worker. I'm very pleased with how it came out, although my photographs of it are somewhat lacking. The top two are close-ups for detail. The guy who requested it asked that the little jockey be visible, as the house's owners were very fond of him.

First sumi ink drawing, part 2

…and here is Jill's, which she described as, "that's a house that can walk and it's a robot, and that's all the stuff that you need to wear, and that's a house for the steam, and that's all the steam popping. There's more smoke, and more smoke, and more smoke, and more smoke, and more smoke, and more smoke, and more smoke."   I am a rather proud father of these artists.

First sumi ink drawings, part 1

Here are my daughters' first sumi ink drawings, done last week with ink and brush. They were coloring at the dining room table, and I had out my sketchbook and ink. They expressed curiosity about what I was doing, and I asked them if they wanted to try it.   This one is Erin's: it's a scarecrow on a post inside his house, with big gray storm clouds coming.

Last night I had a dream that my friend Aaron won the Daytona 500. It was very exciting and we were all very proud of him.   Congratulations, Aaron!

refurbished ink

Yesterday I decided to clean up my jars of walnut ink. After I made the ink a year-and-a-half ago, I never added any preservative.  They have since molded, and the mold formed blobs of gunk inside the ink.  Yes, disgusting, I know.  The ink has still been usable, but as the supply of ink within the jar has dwindled, the gunk has become more and more in-the-way.  So yesterday I gathered the jars of ink I could find (I was surprised by how few I had; I think I've used up more of the ink than I realized. A lot of it gets wasted.)  I re-strained it into a new jar, and added a couple of tablespoons of denatured alcohol.   I haven't used it since. I hope the alcohol has no effect on the ink's application.   I still have walnuts in the garage.  Sometime soon, when I have an opportunity to make a mess without bothering my family with it, I'll have to make some more ink.   Kim has been complaining about a strange smell in the garage, one that I don't notice (the garage, to me, smells like gasoline, paint solvents, and grass clippings).  I wonder if she's smelling my rotten walnuts?

More time

While discussing time with Brooke and David over the weekend, I realize I have another time-quasi-picture in my head for the decades of the last hundred years or so.   When I think of the years of the past decade and the 20th Century, I vaguely see them in my head as a series of stepping-stone-like tiles, sloping downward and backward from the present. They are grouped in tens, by decade. The 60s have President Johnson hanging over them spectrally. The 40s are warmer-hued and darker.

Take me to the river

Well, I received some very nice, and interesting, comments regarding my previous couple of blog posts.   Regarding Kevin's comments about the circularity of I-264: I agree totally. Now that I live near the Gene Snyder, I-265 is the focus of my frustration for the same reason.  Whenever someone asks me for directions, I have to tell them, "OK, get off 71 onto the Gene Snyder going either west or south…whichever it is, you're headed towards the right…"   One thing that I became aware of when I lived in Laramie was my use of landmarks when I navigated.  These landmarks could be things actually seen, or they could be things that are real but which are unseen and exist as constructs on a mental map.   While driving in Laramie, I realized that I had lost the major navigational "beacons" of my mental map: the interstates and, most significantly, the Ohio River.  While driving in Louisville, everything ultimately relates navigationally to the river.   In Laramie, the mountain ranges became the guiding stars, which was usually easier because except on the darkest nights one can see them from pretty much anywhere.  It was hard to get turned around and be facing the wrong direction when I could just crane my neck around to see where the Snowy Range was.   One can only take the need for navigational aids in Laramie so far, though. If you get lost and drive in a straight line, it won't be long before you come to an honest-to-God edge of town. Once you spot antelope, you know you've missed your turn.

Counterclockwisey Loosey, or, why everyone but me is weird and stupid.

Everyone’s heard “lefty loosey, righty tighty,” right? It rarely makes sense to me. I know what people are saying when they say it, but when I point out that it doesn’t make any sense and in some contexts it’s confusing, people usually tell me that I just see the world in a weird way. Or do I just see the world more clearly, I wonder?

Exhibit A: This beautiful rendering of a jar lid (thanks to the talented boys and girls down in the graphics department!) depicts, via informative arrows, “lefty loosey.” But why is it turning left, I ask? If it is rotating, then exactly half of the lid is turning towards the left; half it turning towards the right; half is turning towards you, and half away from you. It seems just as accurate, to me, to say, “righty loosey,” or “downy loosey,” or “away-from-me-loosey.”

This, of course, seems especially true when the object is horizontal. If the object is rotating on a vertical plane, it makes more sense to say that it is rotating in the direction that the top is moving, since we all seem to have a prejudice (whether it’s biological, cultural, or simply derived from our usual vantage points, I don’t know) to identify with the top. However, I think the concept of lefty-loosey-righty-tighty is encountered much less frequently on the vertical than the horizontal planes.

In fact, we usually see things at an angle, as the jar lid in Exhibit B. In this case, it makes more sense to me to place emphasis on the portion of the object that is nearest, which would make it “lefty-tighty,” as emphasized by my extra-scribbly arrow.

Oh well. I know I can’t change the world. But maybe I can find a little understanding.

Forward in Time

I envision the year as circular, like a clock. The new year begins at the 12 o'clock position.  However, when I think of the progression of months and seasons, things run counter-clockwise. January is at 11 o'clock, February is at 10 o'clock, and so on.  Summer is always at the bottom of the year. Winter is aways the top of the year.   On the wall of one of the rooms at church, there is a huge felt banner laying out the church year like a clock.  Each Sunday is a dot around the edge, and there is a big felt arrow, like a minute hand, that can be moved by one of the kids each week to tick away the Sundays and to show the progression towards and through the holy seasons of Advent and Easter. Something about this big calendar bothered me right off the bat, and after many months I finally figured out that it seemed to me to be going backward, since it ran clockwise.   I often run into confusion when people talk about "moving something up a day" or "back a day" in a schedule. In my head, schedules form a timeline. Usually, when I'm picturing my involvement in some event, I identify with some spot on the timeline: The day on which I have an appointment, or the day I have off from work, or the hour of the day during which I take my lunch break.  This spot on the timeline is the "me" spot.   When something is moving forward, that means it is progressing towards "me."  That means if it is an event that happens after the point on the timeline that I'm interested in, "moving it up" means shifting backward in time, in my direction.  If the event is chronologically before the "me" spot, then "moving it forward" means pushing it to a later time towards "me."  Obviously, this is confusing, since moving something forward in time can mean going backward or forward on the timeline in my head, depending on where I see myself as standing on the timeline.   Things are a little different when I think of days of the week.  Usually, days in this context spread out before me like a somewhat abstract, nebulous tunnel, with each day labeled with its name.  I am moving forward through this, so if we're talking about "moving something forward" in this context, it always means pushing it back in time, in the direction that I am headed.  I have to consciously change my thinking about it if I'm discussing it with someone and I realize we're probably thinking of it differently.   Weeks have a color, by the way.  They are a light cool gray.

Proud trophy recipient

A day of painting en plein air

On Sunday I participated in the Artebella 100 Paint-Out, sponsored by the Louisville Visual Arts Association. There was a registration fee of $50 (a little less for LVAA members) to participate.

At 7:00 a.m. I showed up at the Water Tower with my carload of paint and painting gear. I had my blank canvas stamped, and headed out to paint.

The location I selected was at Champions Park, formerly River Road Country Club. I set up my easel at the edge of one of the former fairways, the morning sun to my back. I started in the shade, but I was in the sun after a couple of hours. This prompted me to move a little. Sunburn was a secondary concern; I was mostly trying to avoid being dazzled by the bright light. Looking at a white palette and a white canvas in sunshine can make color selection and mixing a challenge. In addition, it’s been my experience that getting the brightness of colors right for indoor viewing is very hard when painting in sunlight. A painting that looks great outside can look much too dark viewed indoors. A landscape that I painted and which Ed and Loraine now have suffers from that.

I ended up having to move several times to get out of the sunshine, but I knew going in that this would likely be the case.

Champions Park is a very doggy place between 8 and 11:00 on Sunday mornings. At least 50 dogs, taken to the park by their owners, came running up to check me out. A few different times I had four or five dogs around me, chasing one another, sniffing my paint tubes, and barking at my easel (two different dog owners informed me that “strange structures” upset their dogs. “He’s afraid of ladders, and your easel is like a ladder,” said one.)

I tolerated this pretty well, I think, although after one peed on my backpack I kept a large stick handy and was prepared to use violence to enforce (human) social norms, if necessary.

It was a beautiful day for painting. I worked as quickly as I could. All paintings and drawings were due back no later than 3:00, and I made it back around 2:30.

There were about 70 contestants registered, more than expected. There was a large range of skill levels and subjects, in pastels, watercolor, oils, and acrylics.

Along with many of the other participants, I set up some of my artwork in the parking lot as we awaited judging. I sold a couple of small walnut ink drawings, and had many nice conversations with other participants and people who had come to watch. The experience made me much more interested in participating in an art fair sometime in the future.

I ended up with an honorable mention (a ribbon and a $25 check), which was nice.

I’d only had a little more than four hours of sleep the night before, so I was worried that I might end up feeling pretty bad before the day was over, but I felt pretty good.

Green Digit

A couple of days ago, I told Erin that we needed to pick some more sugar snap peas. They are starting to come in fast now, and there's a small window of a couple of days when they aren't too small or too big.  Erin was eager to run outside to pick them, but I stopped her for a moment at the door.   "Make sure the ones you pick are big enough," I told her. "They have to be at least as big as your thumb. No, wait," I continued, noting how small her thumb was, "hold out your hand."   Erin held out her hand.   I touched her longest finger and said, "Make sure they're as long as this finger before you pick them."   She carefully folded back all her fingers except for her middle one, keeping that extended as she ran out the door.  Oops.    I'll have to remember not to make that mistake if I help out the kids with gardening in Kim's preschool class at church.

Tiny Art Director

http://tinyartdirector.blogspot.com/   My friend Ed clued me in on this. It's awfully funny.

Petting goats at the Louisville Zoo

Bernheim Forest's Bloomfest

On Sunday we attended the Bloomfest at Bernheim Forest with the girls' Aunt Pam. It was lots of fun. One of the activities was the construction of "fairy houses" with any woodland materials you could scrounge up, plus a few additional decorative items (pine cones, flower blossoms, and other interesting bits) that the ladies at the fairy house zoning ordinance tent let you pick out.

Lots of fun! And ticks! And, for me, even a little touch of poison ivy!

More Derby Day

Brian and Kevin on the trampoline with their nieces.

Late Derby Day photos

It's taken me a long time, but here are some pictures from Derby Day. We spent the day at my cousin's house up in the knobs. Lots of fine, fun people; good food; games; and a great view of Louisville. We could see the banner tow operators circling Churchill Downs, far off in the distance.

I played cornhole, which is always fun. Here is Jill giving me a few pointers: And here is one of the exciting horse races we watched. I love the fact that Confused's jockey looks a little dazed, Wrong Way is facing the wrong way, and Slow Poke is in back.

Germantown Street, October

Here is a painting that I'm almost done with; I just need to put a little more work into a few spots. I'm very happy with it. I've been working on it, on and off, since October. It's small, only 8 x 13". I'm also working on a second painting of the same size. That one is a view from the same spot of the opposite side of the street. It's not as far along.

A detail shot:

Yesterday and today I tried several times to update my blog via email. The updates never got through, so I had to wait for a time (which is right now) that I could actually log in and update on this blogger site itself.

I don't know why the emails didn't work; I've done it before, many times.

Now I'll need new business cards

Our office receives various junk mail items each week; there's plenty of it, although we probably get less than many offices, thank goodness. Most of it just goes in the can, but one item caught my eye last week. It's a postcard advertising a free Myron brand pen, upon which one can have printed one's business name and address. Since this thing seemed up for grabs, I grabbed it, and just now I logged into the Myron website and ordered my free pen. That's why, in 2-3 weeks, I'll be excited to get a pen that says: The Sexy Numismatist he's also an artist! I can't say I'll mind the junkmail that comes addressed that way, either.

Erin woke up yesterday, walked into the living room wearing her nightgown, and lay on the couch. "I'm cold," she complained. "I want a blanket."   I grabbed a small afghan and tossed it over her, and went back to fixing breakfast.   "This blanket isn't big enough.  I want a bigger one," Erin griped.   To encourage her to just get up and get one herself from the small stack of blankets ten feet away, or at the very least ask politely for me to retrieve another, I said "Well, what's a good way to get one?"   There was a long pause, and then Jill chirped brightly from the other room, "You could say, 'Here, little blanket!'"   ---   I was up sort of late last night working on a sketch of a giraffe in preparation for my next linoleum block print.  I'm eager to begin the actual cutting process.  I also went out at lunch today and worked on a little watercolor sketch of a tree. It's nothing very involved, but it was a good way to spend lunch.

How big are we talking about, here?

http://www.cellsalive.com/howbig.htm   The relative sizes of little things.

Easter Sunday at my parents' house

Gardening

The snap peas in my garden are growing well, although my prediction a week-and-a-half ago that I'd have some harvestable peas by Derby Day was probably premature.  I don't even see any flowers on them yet.  Flowers by Derby Day for sure, though.   We thinned out the crowded young spinach plants.  We ate some of the ones we thinned, and shared samples with my daughter's classmates.  We're now eating fresh garden produce.   Two days ago I planted two tomatoes, two strawberries, two basils, on cilantro, and six broccoli plants.  I have room for two more tomatoes.   Next I want to prepare a spot for sunflowers. I'm not sure where that will be.  For a couple of years we've wanted to have a large spot for sunflowers.  I think the best spot for this year will be in front of our bedroom window.

Very glad to a little sad

I opened the box of gladiolus bulbs I had stored in the garage and realized I had made a mistake. Last fall, I had dug them up, rinsed them off, let them air out a few weeks, and then boxed them up.  However, it was probably a bad idea to put them in plastic bags; many of the larger cormels rotted in storage.  Very dismaying.  Fortunately, most of them are still good, and there are scores of little ones that are just fine.   In fact, the little ones might be too fine.  Most of them have sprouted, and some of them have long white tendrils of new stalks that were twisting around in the dark of the garage, trying to find sunlight.  Instead of sprouting out of the top of the bulb, they are sprouting in random directions (I assume they popped out of the corm in whatever side was facing up).  I think they'll still grow fine, as long as I can get them planted soon.

4/20/09   The world lifts in springtime right off of the ground with the song from the robin--immaculate sound-- maligned dandelions, soft joy in each bud race jonquils and "hot flowers" up through the mud. Bugs by the bucket fly upward toward Heaven To dance over treetops, to shout the word "seven," For that is the number, for that is the word (or at least it's what I hear from bee and from bird, and if ears are mistaken, they willfully err) for the number of years that we've been a pair in wonder-filled wedlock. Your warm golden band encircles my heart more than adorns my hand. We married in April; now you are the spring that, in my spirit, turns every leaf green. Through summer's mosquitoes, and fall's golden days, And winter's hard ice and impenetrable grays, My inside is April; my soul is a kite and you, steady wind that brings it to flight.

cans

My recycling place is currently paying $.32 per pound for aluminum cans. A year ago at this time, the price was around $.92.  It's going to take a little more can-saving to make it worth the trip out to Grade Lane.

I prefer the chickens and cats, thanks

Last night I dreamed I was using a baseball bat to fight off zombies. Very exciting stuff, but it sort of made me miss the life of a poultry farmer.

chickens and cats

Last night I dreamed I was raising chickens. I had just bought some chickens, and was carrying them in my arms.  The cages I wanted to put them in, however, were full of cats.  I suspected that they had snuck in to try to get to the chickens that were already there.  I had to shoo them out.  I liked the cats; I just needed them out of my way.

Orang-utan

All of our photos of the orangutan at the Louisville Zoo look creepy and disturbing.

Death by dragon

"This is you being destroyed by a dragon," said a 5-year-old in my room at church.

New walnut ink drawing

I've completed a new black walnut ink house drawing. This one is 8x10 inches. The second photo is a close-up of some detail.

Same photo...

...but I messed around with the colors a little bit.

Happy Anniversary

My dad called last night, and I forgot to wish him a happy anniversary until after we were off the phone. I tried to call back, but the phone was busy. Anyway, he posted this on his blog, and I think it deserves re-posting here. It's a nice photo. There's a lot in it to look at, really. I think my dad resembles my brothers (especially Brian) and me; my mom reminds me of both Dot and Aunt Julie. Actually, on second thought, my mom looks like a younger Kevin in a big black wig. Not that I'm making fun of anyone. This is a cute couple.

Well, they look alike to me...

Through work, I am frequently exposed to the logo for the Thrift Savings Plan, which is our employee retirement plan. The weird thing about the TSP logo is that every single time I see it, I think it looks like the Cat in the Hat logo that I see at the top of lots of children's books. In fact, for a couple of years after I started working here, I thought (not really purposeful, conscious thought, but just as a sort of half-awareness) that the TSP logo was the Cat in the Hat. It only works if you don't look directly at it. This will be the first time I've ever put the two logos side-by-side. Don't you think that they're twins, if you sort of look at them indirectly?

Before the show

A week ago Saturday the four of us went to see Sesame Street Live's "Elmo Makes Music" at the Brown Theater, thanks to Mimi and Grandpa, who provided the tickets. We had a great time.  We arrived quite early, and had time to wander and explore the theater.  At one point we ended up in a basement area (with no one else around) and found this dressing area, which provided a photo opportunity.

a note on carob

In response to a previous discussion among family and friends:   Carob is made from the roasted nuts of carob trees, which are evergreens that grow in the Mediterranean region.   I like the flavor.

Getting in on the act: Here’s what I remember about April 3, 1974

...

lunch hunt

I spent about 40 minutes at lunch today hunting the grass at an elementary school. Results: 2 pennies, 4 dimes, 1 quarter, 1 broken screw/bolt piece, 1 winter coat button, 1 beer bottle (not buried), 1 foil wrapper, 1 beer bottle cap (not the same brand as the beer bottle), 1 piece of can slaw (not buried).   It's very pretty out today.

New house drawing in the works

I am working on another house drawing. This is another one in walnut ink. It’s 8x10, and it’s a charity prize (a charity drawing drawing!) There was a combination auction/raffle/spaghetti dinner at my daughters’ preschool to provide funds for new playground equipment. Is it still called playground equipment if it’s one of those big jungle-gym/slide/bridge items, or is the term “playground equipment” only used for things like kick balls and jump ropes? I don’t know. Anyway, there were lots of people who donated items for the auction, and I donated my services as a house-portraitist. A couple who lives a little farther up Highway 22 won, and I started my drawing of their house last week. I’m not far into it, but it’s going well. Next comes the shading and textures, which is more interesting than working to get all the angles right.

Kim said she noticed that the folks at WHAS dodged my question about the Chuck Mangione music, which made me realize that I didn’t complete the story. In responding to my last email, Mr. Duncan said that they probably were just too busy dealing with the ice storm to reply to my query. In fact, he said, anybody there at the station could have answered me, because it’s something that everyone there has been asked repeatedly for 30 years.

More from WHAS

And this from Mr. Duncan, the WHAS News assignment manager (man, are they on the case now!): --- Thanks very much for your email.... Believe it or not, I actually have the answer to this mysterious question (because I asked it myself the very next day after we started using it about 3-4 years ago). Believe it or not, it's supposed to be a camera lens.  That's what we were told by the folks with the company that produced the graphics package.   It was not something we produced.  Stations typically produce a package of graphics like this that are used for just about everything on their air, from newscasts to promotions, etc. When we asked what it was they said it was depicting a camera lens rotating, etc. as it focuses, etc.   I think the whole idea was for it to just look very technological, etc. Hope this helps....   ----------------   To which I replied:   Dear Mr. Duncan,   Thanks very much for your response. Mr. Szesny also responded.  This wasn't a big deal, certainly, but I haven't seen one of your news programs in the past few weeks and not wondered what I was seeing!  Now I know.   I also wrote a couple of months ago, during the ice storm, to enquire about the music you play during school closing listings.  I wondered what the piece was.  I never heard back from anyone at your station, but my brother somehow managed to track down the information (it's Chuck Mangione's "Bellavia.")   At any rate, WHAS has been using the music at least since 1978, and it brings back fond memories of snow days from my childhood.  Please don't ever change it!   Sincerely,   Mark Tabler

Camera lens!

This is the response from Mr. Szesny at WHAS:   "Hi Mark, The object you're seeing is a 3D rendition of a camera lens in motion. Thanks for watching WHAS11! Kirk"

Another email to WHAS

...I hope they answer this one.  I never heard back from them about the music they use for school closings, but fortunately Kevin found the information I sought.   Dear Sir or Madam,   I have a question that has been bothering me off-and-on for several months. During the WHAS-11 newscasts, there is often a computer graphic used that depicts a rotating object.  Your station uses this frequently in the background behind the anchors, and occasionally elsewhere.  I cannot figure out what this rotating object is.  I mentioned it to my wife, and she doesn't know what it is, either.   Is this object a spinning film reel?  The wheel of a reel-to-reel tape audio recorder?  Or is it something more abstract, perhaps representing the ceaselessly turning gears of journalism?   It looks good!  I would just really like to know what it is.   Thanks,   Mark Tabler

Bracket finished; my championship picks!!!

I've never filled on of these out before; it was way more difficult than I expected it to be.

Metal detecting finds that we don't really have a chance of discovering in this country...

http://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/home-news/boudiccas-gold-hoard-unearthed-1418237.html

Maple leaf

The girls and Grandpa Len at the Maple Syrup Festival.

Garden helpers

Last weekend we planted spinach and peas.

Back in business

I received my repaired metal detector in the mail, and took it out during lunch on Monday. When I was re-assembling it I discovered that the manufacturer, Garrett, had returned it with new batteries in it. Another reason to appreciated them!

I went to Robsion Park (which, by the way, is a City of Lyndon park, and not a Metro Park) for about 25 minutes and found some old junk, a dime, and a quarter. The detector worked perfectly.

detector returning

Here's a response I got from Garrett Metal Detectors, about 45 minutes after I sent an email to them asking if they received my metal detector, which I sent via UPS one week ago today:   Good morning Mark,   Just want to let you know that your detector has already been repaired and shipped back to you. I tracked the packaged and shows your detector should be arriving to you today by UPS. The problem they found was you had a bad coil, so they replaced the bad coil and recalibrated your detector. Let us know if you have any more trouble out of your detector.  _____   Garrett has a good reputation for customer service, and I'm impressed with how quickly they did this.

I try to edit as I type, but I always miss at least one error until after I publish a blog update. After I read back through, I notice it. However, going back in to edit is messier and more difficult than the initial post. In the post below, I used an "a" when I should have used an "an."  So sorry.  Maybe I'll fix it sometime. Maybe I won't.

Maple Syrup Festival

The Maple Syrup Festival continues this weekend at the Sugarbush Farm in Salem, Indiana.  You might want to go. That's the reason I bring it up.  If your tastes bend toward the rustic and you like sugar from trees and don't mind the 45 minute drive, head on up; the weather this weekend will likely be much better than it was when we went last weekend, for which I would have added the adjectives "cold" and "muddy" to "rustic" when informing you of the event.   My favorite part came right after we arrived. There was a outdoor fire tended by a woman in Native American costume and a man in a pioneer trader outfit. They explained how the American Indians used maple sap and maple sugar. They had a hollowed out wooden log to act as a trough, which was full of maple sap; using wooden tongs, they pulled hot stones from the fire and dropped them into the sap, rapidly bring it to a boil. They then added some buffalo meat, cooking it.  Maple sap and maple sugar, they said, was a favorite additive to food, but salt was rarely or never used. The man used his knife to pull some of the buffalo meat from the steaming liquid and offered to share it. I, of course, had to try it, and it was pretty good.   We took the girls on a mule carriage ride, which was bumpier than I imagined. Kim's dad bought us a pancake lunch, which was delicious. He also bought us a whole gallon a maple syrup and some other treats.  We looked at a few farm animals, petted some llamas, and tried to console Jill, whose patience with the cold was draining away quickly and whose tiredness and boredom were casting a pall over my enjoyment.   It ended up being one of those things that I wanted to leave long before we actually did, but which was fun and interesting in retrospect.  You know, more fun to talk about and remember than it was to actually do. I'm glad I went and I was glad to be home. I'm also really glad to have a gallon of maple syrup.