Meteor watching

Last night was pretty clear, so I set out for Long Run Park and got there around 11:50. I circled the lake and saw just a few other people on the hoods of their cars or on blankets. I presume they were looking at the sky, too, although I kept out of their business.   It was very dark (there are no lights in the park), so I didn't realize that the field in which we used to throw out blankets for late-night picnics and stargazing was overgrown until I had walked right up to it.  I suppose they are letting it grow over both because it's more environmentally sound and because it costs a lot of money to mow such a huge space that isn't used much.   I put up my lawn chair in the stip of mowed grass between the field and the road. The bugs weren't bad, although I did keep hearing things moving in the tall grass behind me. I had a pretty big flashlight, so I figured that I could defend myself if I were jumped by a rabid raccoon or a swarm of carnivorous field mice.   I sat for about an hour and counted eleven meteors, plus a handful more that I think I saw in my peripheral vision. Some of them were very bright. By 12:45 the half-moon was climbing above the trees and the sky was getting lighter, and I knew I needed at least a little sleep, so I headed home.  If I had been in a location with less light pollution, I feel sure I could have tripled my count.

Meteors

Last night was the forecasted high point of the annual Perseid meteor shower. I considered going out to Long Run Park to watch, but it was cloudy and rainy early in the evening and I wrote it off.  By the time I realized that the night was fairly clear (at least I think it was), it was late and I was very tired from a few nights of staying up much too late and getting up too early.   The weather guys seem to think that tonight will be clear, so I'm considering going out tonight around midnight.  The Perseids are likely past their peak, but they should still be decent.   I've been going out to watch them, on-and-off, since I was sixteen.  Long Run is probably just about the best spot within easy driving distance, but it's not nearly as dark as it used to be. New subdivisions and stores and a golf course were all built in that area over the past decade.  My friend Loraine suggested Taylorsville Lake State Park, which would surely be darker than Long Run, but it's too far out of my driving range for a brief stargazing excursion.   I'd like to go out to watch the Geminids in December, which are generally rated as the best annual meteor show, but they're…well, in December. December nights aren't usually the most comfortable, although I did go out one December night in Laramie to watch. I dressed as warmly as I could and lied on the hood of my car, but man, it was still cold and windy (I think it was about 15 degrees. I didn't last long.)  Then again, during the mid- November big Leonids show of 2001, we were at Otter Creek, and it wasn't too bad out at all. We were on blankets on the ground for a couple of hours.   It would be nice to spend more time stargazing at Kim's Aunt Penny's house in Michigan. It was beautifully dark and clear there.

I thought this first headline on Yahoo was poorly worded. I know it was a disaster, but I sure hope there are more Taiwanese survivors than that.

Sunday Night Part 2: Squash & Mint

At lunch today, I prepared our first freshly harvested summer squash. I tried a new recipe that turned out to be, in my opinion, surprisingly delicious: sauteed squash slices with honey and minced mint leaves. My daughters did not like it. I sort of threw a small slice into Kim's mouth, and she said she thought it was pretty good, although I noted she didn't get any more (perhaps she decided that it didn't go well with the spaghetti and pesto she was eating for lunch, which I an understand, although I thought it went fine with the garlic tomato sauce I had on my pasta.)

Seriously, though. If you have some squash and some mint, you should consider this. I was impressed.

Sundary Night Part 1: Hot

Our air conditioning is out. Kim and the girls had planned a "girl's sleep-over" in the living room, and the lack of coolness didn't stop them. Our daughters stayed up late watching movies, getting their toenails painted, and eating ice cream. I worked on getting the AC going, but my feeble efforts failed. Now the girls are asleep on the floor, Kim is in the love seat, and I'm blogging in bed.

Kim had the girls' "lovies" (their favorite dolls they sleep with each night) set out for them, including Jill's Curious George. Jill, however, marched Curious George straight back to her bedroom: "No! This is a girls' sleep over!"

White to black

This is going to bug me.   Last night I was finishing up a pen-and-ink drawing, and needed to touch up one little area.  I rummaged around until I found an old tube of white Pelikan-brand gouache (artist-grade tempera) that dates back about 20 years to my college art classes.   There wasn't much left in the tube, and I could hear it rattling dryly, but I knew it was water-soluble and would probably still be usable. So I used scissors to cut into the tube, tore it open, and dumped out the lump of color within.   But it was black. I rechecked the tube's label. It said, very plainly (in four different languages), that it was white.   I got some of it wet, and it was very black. I smushed some of it back in to paint. It looked for all the world like a nice inky lamp black. I re-read the label again to make sure I wasn't crazy.   So here's what I wonder:   1. Has there ever been an instance of Pelikan plaka changing color from white to black over time? Some sort of chemical reaction, maybe? However, an artist-grade paint that changes from white to black seems like a horrible scandal and extraordinarily unlikely.   2. Could it really be that, years ago, I transferred black gouache to a tube that had held white? I would have had to clean out the white tube to remove traces of white, and then put the black paint in (presumably by squeezing from one tube into the other through the openings). And then I would have neglected to re-label it.  I would then have to forget ever doing this. And why would I have done this in the first place? I can imagine a tube of black getting a hole in it, and me deciding that I need to put it into another container, but why into another tube? This would have been at a time when I had access to other little empty bottles and jars.

Garden update

We had our first ripe (cherry) tomato on July 31, about a month later than last year; There are tons of green tomatoes of all sizes hanging all over the plants; the first sunflower opened on August 1; I just planted the seeds from the cilantro that I planted in the spring, in the hope that in a month or so we'll have fresh tomatoes and cilantro together in the garden; there are now some squashes bigger than my thumbs, and almost ready to pick; the pumpkin vines are growing quickly and well.   Photos to follow.

Michigan sand dunes

This is one of two photos from our vacation that I specifically wanted taken of me so that I could put it on my blog (the photo in the last post was the first.) Why this photo?

Just so I could caption it with, "Look, sir. Droids."

Dr. William Beaumont

We came across this monument on Mackinac Island. I had to have my photo taken with it; the story behind it is sort of cool. Also, I might have to print a copy of it to show to my gastroenterologist, just to let him know I was thinking about him on my vacation.

On a beach in Traverse City

I think this is a really cute picture of my family. It's the second or third in a series of photos, and this duck kept getting closer and closer until we had to react.

Belly painting

This is my most recent painting, from a few weeks ago.

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/