Bantering Bibliocrat

Just another day at work...

2012-02-14T03:12:00.000-08:00

A few photos of the workplace, taken last Friday. Yes, students were coming in the library on Friday afternoon!

Friday afternoon activity in front of the library.

I'm processing a Coal and Labor Unions collection, which includes some of these pamphlets. "John L. Lewis Speaks to Youth!"

Some pamphlets from the Coal and Labor Collection that I'm processing.

We just bought this classic book of Appalachian photographs:

A classic Appalachian photography book that we just purchased.

A corner of my desktop:

My desktop, complete with a cup of readable tea leaves and the compact shelving key (with the blue, green, and red buttons). Not to mention the Brother Thelonious Ale mouse pad.

In honor of Downton Abbey, I just did a blog post and a display of G. A. Henty books, which are mentioned in Downton Abbey. Yep, I got all BBC on this one.

G.A. Henty books ready to be put on display. Note for my archivist friends: these books already had library markings and labels. We recently moved them into the Rare Book Collection and relabeled them.

After working on the above stuff, I zipped out of my office and went down this staircase:

The Lewis Carroll Alice In Wonderland stairwell in the library.

Only to arrive outside in the Alumni Garden next to the library for the next several photos:

Topiary in the Alumni Garden beside the library.

The bell and cornerstone from the original Radford Administration Building, now in the Alumni Garden. You can also see the original 1932 library building (to the left) and the 1960's library addition.

Bird feeders in the Alumni Garden. Secured against pilfering - but from birds or humans?

Students playing Hacky Sack in front of Reed Science building, as seen from the Alumni Gardens.

Little Stony Creek: Autumn Photo Log VI

2012-01-14T15:18:00.000-08:00

I started the winter break with a hike up Little Stony Creek in Giles County, a scant two days before the solstice and the start of winter proper. It was a cold, clear morning when we pulled into the parking lot around 10 AM - and much to my surprise, the parking lot was empty. Since Little Stony Creek is also the trail to the Cascades - one of the most popular trails in Virginia - it was a rare delight to start the trek without any other hikers. Asta and I donned our blaze orange (it being hunting season, after all) and hit the trail. While the attraction of this trail is often considered to be the Cascades at the end, I actually enjoy the two miles of hiking beside Little Stony Creek better than the waterfall and pool at the end. Here's a photo essay of our trip:

Looking upstream from the lower part of the trail

A mid-creek cairn -- could it possibly be directional?

A series of stone steps and walkways mark the upper part of the trail.

The sun was clearing the ridge as we headed downstream.

On the trail below the Cascades

Asta, ever the herding dog, checks to see if I'm keeping up.

The Cascades

Looking downstream from the second bridge.

Probably the most iconic image of the New River Valley.

Falls Ridge Preserve: Autumn Photo Log V

2011-12-18T16:44:00.000-08:00

We're fortunate to live near the Nature Conservancy's Falls Ridge Preserve. Tucked into a narrow, flat valley near the North Fork of the Roanoke River, it's only about 15 minutes from the house. Falls Ridge is a 655 acre preserve described by the Nature Conservancy as:

Part of a steep, rugged ridge that rises from the valley of the North Fork of the Roanoke River, Falls Ridge Preserve boasts a spring-fed travertine waterfall approximately 80 feet in height. Salem Fault runs through the preserve, dividing it into two different rock types-Precambrian limestone and shale/sandstone. The corresponding difference in soil types generates a diversity of vegetation, particularly wildflowers and smaller flora.

Sign on a bridge downstream from the waterfall.

To get there, you drive down North Fork Road, take a right, cross a rickety bridge over the North Fork of the Roanoke River, carefully cross the railroad tracks, then park at the end of this field:

That's our car, way down at the end of the field.

The travertine stream waterfall isn't typical in this part of the country - most waterfalls tumble over granite and are very "rocky." Falls Ridge, however, is distinguished by the limestone sediment. Again citing the Nature Conservancy:

The rocks in the travertine falls watershed grew steadily, as minerals and lime dissolved in the water precipitate upon them. Over thousands of years, the build-up of calcium carbonate steepened the stream's gradient and slowly created both the waterfall and one of the largest-known exposed travertine deposits. Large sinkholes on part of the land also indicate the existence of underlying caverns which have never been explored.

The falls.

Barrie on the stairs going down to the falls overlook. It was a chilly day.

Another view of the falls.

The trail winds up around the falls, then levels off, where it wanders along atop some sandstone cliffs.

Cliffs to the right of us, stream to the left.

The trail wanders back down to the creek. The cliffs are to the left, another trail to the right.

Barrie heading down the trail

Sandstone cliffs with lots of little caves. The folks in the distance just stepped out of a cave when I took this picture.

The stream below the waterfall.

This land was donated to the Nature Conservancy in 1974. It has an interesting past, as befits such a rich, fertile field and stream located near the towns of Blacksburg and Roanoke. Again citing the Nature Conservancy:

A large Indian settlement was located upstream of Falls Ridge Preserve on the North Fork of the Roanoke River, but the only direct evidence of Indian activity has been the discovery of a few white flint arrowheads. In 1823, the Governor of Virginia granted to the Birchfield family 700 acres of land, encompassing part of the present day preserve. A local family, the Dudleys, later acquired the land and used it not only for farming but also to operate several enterprises: a wool carding mill, general store, post office, lumber milk gram mill and a livery. In 1939, a kiln to produce burnt lime was installed at the falls by Harry Dudley. Calcium carbonate cliffs (travertine) deposited by the stream were blasted loose, crushed and carted by mule to the top of the kiln. Traces of this operation can be seen near the falls.

The lime kiln at Falls Ridge.

Interiors, Early Snow: Autumn Photo Log, Part IV

2011-11-23T13:32:00.001-08:00

Some hiking photos and indoor shots provide fodder for this installment of the Autumn Photo log. We trekked up to our favorite and oft-documented nearby trail, War Spur Loop, for a nice morning hike a week or so ago. At about 4000' elevation, the trail had traces of snow on the north slopes (but the sunny southern slopes weren't snowy at all). The next two photos show leaves poking through the snow, with slanting morning sun illuminating the leaves.

Snowy leaf on War Spur Loop.

Same photo as above, uncropped.

Back home, our Thanksgiving/Christmas Cacti (Schlumbergera truncata) have been in full bloom. Morning sun catches the cacti in the sunroom, while afternoon sun lights the cacti on the kitchen windowsill. The following are different blooms in the kitchen, followed by four photos of assorted pointy and round things from the succulent table in the sunroom.

Christmas Cactus threatens a nearby purple object.

Big ol' bright Christmas Cacti blooms

Another view of the above Valley of Christmas Cacti Blooms

Sharp things on the succulent shelf.

More pointy things, only orange.

Succulent things, but not really grapes.


Scary flowers.

First Frost & Attack of the Hay Bales: Autumn Photo Log, Part III

2011-11-05T13:48:00.000-07:00

More photos in the Autumn photo series. The following are taken from the hill near our house. This is what the outskirts of Blacksburg look like....when threatened by hay bales.

Hay bales seen approaching from the east, sauntering up the hill from the North Fork of the Roanoke River.

Oh no, they're coming over the hill from the other direction!

Deceptively still, these are slowly coming across the valley.

More hay bales. The peril! Unleash the cattle!

Silliness aside, it's been a great fall for taking photos. The first hard frost came last weekend, covering the Blue Ridge near Woolwine.

Taken from Handy Orchards, Hwy. 8, Woolwine, Virginia.

Leaves in the icy birdbath.

Backyard fungi.

Post-frost flowers, a bit battered.

Partially turned maple leaf, down the mountain in Greensboro.

Mark and Cindy's cat Calliope watches from their front porch.

Autumn Photo Log, Part II

2011-10-18T19:25:00.000-07:00

It's been a beautiful, summery October. Here's more photos from the last few weeks. The Appalachian Trail winds through the surrounding counties. Here's the road leading up to the AT in Giles County:

Near the Appalachian Trail in Giles County

We've had several foggy mornings, not uncommon in the New River Valley. One morning was particularly nice. Here's the backyard in the early morning fog:


Foggy morning in the backyard

Another in the ongoing photo stream of Asta:

The umpteenth (and counting) picture of Asta.

Morning dew

One evening I took several photos of Barrie, but the light was way too red (note to self: check the white balance before taking photos). Converting to black and white worked well.

Barrie in black & white

While driving home one day I spotted this pumpkin truck. How festive!

Pumpkin Truck

We took a trip last weekend to visit our friends Edwin and Carole and their boys, Andrew and Michael. We all went to the Apple Fall Festival in Waynesville, where Michael surveyed the apple critter art:

Michael examines the apple art

Michael in the great Thai restaurant in Waynesville:

Michael, quite the Beatle fan.

A few close ups, messin' around with the macro lens. This is a mandala kaleidoscope/coaster that I bought at the Art Institute of Chicago. Cool to look at and spin, but not so good at being a coaster:

Mandala coaster

I'll end this photo set with a basic food item:

Don't be without it.

Autumn Photo Log, part I

2011-10-02T18:46:00.000-07:00

Spring and summer have come and gone with nary a bit of banter on the blog. My Bantering Bibliocrat blog has always been, in my mind, more of a photo forum than anything else. But I wandered away for a while, opting since last winter to post photos on Facebook. My poor blog has been feeling rather neglected, so I'm reverting back to the ol' BB forum for most of my photos. I tweaked the interface a bit, just to freshen things up. (A few things led to this decision - Blogspot made it easier to post photos, and the Facebook interface just seems to get stranger all the time....)

So here you go - the first autumnal photo posting, with a link from Facebook. Oh, such social networking.

Yep, it's autumn. Suddenly autumn. On Thursday it was warm and humid in Blacksburg, but a front came blowing in and by Saturday it was in in the 40's with wind gusts up to 30 mph. Autumn arrived with little hint of subtlety, so Asta and I took a hike to enjoy the breezy, cold weather. I donned the fleece and parka and we headed off to the Audie Murphy section of the Appalachian Trail.

Asta on the AT - you can just see her reflective vest as an orange spot.

It was Asta's first trip since last mid-summer, when she was diagnosed with Intervertebral Degenerative Disc Disease (IVDD). After several months of limited activity, Asta's been feeling better and we were both ready a hike.

We hiked to the Audie Murphy Monument on Brush Mountain outside of Blacksburg, near the site where Murphy died in a plane crash in 1971. It's a short, easy hike along a ridge.

There are several very elaborate cairns beside the Audie Murphy Monument.

Close up of the AT.

The larger cairn at the Audie Murphy Monument.


Peace sign left by previous visitors.

Thistle beside the trail.

Wildflower bed in the backyard, catching the last of the fall wildflowers.

Also from the backyard.

The Thaw

2011-01-16T15:07:00.000-08:00

After several snows and a long bout of frigid air, we finally got several days above freezing! Time for solid water to revert back to liquid, and the snow and ice dutifully complied. Here's some images from that transition, taken in our backyard.

Rim of snow and ice in the birdbath.

Dog toys emerge from the snow.

Green, natural and unnatural, peeking through the snow.

Berries beside the deck, adding some brightness.


Bent from being covered with snow and ice, but springing back nicely until the next round.

Thanksgiving, autumnal musings

2010-11-26T13:08:00.000-08:00

These last weeks have been ripe with change and transition, as befits autumn in Appalachia. It's apple season in the Virginia highlands, and I've been enjoying a number of local varieties, my favorites being Winesaps and Virginia Golden Delicious. (I explored Virginia apples a few years ago in this blog.) Betraying my ongoing dalliance with all that poetry I read in school, this time of year always brings the first verse of John Keats' "Ode to Autumn" to mind:

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
    Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
    With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
    And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
        To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
    With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
        For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.

Waning sunlight and shadows on the neighbor's leafy yard.

For those of us who dwell in suburbia, one seasonal rite is the Annual Gathering and Associated Disposing of Unwanted Leaves. Raking and leaf-blowing (oh, the incessant whirring and whining of leaf blowers!) are common ways to move these leafy items from one part of one's property to another, often for gathering and disposal by municipal authorities. A walk around the block yesterday revealed various methods of getting this done, from hiring professional services (two were toiling on our block yesterday) to more traditional methods, such as sending your high-school aged child out to rake while, it seems, scowling. I'm pretty lazy on this matter - I save the last lawn-mowing to as late as possible, then mulch all the leaves into the grass.

Leaves on our street awaiting removal by civil servants.

Raking also brings another poem to mind, this time Robert Frost's "Gathering Leaves," which seems to address the futility of this task with a bit of whimsy:

Spades take up leaves
No better than spoons,
And bags full of leaves
Are light as balloons.

I make a great noise
Of rustling all day
Like rabbit and deer
Running away.

But the mountains I raise
Elude my embrace,
Flowing over my arms
And into my face.

I may load and unload
Again and again
Till I fill the whole shed,
And what have I then?

Next to nothing for weight;
And since they grew duller
From contact with earth,
Next to nothing for color.

Next to nothing for use.
But a crop is a crop,
And who's to say where
The harvest shall stop?

To really get to see the leaves on the ground, there's no better place than out in the woods. It's been a good season for hiking through the Appalachian forests - the weather has been pleasantly cool and the leafless trees let your gaze fall upon the hillsides and valleys, revealing the mountains' consistently engaging shapes. We ventured to North Creek a few weeks ago, a beautiful creekside trail that eventually leads to Apple Orchard Falls.

Barrie and Asta on the trail. The creek's on the right.

Your basic autumnal maple leaf photo. Can't resist 'em!

Barrie on the bridge, with Asta frolicking in the water below.

Forest floor study: Rock, fern, leaves, sticks.

Asta runs and runs and runs while we hike.

The next two photos were subjected to some post-processing to add texture and a bit of distortion to emulate painting on canvas. Or at least that was the plan.

Sunlight on the trail.

Apple Orchard Falls trail head, treated photo.

It's been a fall of transition, as noted above. We lost our good friend Dr. Jane Fagg a few weeks ago. Some close friends lost their beloved Corgi a few days ago, and today, Thanksgiving, is the 10th anniversary of my father's death.

Holy Innocents Episcopal Church, Moss Hill, NC

Jane was buried beside her husband Dan, at their family cemetery in Eastern NC. Her service was held in Holy Innocents Episcopal Church in Moss Hill, NC. This church belongs to the Episcopal Diocese of East Carolina, the same Diocese that's home to the churches my father's family has attended for centuries. While I no longer attend the Episcopal church, my roots in the denomination run deep, especially in eastern NC where my grandfather funded and built a small Episcopal church in the town of Speed, NC.

It was good to return to the coastal plain of NC, a place filled with memories and the faint calling of long-departed relatives. Like my parents, who left Eastern NC when they were married in 1946, this part of the world is where my families are from, but not where I chose to live. While it's always meaningful and important to walk in the part of the world where my ancestral roots run deepest, it also made me thankful to head back to the mountains, to the place we've chosen to call home.

Hunt Fish Falls, October 2010

2010-10-27T04:37:00.000-07:00

I spent last weekend backpacking to Hunt Fish Falls, on Lost Cove Creek in the Pisgah National Forest in North Carolina. I've been hiking and camping at Hunt Fish Falls for over 35 years - a number that reveals not only my relative age, but also how much I love this area. (Indeed, the header photo for this blog was taken at Hunt Fish Falls several years ago.)

The waterfalls and pool at Hunt Fish Falls.

We packed in on Friday afternoon, made camp at our favorite creek side campsite, and stayed until Sunday. The weather was perfect - sunny and warm in the day, dropping to the mid-30s on Friday night and the 40s on Saturday night. A full moon illuminated the nocturnal scene.

Our cheerful camping cohort waving from atop a rock.

Lost Cove Creek pours over two small falls at Hunt Fish, then gathers in a large pool. Surrounding by rocks, the pool is a natural place to hang out. In the summer we'd be swimming, but even though it was a pleasant 60+ degrees, the water was probably in the mid-40s. Here's a few photos from poolside:

Silver and gold. A leaf swirling in the eddies.

Small leaf dams form where the pool drains downstream.

The water was amazingly clear, as this photo of a floating leaf and its shadow indicate.

Even though it was cold, some wading was in order. I think I can still feel my feet at this point, but they became quite numb rather quickly. Bracing!

Our stuff on the lower rocks.

Heading back to the upstream campsite after a poolside afternoon.

On Saturday we spent our time hiking upstream and downstream, enjoying the lovely fall day. Random photos from those treks appear below:

Trail side mushrooms? Or just fun guys?

Looking up from the creek. The sky was brilliantly clear and blue.

Fall colors and bright greens.

Maple in transition.

Our campsite, upstream from the big pool, is an old favorite, and is well used. Consequently, little firewood is available nearby. We trekked upstream about a quarter mile and brought back a big pile of wood and had a merry ole fire on Saturday night. The younger members of our cohort had a great time playing in the creek, finding crawdads, and falling in. We rigged up a drying rack for the wet pants.

Warming backsides. Drying pants. Having fun.

The view upstream from the creek crossing.

Lost Cove Creek in early autumn splendor.

This trip included breaking in some new gear. I replaced my aging (20+ years old) backpack, sleeping bag, and water filter, and it really made a difference. My sleeping bags is much lighter and warmer than the old bag, the backpack has much better suspension and a better design, and the new water filter was a great improvement over the my old unit, which had died.

One of my little efforts during such trips is to find solace in the moment. Noting the trees, rocks, and sky as you take each step, surrendering to the ever-present sound of running water while clearing your mind, and relishing the simple tasks of preparing food, washing your bowls, making and tending the fire. Steven Altschuler has a fine book about trail side Zen called The Mindful Hiker, which I highly recommend.

One of these mindful tasks is filtering water, a process that involves slowly pumping the filter and filling the bottles, which I did several times each day. I sat in this spot to filter:

Offline! At the Beach! With pending weather events! (Part I)

2010-09-05T19:05:00.000-07:00

Monday, August 30: (transcribed from handwritten notes:)

We arrived at Caswell Beach last night, unpacked the car, provisioned ourselves at the grocery store, and then took a short sunset walk on the beach. Bou the Beagle sniffed diligently, fulfilling her self-appointed duty to pee in every crab hole she could find. Meanwhile, Asta the Wonder Mutt forgot her manners and pulled, incessantly, on the leash while we were near the surf. Too near, it seems, for Asta. It takes the pups a few days to acclimate to that loud, moving body of water. For a brief while Asta barked at wind-driven foam, but the novelty quickly wore off.

Sunset on Monday

Out at sea, over the curve of the earth, Hurricane Danielle is moving out to the mid-Atlantic, leaving us alone whiel supposedly leaving a legacy of swells and rough surf, but there’s no evidence of that here on Oak Island. More of a concern is Hurricane Earl, which is brewing up to be a big storm that just might mess with our plans later this week.

Asta insouciantly awaits the pending hurricane.

All last week I monitored Danielle’s progress via an RSS feed from the National Hurricane Center, delivered to my iGoogle desktop several times daily. I'm somewhat of a web weather junkie, with mild tendencies as these things go. We have a regional NOAA station in Blacksburg, and I check their website daily. If there’s the possibility of a weather “event,” as the professional weather pundits might term such natural occurrences as snow, heavy rainfalll, or a hurricane, then I go into researcher mode and dig deep into various weather resources. I rationalize this because I’m a librarian, and we like to search and then research. The online quest, in and of itself, is fun. And somewhat addictive, at times. More on that later.

Sea oat seed heads in a sandy hollow near the dunes

So Earl’s out there, and I'm at the beach without ongoing online RSS updates. That's because we’re offline for the entire week. Sure, I brought a laptop (mostly because there’s thousands of songs on my iTunes), as well as my iPad, just in case I wander off to the local public library or one of the handful of internet cafes here in the Oak Island/Southport neighborhood. We’re offline because Birds of A Feather, the mawkishly monikered cottage we’ve rented, is a bit run down (check out the sound construction of the spiffy walkway in the above photo of Asta, and you'll see what I mean about rundown). Wi-fi is pretty much out of the question here. It’s full of rustic beachfront charm, but if you want your weather, then it’s the Weather Channel on the 24” Samsung TV.

Overlooking the Intercoastal Waterway in Southport

So, for this week, we will be connected to weather prognostication via a method we don’t have at home, plain ol’ twentieth-century cable television. Specifically, the Weather Channel. We’ll see how it goes....

In the meantime, we’ll have fun.

(We now leave me at the beach, reporting from last week, with a potential weather event looming over the horizon. What will happen? Stay tuned....)

Imperiled by giant tropical drinks

Solstice morning wildflower patch

2010-06-21T06:14:00.000-07:00

Last summer I decided, on a whim, to let several large swaths of the yard go unmowed. We let the grass grow all summer, dubbing these areas "the sergeneti." They were a big hit with the dogs, who loved to run through the tall grass. About mid summer, however, we plowed up a patch in the middle of this grassy spot and planted wildflowers.

A view of the wildflower bed from the deck

The results were so wonderful that this year we decided to plant a large wildflower bed in the middle of the backyard. Here's some pictures of the wildflower patch, taken on the first morning of summer, a few minutes after the actual solstice.

We planted a mixture with lots of cool, as-of-yet unidentified flowers.

Taking a solo, thank you.

Another view, highlighting the variety and color.

Bright, blue, sunward gazing.

Asta watches from the deck.

Another happy flower enjoys the Summer Solstice.

Spring hike on ye ol' familiar War Spur Loop

2010-04-12T19:28:00.000-07:00

Daffodils, itty-bitty leaves on trees, forsythia bursting out all over; yep, it's spring in our little part of Southern Appalachia. And no better way to beat the latent winter blues than a romp on our old familiar trail, War Spur Loop. We trekked up to Mountain Lake Wilderness on Sunday to hit the trail.

Verdant sward of a trail, awaiting further verdancy

The trailhead is about 3700" elevation, and often cooler than Blacksburg's 2300", so we donned our sweatshirts and fleece, but quickly removed them once we spent a few minutes in the warm, sunny mountaintop. It's still barely spring up there, with just a few things blooming. Here's a chronicle of the hike.

There wasn't a lot of spring color out yet, at least on the ground,and these red berries were easy to spot.

The last vestiges of wintertime on War Spur, mingling with nascent spring signs, make for some interesting views. Since much of the trail runs on a flat mountain, you can see the ridgelines of the surrounding mountains through the trees. Here's a set of layers, with the green laurel, the white tree flowers (never did figure out what they are) , and the distant ridgeline forming vertical lines, all framed between the brown leaves and the bright blue sky.

Baby leaves just starting to come out. Color returns to the mountain!

Looking across the valley from the War Spur Overlook really shows how spring is slowly moving from the valley up the hillsides, with the patches of brighter green just starting to emerge in the lower elevations.

Barrie relaxes in the sun

A wake of turkey buzzards was flying around the overlook while we were there.
Here's one in midflight.

Melting apace: Spring musings (first installment)

2010-03-15T03:57:00.000-07:00

Walden is melting apace. There is a canal two rods wide along the northerly and westerly sides, and wider still at the east end. A great field of ice has cracked off from the main body. I hear a song sparrow singing from the bushes on the shore -- olit, olit, olit, -- chip, chip, chip, che char, -- che wiss, wiss, wiss. He too is helping to crack it. - Thoreau, Walden

The backyard, late last week. Still snowy.

The snow is melting, the rains are falling, and spring is dropping some pretty strong hints of its imminent arrival. Folks all around the New River Valley are noting this warming - a friend at work paused in her tasks, giddily telling me that her husband called just to tell her that "the last of the snow finally melted in our yard." It's been a long, hard winter here, and we've had snow on the ground for months.

Hammock, awaiting spring.

As I write this it's just six days away from the Vernal Equinox, which officially occurs next Saturday, March 20, at 1:32 EDT. Astronomically speaking, the equinox occurs at the point when the sun crosses the equator as it moves from south to north. Day and night are roughly equal then - hence, "equinox." Here's a nifty image that shows the Earth's alignment with the sun:

Practically speaking, it means that Spring begins in just a few days, as that big ol' nearby star continues to warm our little green planet. At least that's true in the Northern Hemisphere, but our friends down below the equator will be experiencing their Autumnal Equinox, as fall starts for them.

Dog toys, long covered with snow, emerge during the Great Melting

It's been a long, eventful winter. We witnessed (and shoveled, sloughed through, slipped in, discussed, ruminated, cursed, and marveled at) Blacksburg's largest accumulative winter snowfall in years (52 inches). At home, our quarter-century old oil furnace slowly slipped into decline, finally dying the same day that our new natural gas line was run to the house. Our new, highly efficient furnace is quietly warming the house as I write. (The photo on the left documents the brief time between heaters - the oil monster is gone, the natural gas one is ready to be installed.)

On the family front, we witnessed a decline in our parents' health, with my mother moving to an assisted living facility near our house on New Years' Eve, which is the major reason that this blog has been neglected over the winter. We packed my mother's house, moved her here, and have been settling her in and dealing with her various health issues since she arrived. But spring is almost here, and the song sparrow will soon be singing from the bushes. We're quite ready for it, thank you.

Awaiting spring, Heritage Park, Blacksburg

Sources: Henry David Throeau, Walden; "The March Equinox," www.timeanddate.com

Late January Snow!

2010-01-30T14:09:00.000-08:00

Big snow in Blacksburg, January 30!

An unruly golf course lurks beneath this placid snowfield

Tee times were unavailable.

Snowboarders, sledders, and a brave runner

Yard art in snow

Snowplow chasing SUV

Asta

Bou in her fashionable attire

Snowy pix review

2010-01-28T03:45:00.000-08:00

It's been a cold, snowy winter for southwest Virginia. We've had a brief respite that melted most everything, including the big piles of shoveled stuff by the driveway, but more might be on the way this weekend. Here's a photo recap of the two snow so far:

Our hammock awaits summer.

The back deck during the big snow.

Nestling dove during the first snow.

The dogs plowed their own path to the rhodo patch during the big snow. Here Asta confronts Bou on the way back to the house, insisting that Bou stop and play. Bou is declining Asta's offer in this photo.

Asta frolics during the first snow. Malamute lineage? Perhaps.

Woods and views: photos from late November

2009-12-24T03:46:00.000-08:00

A long-belated post with some images from late November, starting with this rather aggressive looking bloom on our Christmas cactus, looking like a bright red bird of prey in our kitchen window.

Around Thanksgiving we took a brief trip to Blowing Rock, renting a cabin on a long ridge just south of town with a walk to a great view overlooking the Globe valley. Asta strolls down the rock face in the first photo, then becomes very interested in something in the woods in the second.

On the day we left the Globe valley was filled with fog, and you can see Table Rock and Hawksbill Mountain jutting above the low-lying cloud.

I spent some time walking around in the woods (no surprise there), taking these photos of the forest floor, complete with glassy trash:

Random mossy things on the forest floor

Bottom of a wet leaf

Buried bottle, bottom side up, ensconced in leaves

Fuzzy plant

NovPhotos: Day 6: Jesus in the waning light

2009-11-07T04:46:00.000-08:00

Statuary of Jesus and lambs in the Sunrise cemetery in Fairlawn, Virginia. Taken at sunset.

NovPhotos: Day 5: Dawn and Dusk

2009-11-06T03:27:00.000-08:00

Dawn, a few minutes before sunrise, from our backyard

Dusk, a few minutes after sunset, from our front yard

NovPhotos: Day 4 - Morning light after a hard frost

2009-11-04T20:03:00.000-08:00

A hard frost and a bright sunny morning led to these photos.

A raspberry leaf.

Frost on an oak leaf

NovPhotos: Day 3 - Misty New River, with Geese

2009-11-03T13:54:00.000-08:00

As I drove into Radford this morning I could see mist rising above New River. I drove down to the river and found these geese hanging out on both ends of the island that's just behind the Radford University campus.

NovPhotos: Day 2 - Bou on the sofa

2009-11-02T05:34:00.000-08:00

Bou sleeping on the couch cushions, with morning light behind her. Canvas looks and other treatments added in Photoshop.

NovPhotos: November Photo Project: Day 1

2009-11-01T16:15:00.000-08:00

NovPhotos is my winter project to post photos 5-7 times per week throughout November, more or less.

Here's the first round, starting with a view of Catawba Valley from Blacksburg taken on Halloween. The clouds were zipping across the sky yesterday morning as a front came through, and sunlight was peeking through. Here it covers the mountain at valley's end:

Some residual kitchen window Halloween decorations, plus our oddly spotted, bright orange/yellow mini pumpkin:

Same view, only focusing on the Christmas cactus that's thinking about blooming. Seasons change, ya' know:

Wither goest thou, "Indian summer"?

2009-10-27T20:15:00.000-07:00

It’s been a pleasant Indian summer, with the temperature reaching summer-like peaks last weekend in Blackburg. This is a much-beloved mid-season, a time when waning warm fall days stand in sharp contrast to impending cold weather. Whiffs of the immediate past pleasantly cloud the knowledge that it's going to get really cold, and not too long from now. It's heady stuff for writers and poets.

All this got me thinking about the origins of this peculiar term - "Indian summer." When and where did it creep into our language? Opinions abound, and the research is less than definitive, but here’s a bit of what I’ve found, interspersed with some fall photos.

A branch over Bass Lake, near Blowing Rock, NC.

According to Charles Cutler, in his O Brave New Words!: Native American Loanwords in Current English, the term “Indian summer” is one of the many 18th Century “Indianisms” European settlers inserted into the burgeoning American version of the English language. Many of these nascent words and terms that were creeping into that odd beast we call American English were martial in nature (warpath, war club, war dances), reflecting, no doubt, the Native Americans' ongoing response to European provocations. In this light, Cutler believes that “Indian summer" was dubbed “one of the gentlest” of Native-American influenced terms. Cutler also noted that this period of mild autumnal weather was known in Europe by many other names, including St. Martin’s Day, Old Wives’ summer, and All-Hallow summer. The English language, like the settlers themselves, seemed eager to adapt, assimilate, and conquer.

Cutler continues: Several theories seek to explain the substitution of Indian summer in U.S. usage. In 1832, the Boston Transcript suggested that the name arose because this time of year occurs when "Indians break up their village communities, and go to the interior to prepare for their winter hunting." Some people more romantically derive the name from the similarity of the season's haze to the smoke from Indian fires. Others offer the explanation that Indians forewarned whites about the short-lived respite before winter or suggest simply that Indian summer is most noticeable in regions once inhabited by Indians.

The maple next door. A nice one.

Meteorologists, not surprisingly, have also weighed in. William Deedler of the National Weather Services states that Indian summer is generally considered a "period of considerably above normal temperatures, accompanied by dry and hazy conditions ushered in on a south or southwesterly breeze." Many consider that these conditions must occur after one hard freeze.

Candles on the deck catching the late afternoon sun.

One of the earliest descriptions of Indian summer comes from Francis Parkman, who wrote in "History of the Conspiracy of Pontiac" (1851):

...then succeeded that gentler season which bears among us the name of the Indian summer; when a light haze rests upon the moving landscape, and the many-colored woods seem wrapped in the thin drapery of a veil; when the air is mild and calm as that of early June, and at evening the sun goes down amid a warm, voluptuous beauty, that may well outrival the softest tints of Italy. But through all the still and breathless afternoon, the leaves have fallen fast in the woods, like flakes of snow, and everything betokens that the last melancholy change is at hand.

But not all sources cite Native Americans as the inspiration for the term. Some look - aghast - to British interactions with the subcontinent of India itself. Several scholars think the term comes from the nautical lexicon of British sailing ships trading with India. In a 1923 article in Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society, Robert de C. Ward reports that "under the Regulations of the British Board of Trade one of the load-lines on ships bears the initial letters 'I. S.,' this indicating the maximum depth to which vessels can be loaded for voyages during the 'Indian summer,' which means the fine weather season in the Indian seas." India Pale Ale, anyone?

Henry David Thoreau praised fall foliage in his essay "Autumnal Tints," first published in The Atlantic Monthly in October 1962. He describes the purple grasses, leaves, elms, oaks, and various maples. Of the red maple he says "all the sunny warmth of the season, the Indian summer, seems to be absorbed in their leaves."

And in my little world, no set of autumn photos would be complete without some of Asta frolicking. Here's her enjoying a warm Indian summer afternoon, oblivious to any silly essays. Locked in the moment. Put that camera down and throw the tennis ball.

Asta takes a final sniff from our wildflower patch before the first freeze.

And goes dashing off toward the tennis ball.

In Blacksburg, the forecast is calling for highs in the 60's through the end of October. As Emily Dickinson said, the skies will put on "the old sophistries of June." Enjoy it you can; I know I will.

INDIAN SUMMER

These are the days when birds come back,
A very few, a bird or two,
To take a backward look.

These are the days when skies put on
The old, old sophistries of June, -
A blue and gold mistake.

Oh, fraud that cannot cheat the bee,
Almost thy plausibility
Induces my belief,

Till ranks of seeds their witness bear,
And softly through the altered air
Hurries a timid leaf!

Oh, sacrament of summer days,
Oh, last communion in the haze,
Permit a child to join,

Thy sacred emblems to partake,
Thy consecrated bread to break,
Taste thine immortal wine!

-Emily Dickinson

Sources: O Brave New Words!: Native American Loanwords in Current English
by Charles L. Cutler, 1994.

Henry David Thoreau, "Autumnal Tints," The Atlantic Monthly, October 1862, published on the American Transcendentalism Web.

"The 'Indian Summer' as a Characteristic Weather Type of the Eastern United States", by
Robert de C. Ward, Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society, Vol. 62, No. 2 (1923)

"Just what is Indian summer...." by William R. Deedler, National Weather Service. NWS website. (1996)

A note on citation style: this is formatted however I please, thank you.

Caswell Beach - September 2009

2009-09-15T12:56:00.000-07:00

We spent the week of Labor Day at Caswell Beach, NC, on the eastern end of Oak Island, a barrier island just south of the mouth of Cape Fear River. Oak Island is an old, familiar place for us. We've been going there as long as I can remember going to the beach, my grandfather having built a cottage on Oak Island in 1960. Mostly unmarred by high-rise condos, hotels, and bars, it's a quiet beach where it's easy to relax, which is pretty much all we did the entire week. These photos document that trip.

The first day or so was rainy and cool, forcing us to don raingear for beach walks. Still, the beach has a unique beauty when it's gray and overcast:

By Tuesday the rain had ended, and we enjoyed partly sunny skies (as the more upbeat weatherpeople phrase it) for the rest of the week. Looking north from the beach in front of our cottage late in the afternoon shows the Oak Island Lighthouse on the left. To the right, across the mouth of Cape Fear River, is Bald Head Island, where an older lighthouse ("Old Baldy") still stands. Old Baldy was operational from 1817 until the Oak Island Lighthouse was built in 1958.

Below is the Google maps satellite image of our little stretch of Caswell Beach. We stayed in the second cottage from the right. Zoom out and you can see Caswell Beach, Cape Fear River, and Bald Head Island. Note how Caswell Beach is south facing.

View Larger Map

Back on the ground, here's the view looking out our back door.

Zoom in a bit and you'll see our festive beach umbrella, with Barrie actively engaging in beach-inspired relaxation.

The beach umbrella was our second effort at shade. Our first attempt was a nylon tripod structure we dubbed the "shade shack" (yep, to the tune of the B52's "Love Shack"). We set it up early in the week, and it did great until the wind picked up, when, as you might guess, the whole shack shimmied and fell down. Bad design. So we went the traditional, multi-hued beach umbrella route and it was a great success. But here's the view from under the shade shack:

Asta, our main mutt, and Bou, our backup utility beagle, had a great time at the beach, after a bit of acclimating. They loved to sit and stare out the screen door at the many other dogs that were at the beach.

And here they are hanging out with Barrie on the beach. The myriad of changing smells is a beagle's paradise, as Bou cheerfully demonstrates.

A few obligatory beach-level shots:

Scurrying bird tracks

Shell and sand. Itty-bitty grains. Lots of them.

A mess of stuff. Pine needles, fishing line, seaweed.

We drove over to Southport for lunch and to check out art galleries early in the week. We ate at a dockside place called Fishy Fishy Cafe, and the main entrance was blocked by water in the road during high tide. Here's a few images from our visit to this lovely harbor town:

Gadzooks! Could it be sharks attacking the stars and stripes?

Fishmongering for the gated-community set.

Extras assembling for a casting call for a remake of The Birds.

On the western end of Oak Island is Long Beach, where my grandfather built this cottage in 1960. The last time I saw it was 7 or 8 years ago, after several hurricanes had stripped the beach away, torn out all the plumbing and powerlines, and left it a box on stilts, looking for all the world like it would fall into the surf. Much to my amazement, they've pumped up sand from the river basin and rebuilt the dunes! And Daddy John's cottage still stands. That's it on the far right, shabby but respectable.

Every May sea turtles come up on the beaches of Oak Island and lay their eggs. I've been fortunate to witness this a few times, and it's quite a sight. Caswell Beach is a sea turtle sanctuary and has an active Sea Turtle Watch. This nest was near our cottage:

The nest below was down the beach a bit, and the Sea Turtle Watch has installed long borders on the nest below to guide the newly-hatched turtles back to the beach. You can check out an active record of this season's nest activity on this website.

As mentioned, Caswell Beach faces south, so the sun sets over the water, which is atypical for Atlantic beaches. Here's a few sunset shots, the first with Barrie walking Bou:

Good bye!

Blacksburg sunset, July 2009

2009-07-28T03:06:00.000-07:00

The evening after huge thunderstorms rolled through brought this sunset:

You can just barely see the sun through the trees on Brush Mountain.

Looking east revealed this beautiful cloud, with distant thunder rumbling.

Dusk in the New River Valley.

High Summer Photos

2009-07-26T05:00:00.001-07:00

Some garden and trail photos:

Squash blossom maturing into squash.

Tomato blossom.

Less ominous squash blossom.

Backlit leaves, War Spur Trail.

Another backlit leaf. I love how the light filters through the forest in the afternoon.

A very scary looking Indian Pipe near War Spur Trail.

Orbicular

2009-07-20T18:12:00.000-07:00

Orbicular:
1. Having the shape of a flat ring or disk
2. having a rounded convex or globular shape

A collection of round items, inspired by the 40th anniversary of the first moonwalk:

Puddle on a locked metal plate, Blacksburg golf course

Kerosene lamp globe from my grandmother's house

Inside Mabry Mill

Melting icicle

Beer cisterns

Curved roof

Our house from space...

2009-07-12T06:37:00.000-07:00

Where we live, as seen from the eye in the sky. The image is a bit dated, and appears to be a year or so before we moved in. Now there's two dogs in the yard, and life used to be so hard, now everything is easy....

View Larger Map

Thanks to Google maps. And Graham Nash.

Point Cabrillo Lighthouse

2009-07-02T07:48:00.001-07:00

A few miles north of the Mendocino Headlands is Point Cabrillo, another landmass that juts out into the Pacific Ocean. The Point is home to Point Cabrillo Light Station and a state park. There are lovely views of the ocean and beautiful cliffs that plunge into the ocean. Here's some photos:

Sunset one evening, with a blustery 20-25 mph wind and temperatures in the mid-40s. It was quite chilly on the headland.

We stayed at the Lighthouse Inn, the renovated lightkeeper's house.

The lighthouse is surrounded by a 270 acre nature preserve.

The lighthouse. More of a house than a tower, in contrast to the tall lighthouses we're used to on the North Carolina coast.

Mendocino

2009-06-30T19:22:00.000-07:00

We spent four days in the Mendocino coastal area, and it was my favorite part of the trip. The coast is unlike anything I've experienced before, a truly beautiful place. Our first two nights were at the Stanford Inn by the Sea, which ranks as my favorite hotel/lodging of all time. The room was great, the rate included a remarkable breakfast at Ravens, their vegetarian restaurant -- everything was wonderful. This is a view from our balcony, overlooking the organic gardens. You can just see the Pacific through the hazy air:

Mendocino itself is a small village crouched on the Mendocino headlands, which jut out into the Pacific. Years ago the fields and cliffs surrounding the town were preserved as Mendocino Headlands State Park, so you have this great little Victorian-esque town with a great oceanside park surrounding it. Nothing quite like it. We spent a few days hanging out in town and walking through the fields and along the cliffs.

The headlands are surrounding with cliffs and trails. Here's a sample.

Barrie on one of the trails. It was very windy and chilly.

It seemed to be peak wildflower season, and the fields and cliffsides were covered with unfamiliar Pacific coast flora.

Looking back from the cliffs across the fields to the town proper.

Two churches caught my eye - the above was a bank, with a couple of battling lesser angelic types on top. It appeared to be a celestial mugging of sorts. Did I mention this was a bank?

A nice, colorful transformation from church to organic grocery.

Happy hikers on the headlands.

Kinetic Museum & Avenue of the Giants

2009-06-12T03:22:00.001-07:00

Leaving Eureka, we headed south a bit to Ferndale to visit the Kinetic Museum, a small but cheerful place dedicated to traveling artwork that competes in the annual Kinetic Grand Championship race from Arcata to Ferndale. Folk art on the move! Here's a few of the vehicles housed in the museum:

Following that, we continued down the Redwood Highway en route to the coast near Mendocino. Running parallel to the Redwood Highway, a zippy quick four lane, is the old road that meanders between redwood trees and the Eel River in Humboldt Redwoods State Park.

A typical stretch of the road in the Avenue of the Giants.

Zoom goes the automobile, your intrepid photographer gleefully capturing pixels from the passenger seat.

The visitor's center at the state park featured this truck (the "Travel-log") carved from a single redwood trunk.

Back door of the Travel-log.

Lost Coast Brewery & Samoa Dunes

2009-05-23T08:26:00.000-07:00

Now that we're back in Virginia and reliable internet connections, it's time to catch up with posts from our western swing. As you'll recall, my last post chronicled our day in the redwoods.

What could be better than ending a day among giant trees than enjoying regional microbrews? (he asks rhetorically) So we paid a visit to Lost Coast Brewery, which makes beers that are proudly :"brewed fresh in the Humboldt Nation." They make a great IPA, their Indica IPA (which I've discovered is available here in Blacksburg at Vintage Cellar, our great local purveyor of beer & wine). They also make a very tasty fruit-flavored beer, their Tangerine Wheat, which is an ideal summer beverage. One of the treats of Lost Coast's products is the artwork of Duane Flatmo, who creates all their labels, including the wonderful Indica IPA label at the left, complete with a stylized version of the god Ganesh.

The following day we spent hanging out around Eureka, starting with a trip out to the Samoa Dunes Recreation Area. Somoa Dunes is on the end of a barrier island that protects Humboldt Bay, and its one of those recreation areas includes both a protected ecosystem (dunes, in this case), as well as off-road vehicle access to the beach.

Some photos of the dunes and vegetation:

The dunes were site of defensive fortifications during WWII, when there was a fear of Japanese invasion, so there are concrete bunker/ammunition posts scattered throughout the dunes. Apparently they didn't actually have real canon, but used redwood tree trunks to fool enemy ships into thinking that some really big canon awaited them.

After strolling through the dunes, we went out to the beach and walked out on the breakwater that protects the entrance to Humboldt Bay. Here's a few photos from the end of the breakwater, which appears to be anchored by giant concrete jacks. You can see the beach we walked down, along with the hills just on the other side of Eureka.

"From the Redwood Forests..."

2009-05-19T16:53:00.000-07:00

Beaches in northern California are markedly different than the sandy, warm water places I'm accustomed to in North Carolina, those famously washed by the Gulf Stream waters (Woody Guthrie fans please take note to this last allusion). We headed up to Redwoods National Park yesterday, and after yet another beautiful drive, you crest a ridge to find this stretch of beach:

Barrie checking out the shore.

Beach vegetation.

At the end of the beach is the Redwoods National Park visitor center, where we got trail information and did the tourist thing for a while. A bit disconcerting were the warnings for "sneaker waves," large waves that suddenly emerge from deceptively calm surf and roar up on the beach. They've swept four people to their deaths in the area over the last few years. "Don't turn your back on the ocean," the signs warn.

After strolling on the beach for a while, we took a hike on the Trillium Falls Loop Trail, filled with old growth redwood trees. The best word I can muster for a walk among these giants is "humbling." The oldest of these trees are nearly 2000 years old, over 370 feet tall, and up to 22 feet in diameter. Here are some photos from that hike, with more to come when I get back home and have access to better photo editing software.

Barrie walking between two trees. Just for perspective.

This is a temperate rainforest, and the ground is moist and filled with ferns, groundcover, unfamiliar wildflowers, and huge, deep piles of redwood needles.

This tree trunk was head-high, and like nearly everything in the forest, covered with moisture and moss.

Looking uphill. Ferns abound.

Trillium Falls

More groundcover.

North from San Francisco on the California coastline

2009-05-18T21:03:00.000-07:00

Cross continental travel is so commonplace that we should, theoretically, just take it matter-of-factly. Hop in a plane one morning in North Carolina, sit down for a while in a few planes, and arrive in San Francisco at the end of the day. Of course it's commonplace, but I'm still reeling in the wonder of it all. We had some unexpected good fortune when we went to pick up our rental car. Our long-reserved car wasn't ready, so we were offered an upgrade to a Toyota Solara convertible with a GPS at no additional charge. We quickly agreed and took off, car top down and grinning.

Looking south to SF from Muir Beach

So here we are, 48 hours after landing in northern California, and we've traveled from San Francisco up to Eureka. Our first night was spent at Half Moon Bay, a tourist town on the coast south of San Francisco that was made famous, at least to me, by the fact that a Bill Evans album was recorded there in 1973 (sponsored by the curiously named Bach Dancing and Dynamite Society, which still hosts live jazz on Sundays) . Being mostly exhausted after sitting down all day, yet miraculously traveling 2500 miles, we opted for a quick beer and a meal at the Half Moon Bay Brewing Company, a great seaside bar with a live blues band, some very fine salads and microbrews, and decor that included fire pits on the patio, a stained-glass Steal Your Face Dead sign hanging over the mantle, and surfboards on the wall. Our hotel was beside a run-down little house with wetsuits hanging outside and surfboards in the yard.

Looking north on Hwy 1

The next day we drove up Hwy 1 through Pacifica, into San Francisco, across the Golden Gate Bridge, and then into Sausalito. Needing some provisions, we were seeking a Target, and decided to try out our GPS system. Being total novices to these gizmos (but outfitted some a handful of amusing anecdotes about their idiosyncratic natures from some GPS equipped friends), we asked for directions to the nearest Target. We were sent 16 miles to a Target that was long abandoned. We regrouped, asked again, cross-referenced against one of those antiquated print items called a "map," and were successfully sent to a Target that was actually open for business.

Provisions in hand, we decided to head over to Hwy 1 to Stinson Beach and catch lunch at the Parkside Cafe, which was highly lauded in the California Lonely Planet guidebook. It was such a great idea that it seems like a hefty hunk of San Fanciscans had also thought of it, and we found ourselves in a mile-long traffic jam on Hwy 1, with everybody slowly heading to Stinson Beach to discover that there wasn't any parking in the entire town. So we turned around and heading to the Green Gulch Farm, where we had a room for the night. We stopped a few times on the way to take a few photos and enjoy the view.

Traffic jam on Hwy 1 heading to Stinson Beach on a beautiful Sunday afternoon. Actually, as traffic jams go, this one wasn't too shabby thanks to this view.

Green Gulch Farm is a working organic farm and Buddhist retreat center run by the San Francisco Zen Center, and provided a beautiful, restful respite after our day of driving around the Bay area. We had a room in their guest house, a Japanese-influenced building, and our stay included an amazing vegetarian dinner with the students and residents at the Zen center. (The Zen Center publishes the Tassajara cookbooks and runs the famous Greens restaurant in SF, so they know a bit about veggie cooking. After dinner we walked down Green Gulch through ornamental gardens and acres of organic lettuce and other vegetables down to Muir Beach, encountering quail, a snake, deer, many other birds, and a fox along the way. Somehow, it didn't seem quite right to take photos during our stay, so you'll have to follow the links above to see this wonderful place.

We headed north the next morning, finally making it to Parkside Cafe for breakfast, then heading north on Hwy 1 through misty fog. We stopped at the Point Reyes National Seashore visitor center to stretch our legs, which happens to be on the San Andreas fault line. We took a stroll on the Earthquake Trail, which straddle the fault. The picture below shows a fence that was split during the 1906 earthquake - moving about 20 feet or so. The blue pole behind Barrie is on the fault line itself.

Barrie standing on the Pacific plate. These fences were joined prior to the 1906 quake.

We encountered this shy prairie dog on the Earthquake Trail, who kept poking his head out to see what we were doing near his lair.

We continued north on Hwy 1 to Bodega and Bodega Bay, where Alfred Hitchcock shot a few scenes from The Birds. Here's a few photos from our Hwy 1 expedition:

View of Tomales Bay. Note the lack of an automobile roof!

Pastoral setting near Bodega.

The church in Bodega where a scene from The Birds was shot. We encountered other Hitchcock fans here and talked about scenes from the film.

After visiting Bodega we left the coastal highway and went inland to Hwy 101, the Redwood Highway, then drove another 200 miles north through miles of vineyards, beautiful hills, and redwood trees. We reached Eureka in the early evening, very happy and ready to relax for the evening. A foggy day is predicted for tomorrow. Fun will ensue. Stay posted.

Some Springy Photos (with geeky OED citation)

2009-04-29T03:11:00.000-07:00

Springy : "1. b. Characteristic of the season of spring; spring-like."

I discovered this wheelbarrow full of avian domiciles parked in a front yard during a long walk around the neighborhood. I haven't followed up to see if any of these actually made it out of the wheelbarrow, or if this is some form of mobile cluster housing for birds. No evidence that any of these birdhouses are for your soul:

We saw this pair of rainbows last weekend after an afternoon thundershower. The view is from Flat Top Road between Boone and Blowing Rock, NC:

There it is! The end of the rainbow!

This indigo bunting lighted on the hedge beside a friend's house on the Watauga River near Sugar Grove, NC:

An Easter morning photo taken behind my mother's house in North Carolina:

And, finally, an enthusiastic Bou in our backyard, eagerly wanting to know what I'm doing with the camera:

There you go. A springy set. And now, as promised, "springy" from the OED:

springy, a. (from the Oxford English Dictionary)

1.

a. Growing in the season of spring. Obs.¹
1593 QUEEN ELIZABETH Boeth. I. metr. vi. 16 Nor seake not thou with gredy hand The springy Palmes [L. vernos palmites] to weld. [Cf. SPRINGINESS 2b.]
b. Characteristic of the season of spring; spring-like.
1860 S. WARNER Say & Seal II. xviii. 229 It was April now, and a soft springy day. 1936 N. COWARD To-night at 8.30 III. 85 Quite Springy out, isn't it?
2. a. Characterized by the presence of springs of water.
1641 BEST Farm Bks. (Surtees) 4 Lowe, moist, and springy groundes are the best to increase milke in an ewe. 1733 W. ELLIS Chiltern & Vale Farm. 262 It will greatly improve springy, or over-wet Grounds, if we first drain them. 1799 [A. YOUNG] Agric. Lincoln. 245 Many similar springy sides of hills are to be met with all the way to Ranby. 1853 Jrnl. R. Agric. Soc. XIV. I. 36 Occasional parts of the field were found springy and full of water. 1865 MRS. WHITNEY Gayworthys xxvi. (1879) 250 A huge, dry slippery log that lay over a springy spot.
b. Coming from springs. rare¹.
1653 W. BLITHE Eng. Improver Impr. 19 That thou maist goe under that..springie moysture that breeds and feeds the Rush.
3. a. Endowed with spring or elasticity.
1660 BOYLE New Exp. Phys. Mech. i. 27 Though the Air were granted to consist of Springy Particles. 1685 emem}" align="absbottom" border="0" height="14" width="26"> Effects Motion ii. 14 Which depends chiefly upon the Celerity of the springy Corpuscles of the Air. 1709 FLOYER Cold Bathing I. iv. 93 The Animal Spirits being compressed, are more lively, springy, and fitter for Motion. 1734 Phil. Trans. XXXVIII. 414 Her Hair was long and springy as that of a living Person. 1786 Med. Comment. II. 105 The tumor..was a little springy. 1817 KEATS Sleep & Poetry 95 A laughing schoolboy..Riding the springy branches of an elm. 1839 F. A. KEMBLE Resid. in Georgia (1863) 36 Moss..as light as horse-hair, as springy, and elastic. 1887 RIDER HAGGARD Allan Quatermain 67 A light but exceedingly tough native wood, something like English ash, only more springy.
b. Of the muscles or body, or of persons, etc., with reference to these.
1776 MICKLE tr. Camoens' Lusiad 454 Their springy shoulders stretching to the blow. 1822 SCOTT Peveril ii, He satisfied himself..that though her little frame was slight, it was firm and springy. 1837 Fraser's Mag. XVI. 367 The prompt equerry had led the springy coursers to the gate. 1871 L. STEPHEN Playgr. Eur. (1894) xiii. 324 His muscles feel firm and springy.
c. Elastic to the tread.
1797 COLERIDGE This lime-tree bower my prison 7 Friends, whom I never more may meet again On springy heath. 1875 W. S. HAYWARD Love agst. World 13 Away they thundered over the springy turf. 1886 Cornh. Mag. July 58 The stage is..very ‘springy’, a condition designed to help acrobatic performances.
4. Marked or characterized by spring, elasticity, or resilience: a. In general use.
1669 W. SIMPSON Hydrol. Chym. 93 The springy motion of the animal spirits. 1672-3 GREW Anat. Pl., Roots II. (1682) 82 The Aer being of an Elastick or Springy Nature. 1710 T. FULLER Pharm. Extemp. 249 It..roborates the Springey Tone of the Lungs. 1741 A. MONRO Anat. Bones (ed. 3) 171 In raising the Trunk, these Cartilages will assist by their springy Force. 1837 JAMES Phil. Augustus I. ii, There was a springy vigour in the atmosphere, as if the wind itself were young. 1888 RUTLEY Rock-Forming Min. 193 Then drive a needle, by a sharp, springy tap.., into the mica. 1893 Brit. Jrnl. Photogr. XL. 745 Resisting with all its springy power.
b. esp. Of the bearing or movements of persons or animals.
1818 Sporting Mag. II. 166 His attitude was springy, and ready for quick action. 1820 SCOTT Monast. xxxii, The springy step..reminded Henry Warden of Halbert. 1889 ‘R. BOLDREWOOD’ Robbery under Arms xx, Rainbow [a horse] sailed off with his beautiful easy springy stride.

Hard frost's A-Gonna Fall

2009-04-21T03:16:00.000-07:00

We had a hard frost this week, hopefully the last of the season. I took these photos in the backyard just as the sun was reaching the yard. The first photo was taken with the frost intact:

While this one was a few feet away in the sun:

Appalachian native wins second NCAA national championship

2009-04-07T06:13:00.001-07:00

Appalachian native Roy Williams, head coach of the North Carolina Tar Heels, led his team to the NCAA Men's Basketball National Championship last night. The Tar Heels defeated Michigan State 89-72 to win North Carolina's second national championship under Williams, who also won in 2005. It was North Carolina's fifth NCAA men's basketball championship overall.

Williams spent his early years in the Appalachian towns of Marion and Spruce Pine, NC, but as a young child his family moved to Biltmore, outside of Asheville, NC. Williams was raised near the famous Biltmore Estate, the megamansion built by robber baron George Vanderbilt in the nineteenth century. Williams attended T. C. Roberson High School, where he earned letters in basketball and baseball.

A 2003 article by Ed Hardin, in the Greensboro, NC, News & Record, discussed Williams' years in Biltmore :

"I've never even been inside it," Williams said (of the Biltmore House)...He lived on another hill in a tiny white house under two giant hardwoods.

Williams escaped from these hills in a Ford Mustang, and he fully intended to come home forever. His mother died in 1992 and his alcoholic father moved a few years back... "My mother was my hero," he said. "She was a very intelligent, uneducated lady who only went through the 10th grade. She always said, 'You just try to do the right thing, and sometimes the right thing is not necessarily what you want to do, but you do the right thing.' "
"When I was a youngster I dreamed of playing at North Carolina," he said. "Then I dreamed of coaching at North Carolina. You may not believe this, but I never dreamed of being a head coach at North Carolina. I always dreamed of being coach Smith's assistant."
T.C. Roberson High School sits far off the main road, located on the banks of Lake Julian just below the Blue Ridge Parkway. The gym is named for Buddy Baldwin, the Roberson basketball coach who would become Williams' mentor.
Baldwin said that was something he found out later.
"You don't know about things like that at the time," he said. "I knew Roy when he came in the ninth grade. He played basketball, and he played baseball. He was a little guy, but he loved the game, and he worked really, really hard at it."
Basketball would be his way out, and he determined that early on.
"Roy could've done anything he wanted," Baldwin said. "And I mean anything. He was a very good student - a Morehead scholarship nominee. He had an offer to go to Georgia Tech on an engineering scholarship, but he wanted to be a coach."
Williams went to UNC where he met Smith and soon became a student of Smith's game. Williams was allowed to watch UNC practices. Upon graduation, Williams headed back to the mountains to start his career.
"You look at his teams now, you can see his teams at Owen," Baldwin said. "They had very little talent when he first started, but they developed quickly. They played very hard, and he played a lot of what Carolina did - run-and-jump, man-to-man defense. He played a lot of kids, not just the six or seven best. He played all of them, alternating them in and out. He took what he'd learned and did what he could with it."
Williams learned he wanted to coach forever. He learned he wanted to coach like Buddy Baldwin and Dean Smith. And as much as it hurt him, he learned he'd have to get out of western North Carolina to do it.
"If I have something I like, I usually stick with it," he said last week. "It's hard for me to leave and do something else. I've had the same putter for 34 years, and the same wife for 29."
Change comes slow to the mountains. The appeal of small towns like Biltmore and even the larger mountain towns such as Asheville is the slow evolution over time.
While Biltmore looks the same to the occasional tourist, the locals believe it's changed dramatically.
"It's been like an explosion," Baldwin said.
Williams would recognize his old neighborhood. Not much has changed since the day he left. The explosion of upscale homes and coffee shops and eclectic restaurants happened elsewhere. He likely wouldn't have much time for them.
His memories of home are of his mother and of the basketball courts at Biltmore Elementary, where he learned the game of basketball and discovered a way out. The irony on the hill, the giant Biltmore Estate that turned away locals while turning a profit on the tourists, was never a part of his world.
"I used to sneak onto the grounds," Williams recalled a few years back. "We'd steal sugar cane poles for the pole vaulters in high school. But I never went in."
There's an expanse between the haves and have-nots here, and it forms a person from an early age. There are million-dollar homes just off Hendersonville Road, and there are places like 6 Warren Ave.
Of course, that's the history of this place. Asheville looks just as it did decades ago when much of the state and the nation was blowing up old buildings to make way for new ones. Asheville couldn't afford to do it, so there's an old charm that can never be reproduced or bought.
Thomas Wolfe said the mountains beckon you to leave and then call you back home. People who leave here do come back again, and most haven't changed a bit. Williams doesn't come back as much as he used to, but he does from time to time. And when he does, he calls Baldwin, his old basketball coach, and they go play golf.
"Roy's the same now as he was way back then," Baldwin said.

Sources: News & Record, Greensboro, NC, April 20, 2003./ Photos from ESPN.com

On the Mall: DC/Baltimore scenes Part II

2009-04-06T05:06:00.000-07:00

"The Mall" certainly has different meanings since the post WWII rise of suburbia and the development of indoor shopping centers known as "malls." But the National Mall, that 3 mile stretch of public space between the Lincoln Memorial and the U. S. Capitol building, lined by the Smithsonian and other museums, is a unique and wonderful place, packed with history and culture. This last trip was our first time to DC in over a decade, and I kept looking down the Mall, trying to envision it packed with over a million people. It's where Martin Luther King gave his "I Have a Dream" speech, and where, just a few months ago, Barack Obama was inaugurated. Given the right inclination and outlook, the Mall can be a goose-bumpy kind of place (yes, even for those of us who would be labeled "pinko" in another era). The satellite photo on the left was taken on January 20, 2009, the day that the Constitutionally-mandated transition of power from Bush to Obama occurred.

Our Mall trip focused on the National Museum of the American Indian (NMAI) and the East wing of the National Gallery of Art. After getting off the Metro at the Smithsonian station, we strolled past the Smithsonian "castle," to discover this lovely garden beside it. These rain-splattered pansies added a splash of color to the gray, overcast day. Then on past the Air & Space Museum, with its throngs of kids flowing in and out of school buses, to the NMAI.

The NMAI is an amazing place, starting with the architecture. Landscaped to reflect the native lands pre-contact with Europeans, the building itself was designed in consultation with members of the Blackfoot, Cherokee/Choctaw, Diné/Oneida and Hopi nations. Every detail of the museum had significant input from Native Americans, and many exhibits includes specific references to the individuals who consulted from various Nations. Ongoing, active citation of the exhibit sources. A nice touch that provides some sense of authenticity.

The main area of the interior is more than four stories tall, and resembles a giant kiva with light coming from the sky:

"Our Universes" is a permanent exhibit describing the cosmologies and philosophies of eight native tribes. The exhibit doors feature this raven eating the sun:

As well as this description of the moon. Note the specific citation:

After several mesmerizing hours in the NMAI, we walked across the Mall to the East Wing of the National Gallery of Art. Our first stop was the cafe for a snack, which is located on the concourse below street level that links the East and West Wings of the Gallery, and is joined by a long moving walkway. Covering the walkway is Multiverse, a moving light display by artist Leo Villareal. Featuring 41,000 LED nodes that pulsate and move in a series of patterns, it's an amazing work of computer-generated light art. (Macophiles take note: it's run by a small Mini Mac)

Finally, upstairs to see the permanent exhibits. Here's Barrie in the main room, gazing up at the Calder mobile:

Sattelite photo source: Popular Science

Visionary Art Museum: DC/Baltimore Scenes Part 1

2009-03-30T18:38:00.000-07:00

After a lengthy blog hiatus in the wake of the February Photo project, it's time to rev-up the postings as spring blooms. We just came back from a long weekend in the DC/Baltimore area, and spent a lovely Sunday afternoon at the American Visionary Art Museum on Baltimore's Inner Harbor. As they say on their website:

What is visionary art?
Like love, you know it when you see it. But here's the longer definition, straight out of our Mission Statement: "Visionary art as defined for the purposes of the American Visionary Art Museum refers to art produced by self-taught individuals, usually without formal training, whose works arise from an innate personal vision that revels foremost in the creative act itself." In short, visionary art begins by listening to the inner voices of the soul, and often may not even be thought of as 'art' by its creator.

The fun starts before you enter the building, as you're greeted by a giant whirligig by artist Vollis Simpson:

Also outside is this nice egg/nest combo:

Barrie ponders the giant egg:

There's a big barn with large open doors and this chess set on the floor:

After our AVAM visit we strolled around the Inner Harbor waterfront on a warm, sunny March Sunday, resisting the temptation to scoot along the water in the colorful dragons:

They don't allow photos inside AVAM, which really limits what I show here. It's three floors of marvelous art, including a giant scale model of the Lusitania made entirely out of matchsticks, lots of interactive artistic gizmos and sculptures, a wonderful photo gallery of various crop-circle influenced "field art" that adorns the curved staircase, a life-size statue of Icarus that slowly spins and lowers on a cable down the center of the staircase....and lots more.

March snowstorm in Blacksburg

2009-02-28T08:09:00.000-08:00

An early March snowstorm brought 9 inches of snow to our house, closed work on Monday, and generally made for a beautiful Sunday and Monday. In like a lion, indeed, but an aesthetically pleasing one. Here's a photo essay of the snowstorm:

Early afternoon on Sunday, and we had about 1-2 inches of snow at that time. Barrie had just left for the store, leaving these tracks in the driveway.

By mid-afternoon the snow showed no signs of abating, with bouts of heavy snow. Here's Asta in the backyard in the heavy snow.

Oddly, we didn't light the tiki torches during the afternoon snowstorm.

Much to my surprise, it continued snowing all night, and we woke up to 8-9 inches in the backyard. I had to shovel the back steps a bit so that Bou and Asta could make it down to the yard. Here they are running back in after a brisk play session.

Monday morning, a clear sky, and lots of snow in the front yard.

The white "cloud" in the middle of the photo is snow blowing off the trees.

A handful of robins were sitting in the trees behind our house, all puffed up to keep warm. While taking this photo another robin streaked past these three.

Icicles on the back gutters.

Jake Walk Blues: FebPhotos Day 22

2009-02-24T03:01:00.000-08:00

I can't eat, I can't talk
Drinking mean jake, Lord
I can't walk

- "Jake Walk Blues," recorded by the Allen Brothers, 1930

In his 2003 New Yorker article, "Jake Leg: How the blues diagnosed a medical mystery," Dan Baum told the tale of John Morgan's quest to find medical meaning in the wide variety of "Jake Leg" songs recorded in the early-to-mid 20th century. Morgan, a self-described "pharmaco-ethnomusicologist," was interested in the mysterious ailment called "jake leg," a form of paralysis that was repeatedly alluded to in blues songs. Through methodical research, Morgan discovered the "jake" was "Jamaica Ginger Extract," a concoction that was marketed to cure "catarrh, flatulence, and 'late menstruation.'" It was 85% alcohol, and because it was a "medicine," it was legal to sell during Prohibition, and many bottles of Jamaica Ginger Extract were quaffed for reasons unrelated to the purported treatments it offered. Unfortunately, much of the Jamaica Ginger Extract was laced with a legal chemical called TOCP which often resulted in paralysis in those who drank it. Floppy legs with no feeling - jake legs - were the result. At its peak, jake leg affected thousands of mostly poor people, becoming an epidemic and filling hospitals in the 1920s. Eventually, the US Government got involved and figured out what was going on. It's a fascinating study, and there's a link to a reprint from Dan Baum's website below.

Barrie collects bottles, and has a number of very cool examples of glass containers in her collection. Including these two examples of Jamaica Ginger Extract. The photos were taken in her study early in the morning, with lamplight.

To read Dan Baum's article, click here (note: it opens a PDF file).

Concrete Jesus, Folk Art....: FebPhotos Day 21

2009-02-23T18:04:00.000-08:00

Yes, I'm running a bit behind on the FebPhoto posts, as you might have noticed. We went down to the Fearrington Folk Art Show last weekend, reprising our trip there last year. Here's a few images from the trip:

We once again bought a dog painting from Tim and Lisa Kluttz,
this one an homage to our yellow lab Enid.

But I did promise a concrete Jesus, didn't I? On the way back home we pulled over at a gas station beside a concrete statuary lot/store/yard/iconmart. Looking up while pumping petrol, my gaze found these concrete pups and animals:

And looking over the entire flock was this concrete Jesus, calming the waters:

John Prine in Roanoke

2009-02-22T06:57:00.000-08:00

Long-time fans of singer/songwriter John Prine, including yours truly, expect a lot from one of his concerts. With a deep catalog that includes nearly 20 albums since his eponymous 1971 debut, there's a lot of great - indeed some would say classic - material he could cover. Last night in Roanoke, Prine mined his canon with energy and passion, covering many favorites dating back to his first album.

Prine opened with "Spanish Pipedream" and "Six O'Clock News" from his first LP, which by any accounts is one of the great debut recordings by any singer/songwriter. By the end of the evening, over a nearly 2 hour set, Prine played a total of six songs from the album. After all, it's some of his finest work, and showcases his ability to create characters, strip raw emotions and situations down to plain language, and open up the listener's empathy with raw evocation that's never sappy or saccharine. For instance, halfway through the set, with a moderately rowdy bunch of fans shouting requests, Prine brought the crowd to a hushed whisper when he launched into the achingly beautiful "Angel From Montgomery," as potent evocation of an aging woman's feelings as any man is capable of writing. He also played "Sam Stone," about the drug addled veteran who comes home from "the conflict overseas" sporting "a hole in Daddy's arm where all the money goes."

As if that wasn't enough from his first album, he delivered another crowd-stilling moment with a version of "Hello In There," again about aging, lonely people, and wrapped up the show with "Paradise," his song about the lost town of Paradise, Kentucky, which was razed by a coal company.

But Prine didn't just bask in past glories - his set list was a balanced mix of earlier fare and songs from the last couple of decades, including his Grammy-winning 2005 album Fair & Square.

Prine sounded in fine form, even if his range isn't as great and his voice a bit huskier after his battle with throat cancer. All told, a great evening of music from an American legend.

John Prine Set List:
Roanoke, VA Feb 21, 2009

With Dave Jacques, electric and upright bass, backing vocals
Jason Wilber, guitars & mandolin, backing vocals

Spanish Pipedream
Six O’Clock News
Souvenirs
Grandpa Was A Carpenter
Storm Windows
Fish and Whistle
Glory of True Love
Long Monday
Far From Me
Angel from Montgomery
Dear Abby
It’s A Big Old Goofy World
Please Don’t Bury Me
Sam Stone
Bear Creek Blues
That’s Alright By Me
Ain’t Hurtin’ Nobody
Hello In There
Lake Marie

ENCORE:
Killing the Blues
In Spite of Ourselves (duet with Carrie Rodriguez)
Paradise (with Carrie Rodriguez, vocals, fiddle)

Credit: Photo of John Prine live in 2008 from the JPShrine fan site.

Off to Chapel Hill: FebPhotos Day 20

2009-02-21T21:40:00.000-08:00

A belated post after a 24 hour road trip to Chapel Hill to see the Fearrington Folk Art show and visit with friends and family (OK, one friend and our nephew, but the familiar alliterative ring of "friends and family"is just too easy, and it's got a relative ring of truth, so there you go). On Friday we met our nephew Alex for dinner at Top of The Hill on the corner of Franklin & Columbia. Here's a photo of that intersection from the restaurant's patio, about 8:30 in the evening:

Asta and Bou: FebPhotos Day 19

2009-02-19T14:31:00.000-08:00

It's been six days since Bou came to stay with us, and Asta's dealing with it pretty well. I took "the girls" (as we've taken to calling them) out in the backyard this afternoon, and they started to run and play together some. Here's a photo of them playing, along with a couple of individual shots:

Scampering across the backyard at full speed.

Asta looks sideways at Bou.

Bou plans her next move. She burst into a run a few seconds after this pose.

Big Wet Snow: FebPhotos Day 18

2009-02-18T15:08:00.000-08:00

Rain turned into sleet this morning about 6:45 or so, and by 7 there was a good coating of slushy sleet on the back deck. It soon developed into a mushy mixture of sleet, rain, and snow, while the temperature hovered right around freezing. By about 8:30 a heavy mess of big, wet snow was coming down with slushy flakes about the size of a nickel. Here's a few photos - the big white streaks are the slushy falling snow. It was all gone by mid-day.

A wee bit of frost: FebPhotos Day 17

2009-02-17T20:31:00.000-08:00

It was cold last night - down around 10 degrees when I gazed out the window this morning. By the time Asta and I made it up the hill around 9 a lot of the frost had melted in the sun, but the shady spots still had some crystals lingering. Here's what we found:

A few frosty crystals lingering on a dead holly leaf.

Frost doing that pine needle thing.

What happens when you put the camera on macro and stick it down to the ground. The ever-popular "horizon gone amok" effect. Duck and cover.

Dusk: FebPhotos Day 16

2009-02-16T17:39:00.000-08:00

Dusk as seen from the front of McConnell Library, with a heavy bank of clouds behind the library, and the waning daylight in front:

View from the library steps looking out on the quad. The bright spot in the bottom left corner was a small snowflake that flew onto the lens just as I took the photo.

Backyard: FebPhotos Day 15

2009-02-15T15:55:00.000-08:00

A few shots of ivy and a closeup of a pine cone from the backyard:

Bou, the "foster dog" : FebPhotos Day 14

2009-02-14T14:59:00.000-08:00

We got a call last week from a close friend in poor health, who asked us to take care of her dog Bou until she recovers. Bou is short for Boudicca, the Iceni queen of the East Anglia who rebelled against the Romans in 60 A.D. Did I mention that our friend is a retired English History professor (and one of the smartest and wittiest people I know)?

So we drove down to Mt Olive, NC, today and picked up Bou, an 11-year old beagle who's full of sweetness and beagle-esque mischief. We might have Bou with us for a while, so it was great to see that her and Asta got along pretty well on their first day as co-habitants. Here's some photos from our trip and Bou's first hour here:

Yes, we went to Mt. Olive, home of the famous Mt. Olive Pickle Company, as you might surmise when you see their town sign. You can see a very stylized image of the town of Mt. Olive, with their famous street intersection of Cucumber and Vine, by checking out their website.

Any ideas that we might be starting our own kennel here in Blacksburg were quickly put to rest when this truck passed us on Hwy 52 north of Winston-Salem. While we had one small bag of Science Diet with us as Bou's provisions, this truck passed us with a bed filled to the brim with bags of dog food. You can see from their license plate that these folks are serious about dogs. Hounds in particular, it appears:

Like a good beagle, as soon as we got here Bou immediately started to sniff the entire perimeter of the backyard. No smell went undocumented. Asta watched as Bou checked out her new foster home yard, occasionally trying to get Bou to play, to no avail.

In an expected twist to the FebPhoto project, I accidentally switched my camera to the video mode and, much to my surprise, ended up taking this 10 second video of Asta and Bou scurrying around each other in the kitchen. You can tell by how deftly I aimed the camera that I had no idea it was in video mode:

Kitchen Window: FebPhotos Day 13

2009-02-13T07:09:00.000-08:00

Our south-facing kitchen window is filled with indirect lighting in the morning, filtering nicely through the double panes, backlighting the bottles, and illuminating the Christmas cactus and African Violet.

Interiors: FebPhotos Day 12

2009-02-12T19:55:00.000-08:00

It's not too hard to figure out where these were taken:

Red Sky at Morning: FebPhotos Day 11

2009-02-11T14:51:00.000-08:00

This red sky greeted me this morning, looking southeast from my backyard about 7:00 AM.

There's the old weather adage of "Red sky at night, sailor's delight; red sky at morning, sailor take warning." A front came through today, with winds gusting up to 37 mph and a forecast of severe thunderstorms tonight. There's a long history of the "red sky at morning" weather lore, and it's been well documented by the Library of Congress:

Shakespeare... said something similar in his play, Venus and Adonis. “Like a red morn that ever yet betokened, Wreck to the seaman, tempest to the field, Sorrow to the shepherds, woe unto the birds, Gusts and foul flaws to herdmen and to herds.”

In the Bible, (Matthew XVI: 2-3,) Jesus said, “When in evening, ye say, it will be fair weather: For the sky is red. And in the morning, it will be foul weather today; for the sky is red and lowering."

In order to understand why “Red sky at night, sailor’s delight. Red sky in morning, sailor’s warning” can predict the weather, we must understand more about weather and the colors in the sky.

Usually, weather moves from west to east, blown by the westerly trade winds. This means storm systems generally move in from the West.

The colors we see in the sky are due to the rays of sunlight being split into colors of the spectrum as they pass through the atmosphere and ricochet off the water vapor and particles in the atmosphere. The amounts of water vapor and dust particles in the atmosphere are good indicators of weather conditions. They also determine which colors we will see in the sky.

During sunrise and sunset the sun is low in the sky, and it transmits light through the thickest part of the atmosphere. A red sky suggests an atmosphere loaded with dust and moisture particles. We see the red, because red wavelengths (the longest in the color spectrum) are breaking through the atmosphere. The shorter wavelengths, such as blue, are scattered and broken up.

Red sky at night, sailors delight.
When we see a red sky at night, this means that the setting sun is sending its light through a high concentration of dust particles. This usually indicates high pressure and stable air coming in from the west. Basically good weather will follow.

Red sky in morning, sailor’s warning.
A red sunrise reflects the dust particles of a system that has just passed from the west. This indicates that a storm system may be moving to the east. If the morning sky is a deep fiery red, it means a high water content in the atmosphere. So, rain is on its way.

Source: Library Congress' "Everyday Mysteries: Fun Science Facts from the LOC"

Found Objects: FebPhotos Day 10

2009-02-10T13:53:00.000-08:00

My FebPhoto goal today was to find colorful things on the ground and take photos of them. No specific seeking, just whatever seemed colorful. The morning walk up to the golf course found these old tees, with some interesting colors and what amounts to tee-rot:

And then, what should I find while walking across campus this afternoon? Amazingly, this iconic bit of American food lore. I couldn't have planned this one - it was just there, beside the parking lot, and behind the Alumni Garden:

Early Morning Cactus: FebPhotos Day 9

2009-02-09T16:52:00.000-08:00

Very early morning photos of our Christmas cactus, in full bloom.

Looking different, eh?

2009-02-08T17:52:00.001-08:00

We interrupt this installment of Bantering Bibliocrat to move to a cleaner template and add a new header photo. We hope you like it! Back to our regularly scheduled FebPhoto series tomorrow....

Asta Frolicks: FebPhotos Day 8

2009-02-08T09:48:00.000-08:00

A warm, partly-cloudy Sunday afternoon - what better fun than chasing partially deflated balls and mangled flippy-floppers in the backyard? Asta was having such a good time that I had to pull out the camera and catch her in action.

Gleefully running with the flippy flopper, with some funky mossy stuff dangling from it.

Playing with the ball is serious work. Note the intensity.

Waiting for the next flung object.

Eastern Bluebird: FebPhotos Day 7

2009-02-07T12:10:00.000-08:00

An Eastern Bluebird out for a midwinter spring outing in Blacksburg:

Compact Conifer Copse: FebPhotos Day 6

2009-02-06T14:47:00.000-08:00

Warmth! Sunlight! The afternoon was warm and wonderful, and students were playing baseball and frisbee on the lawn in front of the library. While walking back to the library from across campus I was, once again, taken by how beautiful this compact copse of conifers is. Tall and stately, these are some of my favorite trees. I think I'm detecting my first hint of spring fever here...

Conifer copse with the library behind it.

Inside the copse is a small island of solace in the middle of campus.

Benches in front of the library, which enjoys a sunny southwestern exposure.

New River Ice: FebPhotos Day 5

2009-02-05T15:53:00.000-08:00

Today was a bright, sunny, and very cold day - the third day in a row that the temperature didn't rise above freezing. I went down to the New River where it flows by the Radford campus and took these three photos while standing in the same place. The temperature was in the high teens.

Looking downriver. Note the trestle as the river curves to the right.

Zooming in on the abandoned train trestle.

Brown grass lingers on
Below the icy bubbles.
Wind chill factor? Yes!

Lunchtime Abstractions: FebPhotos Day 4

2009-02-04T16:28:00.001-08:00

Today was bitterly cold outside and very busy inside the library. So here's some relatively abstract photos of mundane stuff taken at lunch.

Vegetables and spoon.

Table edge.

Map in map case.

Slightly Snowy Morning: FebPhotos Day 3

2009-02-03T06:50:00.000-08:00

We had a pleasant dusting of snow last night, with clearing skies and a crisp, cold morning. A few photos from the yard and neighborhood:

Light snow on the hillside looking towards Brush Mountain. Notice the workers on the sunny, snowy hillside.

Snowy backlit leaf in the front yard.

Rhodo bud in the snow.

In the Library: FebPhotos Day 2

2009-02-02T16:26:00.000-08:00

From the beauty of Buffalo Mountain to the institutional grandeur of... interior shots of McConnell Library! Featuring the M.C. Escher-esque stairwell, an angle I've always thought was pretty cool, so I finally took a photo:

I like long perspective photos that give some sense of depth. This is taken from the end of the first floor, with the compact shelving on the left and where the RU Archives, the Appalachian Collection, and my office will be housed on the right at some time in the future....

Our Special Collections are kept in locked sections of our compact shelving. Here's a section, with RU theses on the right and some of our older (and sometimes actually rare) books on the left:

I just moved offices a few weeks ago in my transition from Reference/Instruction to Archivist, and here's my new "temporary office," complete with shelves full of unprocessed collections. The rocking chair was my grandmother's, which adds a nice touch to an office with two computers, a scanner, a humongous printer, and four monitors.

It's snowing outside right now, so hopefully we'll get some snow photos for tomorrow.

Buffalo Mountain: FebPhotos Day 1

2009-02-01T19:08:00.000-08:00

A beautiful, springlike Sunday afternoon led us to the top of Buffalo Mountain in Floyd County. Temperatures in the mid-50's brought a number of folks out to the Natural Area Preserve, and there were a half-dozen cars in the small parking area. It was a nice sunny beginning for this month's a-photo-or-more a day project.

B gazes at Pilot Mountain in the distance.

Knot on a fallen tree trunk.

A tightly cropped shot of hawks (?) flying below the crest of Buffalo Mountain.

Magi spotted moonlighting

2009-01-31T15:04:00.000-08:00

Several unemployed Magi were spotted preparing to moonlight outside this garage in rural Virginia last week. As the sun set behind them, two had taken their places on the nocturnal shift while the others were still, apparently, asleep. "It's tough living all year on our yuletide cresh earnings," one Magi said. "And since the frankincense and myrrh market bottomed out, we've got to make ends meet somehow."

New Year's stuff

2009-01-22T09:24:00.000-08:00

It's amazing how much can happen in six short weeks, that being the time since my last entry in yon blog. A few highlights, as best I can recall:

We have a new President here in the US of A. The wind of change is pleasantly blustery these days.
Record cold temperatures settled into Southwest Virginia, making for some chilly walks with Asta. Wind chills in the negative numbers. See chart below!
The festive holiday season came and went. Lots of good family and friend time.
A dear friend was rushed to the hospital and appeared to knock on death's door. She's rallied and come back.
I passed another one of those birthday things. Duly noted by friends and family. Thanks folks!
I moved offices at work in preparation for my shift to full-time archivist.
I had some camera gear upgrades, and I'm pretty giddy about it. It feeds into my February Fotoproject. 28 (at least) photo posts, one a day, throughout February.

Windchill chart from the NOAA website

Roadside Palintology and preparatory promulgations

2008-12-06T09:20:00.000-08:00

This American dinosaur was spotted in southern Virginia. I believe it's the first post-Sarah Palin sighting of dinosaurus Americanus. The fossil record is unclear about the stars and stripes motif, but most paleontologists are pretty sure that this was not what influenced Betsy Ross when it came to designing the flag. Most Palintologists are just confused:

Coming back to Virginia the next day, this bit of signage was seen just below the Virginia line in North Carolina. No time like the present to get ready!

Brainfood #3: Mars according to Kim Stanley Robinson

2008-11-23T04:21:00.000-08:00

I've always enjoyed how the best science fiction both reflects on, and speculates about, the possibilities inherent in the human condition, regardless of where people frolic in time and space. The genre excels when it successfully redefines setting and context while playing around with long-established literary themes. (How's that for an introduction that tries to impart a certain scholarly air to a genre oft-associated with pulp fiction?)

A prime example is Isaac Asimov's monumental Foundation Trilogy, which draws deeply on human political history, particularly Edward Gibbon's Decline and Fall of th e Roman Empire. Like the fine novelist that he was, Asimov places his well-defined characters in a quickly-paced narrative that adds a personal element to historical events and political machinations. Foundation, as a political entity, is the product of individuals and their actions, and we're privy to their conversations and thoughts as they shape the fate of the galaxy. It's not so much a retelling of Gibbon as it is an interstellar Greek drama based on the story of Roman imperial decline, a tale where individual actions have consequences of epic import. But because it's sci-fi, these tales aren't bound by terran limitations: they bounce from planet to planet, providing Greek tragedy with a healthy side dose of intergalactic space flight. Greek with geek, if you will.

My interest in sci-fi comes with a planetary sized caveat: the genre, sadly, is rife with some truly mediocre writing. Sometimes it seems like sci-fi editors will forgive stilted narrative and lame character development as long as the gizmos giz and the zappers zap. Caveats aside, there is plenty of brilliance in the genre, and one master that I've recently caught up with is Kim Stanley Robinson.

Robinson's Mars trilogy has been on my reading list for some time, but I finally got around to it this month. He presents an environmental challenge: given a blank planetary slate, filled with the proverbial "building blocks" to support life, how would humans create a habitable environment on a planet from scratch? Over the course of three novels, Red Mars (1992), Green Mars (1993) and Blue Mars (1996). Robinson traces the colonization and terraforming of Mars, where several generations of colonist render a stark, freezing planet into a place fit for human habitation.

Yet as anyone who has paid attention to the environmental movement in our current time and place (Earth, circa 2008), environmental science is constantly battling with corporate interests and an array of related political wiles, ruses, and shenanigans. As it is now, so it is in Red Mars. Without spoiling the plot, a struggle develops among the settlers between keeping Mars in its pre-human contact condition (a group known as the "Reds,") and turning it into another Earth-like planet, with surface water, vegetation, and a breathable atmosphere (these folks are known as the "Greens"). As colonization develops, transnational corporate interests ("transnats"), with an unwavering eye toward profits, bring in settlers from war-torn and overpopulated Earth to work the Martian mines. A corporate police state develops, with eerie parallels to Appalachian coal towns and other dark sides of labor history.

While Robinson's initial acclaim came from the Mars novels, he's gained recent attention with his Science in the Capital trilogy, a set of novels examining the effects of Global Warming, consisting of Forty Signs of Rain (2004), Fifty Degrees Below (2005), and Sixty Days and Counting (2007). And it's not just sci-fi fans who have notice Robinson's work; indeed, his environmental literature earned him a 2008 "Hero of the Environment" designation by that bastion of mainstream news reporting, Time Magazine. Last month, AMC announced plans to make a TV series based on Red Mars. His work is quite popular, and the Web's abuzz with information about him. One interesting source is the KSR Encyclopedia wiki.

Inside the Gusev Crater on Mars, from the Mars Exploration Rover Spirit

Isaac Asimov hawking Radio Shack TRS-80 computers in 1982.

Credits: Photo of Kim Stanley Robinson by Beth Gwinn, from the KSR Encyclopedia. The tracks were made by Mars Exploration Rover Opportunity when it scampered in and out of the Victoria Crater. The Mars images are from NASA's Mars Exploration Program website. The Asimov ad is blatantly ripped from the Web, but it was so cool I just had to do it. To help offset any guilt I have about stealing a Radio Shack ad, I promise to go to Radio Shack as soon as possible to pick up one of these cool TRS-80s. I've always wanted a color computer!

First snow!

2008-11-18T07:39:00.000-08:00

Much to my surprise, the forecast of flurries actually left some snow on the ground -- a bit less than an inch fell this morning, imparting a magical air to our walk. Asta, of unknown-but-possibly-Arctic-dog-lineage, had a blast scurrying around in the white stuff. And the forecast is for lows in the teens tonight. Here's some assorted shots of this lovely transition into winter: