A Moment of Time, Never to be Repeated

Posted on by

Location Taken: Spruce Woods, Manitoba, Canada
Time Taken: June 2010

Sometimes all it takes for a gorgeous photo is a magnificent sunset and a gentle lake to reflect it.

In this case, it’s an oxbow lake right by the main campground at Spruce Woods Provincial Park in Manitoba, a lovely little park in the southwest corner of Manitoba.

This was not the place we’d been planning to spend the night when we were planning . It’s not because we’d run behind schedule, just the opposite in fact. We’d made rather good time that day, and had passed our planned campground by early afternoon.

This lovely little campground just 30 kilometers south of the Trans-Canada Highway looked like an excellent place to spend the night. Provincial parks (or State parks, in the US) are excellent campgrounds. They’re always pretty, and small enough that you can easily see what made them make this area a park. And they’re usually well-maintained and quite cheap to stay at.

This park has a place called Spirit Sands as its main attraction, a small bit of desert dunes in the middle of the Canadian prairie, but we didn’t bother visiting. Instead, after setting up our tents while we still had light, we walked over to the lake and swimming area. It’s an oxbow lake, which means that it’s a cut off meander of a river, in this case the Assiniboine river. It’s in a U-shape, with the campground in the center of the U. There’s also an upper campground, which even has yurts for those who don’t want to mess with tents.

It was a pretty swimming area, with floats to mark the areas set aside for it. There was a small boat dock for canoes, and a lovely bridge over the lake to connect the two camping areas.

Well, at least there used to be a bridge. I’m not sure if it’s still there.

There was a major flood there the year after we visited. If you look at the Google Maps satellite view of the area, it actually shows the extent of the flooding. Including a break in the flowing water where the bridge was, looking exactly like you’d expect if the bridge was underwater.

The place where we camped is in that stand of trees where you can easily see the brown flood water peaking out between them. And to the north is the raging river, flowing strong enough to take out parts of the road by it.

I may visit the place again, or I may not. If I do, it will look different from what’s in this photo.

Which only makes the photo more precious. It captures a moment in time that can no longer be recaptured, even if I stood in the exact same place at another sunset.

  

The Sunset of my Memory

Posted on by

Location Taken: Valparaiso, Indiana
Time Taken: October 2007

I blanked out today and only just now remembered I have yet to post. Ah well, it’s 8 pm, my goal is to have one come out at some point every single day, so I’ve still got four hours before I’m late, right?

Right?

Anyway, here’s a sunset picture. Marvelous color in the sky that day.

…I hate how my memory and sense of time start slipping away as my social phobia gets more and more stressed. I mean, I’m only working two days a week, and only for two months, and I’m already losing days. Well, not losing them, they’re still there, just rather fuzzy in the memory, especially when I’m trying to remember how long it’s been since I, say, ate something.

…Ummm… right, I had banana bread only four hours ago, followed by some snap peas and beef cubes when my stomach started complaining about such a carb-heavy meal… I’m still good…

  

Just hanging out in the old brush pile

Posted on by

Location Taken: Arcadia, Michigan
Time Taken: December 2006

My grandparents have a large forest on their land. It’s mostly jack pines, a remnant from an old pine plantation that used to be in the area. Most of it’s gone wild again, but there are still a few sections where all the trees grow on a grid pattern.

Jack pines are used for low-quality lumber needs, like utility poles and firewood, and grow tall and straight. This does mean that the lower branches get cut off from sunlight as the forest grows taller, though. The tree cuts off resources to these non-productive parts, and they eventually fall to the ground as deadwood.

Which means that there’s usually at least some limbs down each time we walk on the trails in the woods. So, in order to keep the trails clear, we take the branches and toss them in piles. They grow quite large over the years, and rabbits nest in them quite happily.

This one’s a bit less neat of a pile than most of them. Partly because it’s at the edge of the pine woods, by a stand of deciduous trees, so there’s more of a mix of components, and they don’t stack as well. And of course, it’s at the edge of the woods, where the winds can get in and blow leaves and light branches around.

And then there’s my Grandmother’s influence. She likes leaving odd things around the woods. Like this old terracotta stove thing that no longer cooked right. It’s got a specific name, but I can’t recall it at all. It lived on some stone stairs for a while, and was occasionally used for outdoor cooking. Since my grandparents aren’t the type to just toss something when it breaks, Grandma flipped it over, decided the opening looked like a mouth, painted some eyes and ears on it, and stuck it in the woods.

Which, when you really think about it, is only right and proper.

  

A Pair of Mallards, Ignoring Each Other – which is probably for the best

Posted on by

Location Taken: National Zoo, Washington DC
Time Taken: March 2010

Beautiful, aren’t they?

I know, I know, if you’re from this part of the world, you say “so what, it’s just a couple of ducks, we see them a lot.” Actually, you probably say that even in other parts of the world, it’s a rather common bird globally. But really, look at them!

The male duck especially. Mallards have the same sort of sexual dimorphism you see in a lot of birds, where the male of the species is really flashy, while the female has muted brown feathers well suited for hiding. It’s logical, I guess, since the males of the species have to compete to attract the ladies, while the females have the long nesting period where they need to keep their precious eggs hidden.

Admittedly, given how common rape is among duck species, I’m not so sure the coloration is needed any more, or even if the eggs are all that precious, but well, animal sexuality is a very weird subject.

Still, the green iridescence on the male duck’s head is marvelous, as is the blue iridescence under the wings both genders have (you can see it on the female in the photo).

Of course, even though I took this photo at a zoo, these weren’t exhibits, just a couple of local ducks hanging out in a pond. They’d fit right in with the birds in the bird house, though. They’re just as pretty as any of them. But well, since the locals are used to seeing them, they’d get miffed when they see just some ducks during their trip to see weird and exotic animals. I mean, this is one of the few zoos with Giant Pandas, after all!

I wonder if there are Mallards in zoos in parts of the world that don’t have them.

  

Spin a Song of Sugar and Ice as we Dance in the Fairy Fog

Posted on by

Location Taken: Valparaiso, Indiana
Time Taken: February 2007

Have you ever encountered a freezing fog?

It requires very specific climatological conditions. It has to be an area prone to fog, in the first place. And it has to be exactly the right temperature range for the fog particles to stay liquid despite being below 32 degrees, which also requires particularly clean water particles. There also can’t be too much water in the air, which would cause freezing rain or hail to form instead.

But, with water in this superchilled state, all it takes is for the fog particle to land on a branch or a leaf or something and it instantly freezes. Here’s a good video explaining this little quirk of physics.

I’ve only encountered freezing fogs twice, both times while at college in Indiana. Neither day was particularly cold, though both were below freezing. The first time, I went to my early morning class before the fog arrived, and when I got out of the building, it was like being transported into a fairytale where all the trees were spun of sugar. It did not last long, the sun burned out the fog and melted the ice within an hour, but it was outright magical while it lasted.

I suppose that’s why I keep thinking of it as Fairy Fog rather than freezing fog. Much more poetic.

The second time, the fog had settled in already by the time I had to leave for class, so I grabbed my camera. It was a heavier fog than the first, but it still had a lot of the same magic to it. Even with the ice crystals being much larger and much more obvious.

At least, unlike ice storms and freezing rains, the fairy fog tends not to damage anything. The fog’s too thin to add too much weight to any one branch, and easily melted by car tires passing over it. Which means rather than worrying about trees falling on your head as you walk under them, you can truly sit back and enjoy the beauty.

I wish these fogs were more common, or at least happened in the area I live in now.