Sunshine? Bleh. Beaches? Meh. Heat? Ew.

Photo #488: Beach TimeLocation Taken: Deception Pass State Park, Washington
Time Taken: June 2010

I just don’t get why summer is so popular.

I mean, it’s hot, it’s sunny, and the world is alive with life.

In other words, heat stroke, sun burn, and mosquitoes.

Sure, if you’re big into swimming, it can be nice. Well, at least the later parts of it. In June and early July, well, the ocean still has a bit of the chill of winter. And really, you can go swimming any time of the year. You just either need to head towards the equator for warmer waters, go swimming in lakes and indoor pools, or purchase a wet suit that makes any water comfortable.

Maybe it’s because of the long summer vacation my culture gives its school-children. Summer is a time when you’re not faced with long hours of learning, waking up far too early to get to class and staying up far too late finishing homework. Instead, you’re given time to actually play, for once. So perhaps we learn to look forward to the summer early and try to convince ourselves it’s still wonderful once we enter the workforce and lose the guaranteed yearly time of freedom.

Or perhaps it’s the long hours of sunshine, giving us lots of happy vitamin D and all the other hormones that makes most people like being out in the sun. Me, that gets overwhelmed by the allergic reaction, but hey, such is life. Still, summer involves days getting shorter. The solstice, the day with the longest hours of sunshine, is at the end of June, and marks the beginning of summer. The days keep getting hotter because of the time delay involved in heating an atmosphere, but you rarely think of June as the heart of summer enjoyment.

Ah well, I guess I shall just shrug my shoulders in bemusement and go back to hiding from the heat and sunlight. I shall count my love of autumn and winter as another of my backwards tendencies, no more, no less.

Still, if summer is your favorite season, please, please, tell me why?

  

The Weeping Fairies of the Many-Faced Forest

Photo #487: Crying FairiesTime Created: January 2007

When I was first getting into digital photography, I tried all sorts of things to combine it with the drawings I already did. This is rather difficult, since well, you’re combining a highly-detailed photograph with a much simpler drawing. Unless you either take the time to add so much detail to the drawing that they mesh, or have so much skill that you can fit the two disparate styles together, there’s going to be a disconnect.

I, alas, have neither the patience for quite that level of detail nor the skill required. But still, I tried.

In order to reduce the detail in the photograph, I first converted it to grayscale, and then, shall we say, removed all the gray. This left a black and white photo of one of the many odd garden statues my Grandmother has scattered throughout her property. Said statue also added its own simplified aspects, with the smoother lines and open areas of the stone face providing an intermediary step to help the composition fit together.

I then added in a quick drawing I did in pen, scanned into the computer. I twitch at my poor sense of body proportion and how large the lines look in the image today, but well, we all wince at our older work. I manipulated the drawing so it was just the black lines, and transferred it over to the photo. Then I filled in the drawing with white so they weren’t see-through. As a final tweak, I made the wings of these fairies semi-transparent to let some of the background image show through, trying to incorporate the two even further.

For a quick piece, more proof of concept than anything else, I did quite well. And my warped sense of humor still likes pairing a laughing statue with fairies crying over a cracked egg. Not that it’s easy to tell that’s an egg. I really needed how to learn how to measure objects and use reference at this point…

  

How to Escape a Fire and Other Such Things

Photo #486: Fire EscapeLocation Taken: Cincinnati, Ohio
Time Taken: June 2007

I’ve never used a fire escape.  I’ve never been on one.  I’m not even sure I’ve lived in a building that had one.  Which, since I lived on the 17th floor of an apartment, makes me a little concerned in retrospect.  They probably had some form of fire escape, but I certainly didn’t know where it was, and knowing where to go in a fire is rather important.

Actually, disaster preparation is rather important in general.  Just finding out which disasters might strike your area and doing some basic things to keep life going smoothly when it happens can make a big difference.

…Not that I’ve done full disaster preparation myself.  It does require thinking ahead and spending money on things you may never need, which is really easy to procrastinate on.

But still, at least I think about it!  That counts for something, right?  Right?!

Where I’m living, in Central Maryland, doesn’t have too many disasters.  We do have the standard risk of fire (I’m grabbing my purse and my external hard drive with my files on it and leaving as fast as I can, out the second story window if necessary), which is best prepared for with keeping flammable items away from sparks.  Alas, I don’t have anywhere near the money to tear out all the wiring in the (wooden) walls and check it for short circuit potential.  At least there’s a lot of electrical codes that require coatings on the wires and junction boxes and all that, so I have to rely on that.  And I don’t do any of the things that commonly cause fires, like burn candles, smoke cigarettes, or leave my cooking unattended.

We get occasional hurricanes passing through, but we’re far enough inland that they weaken by the time they reach us.  All we get is large amounts of rain and a bunch of wind.  It causes flash flooding and knocks down some trees, but not much more.  Hurricanes cause the most problem for coastal regions, where the storm surge can overwhelm houses very easily, but if you don’t live there, and aren’t unlucky enough to have a tree fall on your head, you’re usually fine.

We don’t have a risk of flood here.  We’re on a hill that forms a river valley, so we’re both far above the water table and have an easy place for the water to go.  Floods are best avoided by not building in flood plains, watching out for flash flooding, and, in general, not being where water wants to flow.

And we’re not at the edge of the hill, which is also made of strong rock, so there’s no risk of landslide.  Having large piles of rock fall on you (or out of under you) can really ruin your day, and they can move surprisingly quickly.  Try not to live in a place where there’s cracks in the ground or debris from previous landslides, and call a geologist if you’re wondering about a slope, so it can get stabilized if necessary.

We can experience earthquakes, but they’re all from minor mid-continent faults, and the chance of one happening that’s large enough to do major damage is very low.  Earthquakes tend to be a real problem only along the major faults, like the San Andreas in California.  They require proper building codes to be followed to keep building from shaking to pieces, and items should not be just placed on unsecured high shelves, where they (and the shelves) can fall on you.

Tsunamis are another coastal problem, like hurricanes.  There’s not much that can stop them in their path aside from giant sea walls taller than the tsunami itself.  But if you’re in a tsunami-risk area and you feel a major earthquake coming from offshore, get to higher ground.

Blizzards are also really regional.  But they’re fairly easy to manage, just by having a stock of food and not leaving the house.  It’s only if you’re unlucky that anything worse happens.  And well, we don’t get many blizzards through here, alas.  I’ve always liked waking up to a couple of feet of new snow on the ground, even if it does shut down the region until the roads can be cleared.

Tornadoes, we can get an occasional tornado.  We had one pass right near my house one year, luckily rather weak and not really touching the ground at that point.  They only occur in certain areas where the weather conditions line up, which mainly means the Great Plains of the USA (about 70% of all tornadoes worldwide occur in this one country), so know your tornado risk.  If you’re in an area that gets them, keep an ear out (or a cell phone alert system activated) for Tornado Warnings, see if the storm really is heading right for you, and if it is, go to (ideally) a storm cellar, an interior bathroom where the plumbing keeps the walls more stable, a ditch on the side of the road, or any similar place.  And then hope you’re not in the admittedly rather small path of the twister.  It’s really a matter of luck for that.

Manmade disasters, like car crashes and terrorism, well, there’s not much you can do to avoid them other than not go to places they’re likely to happen.  Stuff like air crashes and terrorism are actually exceedingly rare, so they shouldn’t be something you let affect your life that much.  They just get a lot of media attention, since they’re both rare and flashy, so you hear about a much higher percentage of the ones that occur, making your brain believe they’re something to worry about.

The one I really should work on a preparation kit for is for a major power outage.  The power system where I live goes out one or two times a month during thunderstorm season, but it usually comes back on very quickly.  Every so often, though, a big storm comes through and we lose power for hours, even days.  It’s never been more than a few days, though, so we’ve managed by eating cold foods (or lighting our gas stove manually), not opening the fridge at all to keep the cool air in, and reading a lot of books.  But it would help to have a few days drinking water in case the water systems fail, flashlights to get around with, an emergency radio, several days worth of canned food, and so on.  Here, the power outages tend to be fairly easily fixed, just sending a truck over to clear away the tree that fell on the lines and hooking everything back up.  But if you’re in a hurricane or earthquake prone zone, or in a rural area prone to blizzards, it can take a long time for power to return after such an event, so having an emergency kit on hand might just make all the difference.

And, of course, if you do live in a place with a fire escape, keep the escape route clear.  There’s nothing worse than trying to flee a fire and finding someone’s old couch blocking your only way out.

…You know, this all boils down to “Know what problems could affect you”, “Keep a multi-day emergency kit” and “Don’t live in flood-prone areas!”  So um, do that!

  

The High Life of The High Passes

Photo #485: Mountain PassLocation Taken: Near the East Entrance of Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming
Time Taken: October 2012

I’ve been across several high mountain passes, and every one seems special somehow.

Sometimes it’s because it’s a natural valley, usually with steep sides and large debris fields, like this one. That’s when the pass is noticeably deeper than the mountain range it goes through, a coincidence of valleys and canyons creating a low spot. Other times the pass goes over the top of the range, and a large area of thin-growing grass and odd tumbles of rocks surrounds the peak. If you’re high enough, snow lasts into the summer months, and the area is filled with alpine meadows.

Mainly, though, it’s the water that’s different.

Mountain passes are dividing lines between watersheds. Half the water goes one way, half the other. All the streams are tiny, and there’s a multitude of them, each coming from a shady divot in the ground where the snow can accumulate better.

And as you descend the mountain, the small streams join up, getting wider and deeper and stronger, and you watch a river grow. Mind you, that’s because we have a very strong tendency to put passes in valleys, since they’re low spots, and valleys are created by rivers and streams. The largest valleys tend to have (or had in the past, or perhaps have only when the spring thaw hits) the largest rivers.

It’s watching a stream grow from melting snow to a full raging river that makes descending such passes so special sometimes. Other times it’s just touching a high point, where the earth meets the sky, where the rules are a bit different, that far above the sea. And of course, you can’t discount the psychological factor of knowing this place has a special name, a special role to play, that indicates a history of humans choosing that spot to travel through. That’s what the name means, after all. A Mountain Pass is where you pass through the mountains, no more, no less.

  

And Now, I Request You Focus Your Attention Upon This Tree.

Photo #484: Lone TreeLocation Taken: Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming
Time Taken: October 2012

I have been informed by people who shall go nameless (*cough*Dad*cough*) that yesterday’s post was not dignified.

I shall have to remedy that, and make today’s post as dignified as possible.

*sips tea with my pinky finger out*

This, ladies and gentlemen, is a rock.

Not just any rock, but one with a tree on it.

Said tree is, in fact, growing out of said rock.

*sips tea again, puts on monocle*

Imagine, for a moment, what this tree must go through. It lives, on a rock, in the middle of a river, in the middle of a volcanic caldera. And yet, it is neither watered by the river nor warmed by the volcano. Both are too far below it for it to feel the effects of either.

Instead, this tree must survive on the scraps of firmament blown onto the rock by the wind, held in place by the spare scraps of grass that share this tiny island. It is watered by whatever the sky deigns to gift it, and is covered by snow for the long, hard winters in Yellowstone National Park.

But all is not dismal doings for this small specimen of treehood. It sits far above the ground, with no easy access routes for elk to come and partake of its needles, nor can the male elks scratch their antlers against its bark. That is the downfall of many of this tree’s cousins. And the rock, while it keeps the tree far above the river, does hold onto any scrap of water that falls on the basin the tree grows in, a much larger bounty collected from each rainfall. And, of course, the wide river itself prevents any other tree to grow close enough to block the sun’s rays from reaching this fine tree.

It is also set apart, unique and fascinating for its isolation. If it chanced to fall on the riverbank, it would merely be one tree amongst many, and not worth speaking of. In its loneliness, it has found fame.

*sips tea*

*chokes*

*cough* *cough* *cough*

Ok, enough of that. It’s tough wearing a monocle over my glasses anyway.