Stories, Excerpts, Backroads
Clear skies tonight and I might give Comet Lemmon another shot. It has moved away from the tail of The Big Dipper and closer to the sun. I searched this morning but couldn’t see it. The evening may be provide a better opportunity.
It’s getting chilly, the long underwear and long sleeve undershirts are on for the season.
Here are a few photos from the last few days.
Another beautiful morning. Deep blue skies. The moon is closing in on the sun as it wanes to a thin crescent.
It is time to get the carrots out of the ground and plant next year’s garlic. The garden is getting too big for Lisa and I. Not so much the looking after it but the food it produces. I may have to reevaluate it next year.
Orion is beaming in the mornings. Wintermaker, as a good blogging friend calls it. A much more apt name. It is tough to not be drawn into all it’s mystery, legend and science that accompanies it rising and setting in it’s own season.
It’s finally starting to have a chill in the air. I found a home for most of my giant red cabbage. Sophie from Sophie’s Choice Pickles took it to make fermented sauerkraut. Her pickles are incredible and she sells out every year.
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The good neighbour Larry has been enjoying the carrots. I left a bag of them on his doorstep the other day. I didn’t stay to talk as I was in a hurry and figured he’d find them as soon as he came out the door. They are Chantenay carrots. If you know your carrot varieties you know Chantenay have short thick tapered bodies.
Later that day a friend stopped by who is quite religious. I behave myself in his company. As we talked outside, Larry came out and found the carrots. He grabbed them by the stems and walked to the edge of his property, celebrating the gift raised high, yelled across the road, ‘Thanks for the buttplugs!’
I looked to my pious friend and sheepishly said, ‘They are carrots.’
But I couldn’t resist an answer to my good neighbour as he expects it from me, and yelled back across the road, ‘They are various sizes so you can work your way up!’
He didn’t miss a beat and yelled back, ‘I’m no amateur!’
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If it clears a little, Willow and I may head out tomorrow morning to look for Comet Lemmon in the coming dawn. Hard to know if it will clear however as some are calling for snow.
A magnificent sight this morning with the waning crescent moon beside Venus and Regulus.
A few things to consider:
The moon is about 385,000 kms away from earth. It takes 29.5 days to orbit earth. Amazingly the same time it takes to complete a rotation or day.
Venus is close to the same size as Earth. It is the second plant from the sun. Earth is the third.
Both the moon and Venus have been observed through history and have important cultural significance to humanity.
Regulus is part of the constellation Leo. It is 79 light years away from us. It is actually four stars in a star system. The largest of the four is four times larger than our sun. It is a dominant star in the night sky.
I could go on with more facts. The point is, we know all of this from observation. I consider this fantastic. Think of the speed, time, math, angles and experimentation needed to prove what we now take as fact. It has been figured out by people like us (smarter than me I concede). Of course, it has taken generations. Something is learned and it gets added to, and so on. It is amazing to me.
It also shows what humanity is capable of when we collectively work together. Of course it takes time.
Most of the time on this blog I speak of the spiritual importance of nature. There is something I do in my head; I use the word nature and science interchangeably. I mentioned this to a teacher in high school long ago and was told how wrong I was. I took his word, but didn’t change my mind. I know I don’t understand either. Somehow that gives me peace. The same way watching wild orchids appear shortly after the snow melts or watching The Milky Way reappear, rising sideways in the east, curving above the Rocky Mountain Trench. I get the same feeling considering distance and time working out the trip in light speed to Betelgeuse or The Andromeda Galaxy.
I will leave this earth without contributing to the great pool of knowledge needed for the next great discovery. But shouldn’t the wonderful discoveries we already have be honoured. Shouldn’t that be enough to inspire us to do our best and treat our fellow humans with kindness and respect. It is not a jump from marvelling the brilliance of Regulus to loving your family or even pointing out the moon or sharing a mountaintop to someone interested.
It’s in our nature.
Willow and I headed out early to catch the waning crescent beside bright Venus and Jupiter.
It was my plan to capture them above Chisel Peak but I couldn’t get the angle right with light quickly approaching. The right angle would have required us to walk another mile or so. That would have put the sun near up and me late for work. That’s the way it is sometimes.
Each day has had a little rain. Plenty of blue sky between. Cool at nights. Almost a perfect summer compared to what we have had the past few years.
The berries are raging on into August. Lisa and I could get used to this time off wondering the mountains with the grandkids. Picking our fill to take home. They are proud and, of course, turned it into a competition with Scarlett and me picking against Copper and Grandma. Luckily it is evenly matched.
It is good to be up there sharing the sky and tree tops, watching for wild flowers and hummingbirds, pointing out the big berries, showing them how to plink, plink at tins, wishing time could stand still or at least slow down.
The river is full reaching almost to the top of the banks. Flowing quickly to the north. Catching the red willows, straight as arrows, flicking them forward until the spring back in a gracious whip. Green mud that mixes perfectly with the sky. Colours you only see at this time of year. A calendar without dates only sounds, bird calls, trickles and thunder. Smells like heat and moisture, the service berry ripening, some call Saskatoons, sweet, and the river running with high country snow and last nights rain.
The osprey doesn’t recognize me. It leaves its nest and circles above. Sizing, evaluating threat. I try to let it know we are old friends, but feel its distrust.
So often they would follow above as I walked the paths of bush to the lake. Back then it watched as my mind was on fish, railroad tracks, the spring in poplars, the wind putting a ripple on the water, just enough to obscure the weeds and fish swishing shadows, languid almost undetectable during calm, as I wondered how they saw their prey during a storm with a chop on the lake. Other than that I was oblivious most of the time, happy to roam the shore. A whistle would make me turn skyward or to a snag then back above to the railway and someone approaching. My signal to move along, to avoid the day being interrupted by the crudeness of conversation or worse, a scolding or beating. Once further down the shore or back under the canopy of bush the osprey would have followed. But I didn’t keep track back then.
The mosquitoes had me. Lifting me among the clouds. They buzz in my ears and around my nose, I shut my eyes and try not to swat, in case I am to fall from such a height. Above the river I can’t see the fish through the summer murk. The osprey still holds me in its eye, assessing, wary. Its wingspan and hooked beak, turbulent, knowing honour can put it at risk. I hope it can see through the chop on the surface, through time and hurt, even if I can’t.
Like the old saying, been up to my ass in alligators. Was able to step away from the grind a few evenings ago to lay on my belly on the forest floor and study the first orchids of the season.
They were abundant, small fairies hovering above the moss and crumbled deadfalls.
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Lisa and I took our grandkids for a walk in the bush today. We unfortunately came across the carcass of a black bear, shot and skinned. The kids didn’t see it and we changed our route.
They are in season right now. I am amazed there are any bears left considering the pressure from hunting and poaching. Parts of the bear are valued in traditional Chinese medicine. The gall bladder, liver, testicles, fur, paws and head are highly valued.
I have found dead bears cut open with head and paws missing.
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It is warming up. The grass is already burning. The garden is coming along with the weeds. The garlic has scapes and they are damn spicy!
A dazzling display of aurora a few nights ago. Willow and I headed north and stopped on the mile hill overlooking Radium Hot Springs. Knowing they can stop as quick as they start we kept going towards darker skies.
These Northern Lights were caused by activity on the surface of the sun. This coronal mass ejection struck Earth’s magnetic field and lit up the sky. It should have been a dark night, but Willow and I were able to walk around like it was a full moon.
By 3:30 the aurora borealis pulled way back and I could tell dawn was on the horizon. I forget how early morning breaks when the days are long. The longest days don’t even permit a fully dark night.
It was good to get out.
A crystal clear morning. Venus came up in the morning dawn. The sun caught the top of the peaks in the west before it rose over the mountains. The thin moon rose just before the sun. It was an old waning 6%. Due to its thinness and the morning light it was hard to see. I needed the binoculars to spot it at first. A Robin came and sat close to me and a heard of young Bighorn Sheep ran, about 50 yards in front of me. The way they were going I expected to see something like a coyote or cougar on their heels, but nothing. Something riled them however. The river is still clear and runs slow beside the tracks. Not long now the wetlands will be full. Next moon probably. Very fine morning.
Palliser Pass 