Categories
Just Shelley Photography

A quiet moment of rain

Hurricane Dennis turned to Tropical Storm Dennis and finally to Tropical Depression Dennis where it made its way, directly, to some of the most drought plagued areas in the country. The Missouri bootheel has received about 4 inches of rain, and we in St. Louis have received close to 2 inches. Not a heavy rain, either. A gentle misting rain–warm, but not too warm, and with just a gentle breeze. It was and still is, a thing of exquisite beauty.

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And now you know my deepest, darkest, secret: I love the mist. I love fog, and misty rain, and dew-kissed mornings. Oh, I can appreciate the sunshine, and thrill to a storm. But I love the mist.

I pulled jeans over my poor bug bitten legs and set off for the Botanical Gardens, taking along my camera in hopes the rain would remain light. When I arrived at the park, there were a few other souls walking about. They carried umbrellas, but I just had on my soft, gray t-shirt–a soft, bittersweet gray, like the day–and black jeans, camera in its waterproof carrying case.

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The water lilies are back. Gray mist and water lilies: can it get any better? Today was a day meant for poetry, and I found a lovely one titled The Water Nymph, by a man named Jerry Sarvas, who says of himself:

Jerry Sarvas, 49 lives on the fringe of society. A conscientious objector drafted during the Vietnam War, he enjoys being anonymous as much as possible and isn’t interested in being a part of any more armies …. be they military or spiritual.

I hesitated about repeating Sarvas’ poetry, because by doing so, I betray his desire for anonymity. But I know of no poet who doesn’t appreciate that another likes their work. Even Emily Dickinson–quiet, shy, and betrayed Emily Dickinson, sewed her poems into books rather than hold each over a flame once written.

The Water Nymph

Silhouette of pagan beauty
Drenched in moonlight’s soothing rays
Reflects upon the peaceful water
While pungent clouds of Shivranjani
Drift seductively around the pool.
Scented gardenias float on the surface
Captured in her dancing hair.
Moon rays shower her with beauty
Darkness drapes her through the night
Gentle splishing playful splashing
Starlight glistens from her body
Illuminating moon soaked breasts
Drenched in music, bathed in rapture
Blissfully floating undisturbed
A vision of contentment
Her gentle sway – her divine play.

Another poem that comes to mind is Sabrina Fair by Milton, but one poem is enough for today. Still, Sabrina Fair is a lovely poem. Print it out, and hold it for your own misty day.

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The weather and the joys of the garden were a wonderful distraction from the blisters on my legs, though now that I’m in a chair, they are making themselves known. Each bite goes through the same cycle: pencil eraser sized dark red spot, blister, and then an ugly red spreading out. With one, the redness has spread half across my shin. It doesn’t help to know that these will heal, all on their own. I do know that this is the last time into the Missouri woods this summer, even woods as domesticated as those of the Shaw Nature center. Either I’ll walk groomed gardens, or I’ll walk on rocky paths — no trees, no bushes. There is obviously something inimical to me in the Missouri Green.

No, not until Fall signals the all-clear sign.

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I had an amazing dream last night. The coloring was golden throughout–lighter than sepia, warmer than grays. All in gold, except for splashes of purple; bright splashes of purple here and there: glowing from a street light or reflected from a shiny lawn ornament.

In the dream, Michael Jackson was taking care of my Dad. Yes, that Michael Jackson: terror of tiny tots the world over. We’re in my Dad’s apartment, and Dad is sitting in a chair, with a white sheet wrapped around him like a toga. As I came in, he looked up and smiled at me, but didn’t say anything–just smiled. Michael enters the room, hair in his eyes and his movements are nervous. His hands are in his pockets, and he’s wearing a white dinner jacket and dark pants. He says something about my Dad, but I’m not happy with him, because my Dad does not look that well cared for. So here I am in the dream, lecturing the writer of Thriller on how to care for my father, all the while he’s responding in that soft, whiny voice of his.

But then the dream shifted, and I’m riding along on a motorcycle, through an odd, surreal town made of cement blocks, on a barren plain with thick stormy clouds overhead. The only color, other than the gold that persisted throughout the dream, was that bright, vivid purple, flashing from the stoplights.

 

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Someone was riding with me, but I don’t know who. The same person was with me all throughout the dream…but I don’t know who it was. They were nothing more than a pants clad leg with boot out of the corner of my eye, arms wrapped around my waist as we rode, hand on my shoulder as we looked at my father.

We ride through a city of faceless people who are wandering about the neon lit streets, bamboo forming a ceiling over the road. We drove straight until we come to a large structure — a parking garage, with walls open to the air. We entered the building and traveled around and up, and through the open walls we could see out over the plains as the storm worsened. I received an impression that the person with me wanted to turn back, but I wanted to continue.

Suddenly, with a flash of purple lightning, a tornado began to form in front of us. It was glorious, and I stopped the motorcycle and we–the leg and I–looked up into the dark column, at the movement of the air as it tore across the plains and toward the cement city we were in.

But then I woke up.

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I laid there on the bed trying to relive the dream in my mind to preserve it as it passed from my fanciful self, my artistic self who has no speech into this, the aware and verbal me. But as happens, there are no anchors in a verbal world for such flights, and it began to fade and all I can remember is what I’ve told you.

What I want to know is: why purple?

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Categories
Stuff

Quick Links. Was it good for you?

I’m suffering a fairly major allergic reaction to either bug bites or plant allergens (can’t tell which, as they look like bites, except they’re far too numerous). As a consequence of same, I may not be posting anything of any length for a few days. I have a couple of things in work, but I’m foggy and tired and not with it, and my head is going to explode momentarily.

Normally I wouldn’t write this, but I’m following a new policy of never writing anything that could be considered ‘news’. The personal details of my life, my health, my altercations with the flora and fauna of Missouri, the quest for rain, and even my sex life definitely qualify as ‘not news’.

Well, if I had sex with a President, it would be news. But I don’t see this happening in the near future. In fact, I just realized something: there isn’t a single politician who I consider to be ‘hot’. Not a one. I wonder what happened to the sexy politicians? I wonder what happened to me?

In the meantime, some links to readings that will be working their way into upcoming posts and/or I just wanted to link because it felt so good:

Dori Smith: Invisible? Confused with others?. Dori, what you need to do is use really big font for the tech stuff.

 

A call for Dude Bloggers. Yes, even the girly dudes.

 

Dare Obasanjo’s Microsoft and Innovation: Always ahead of its time or Bad Marketer. Uhm, door number three?

 

Watermark’s Yesterday, on life and the end of life. (Hang in, SB.)

 

Another secret fan of Hurricane Dennis. So far, we’ve had a lot of clouds, but little action. I’d do a rain dance, but I’m afraid I’d scare the neighbors.

More.

 

A story of a pen and how there is a person studying Japanese somewhere who is really dumb.

 

Dave’s Honor and Karl’s followup. The start of what could be a very good discussion.

 

Can I use the word “discussion” in a weblog?

 

As you already know if you read this blog at all regularly, I tend to be obsessive. Nooooo, really, Loren? All friendly teasing aside, I like Loren’s pictures, especially when he adds little tidbits of info with them. Same with Bill, who has reached the mid-summer gardener’s crises.

 

Speaking of which, I entered a couple of photographs into the Missouri State Fair. I won’t win, but I thought it would be fun to participate in a State Fair. I’m thinking of baking a pie for one of the cooking contests; I make a killer apple pie.

 

I love State Fairs. Who says you can’t go home again?

 

First, though, I’m going to go work for eBay.

 

One man who doesn’t need eBay, Doug will be posting a new photo of himself wearing a suit and tie, with Oxford button down shirt and penny loafers, to go with his new position. Congrats, Doug! Just remember: bear grease goes a long way with squeeky loafers.

As for employment situations for tech women, actually, Catarina, we’re leaving the field because we heard that Wal-Mart pays better, and gives away free jars of pickles to its employees.

 

Watch the head lemur shingle! Hammer, nail, cut, trim! Frankly, I find the idea of the head lemur holding both a hammer and a saw to be vaguely disturbing.

 

Phil Ringnalda should be on his annual fishing trip and retreat from the online world right about now. I think for grins and giggles, we should go into Phil’s site and leave comments on a post — any post — the DC post quoting our favorite comic book characters.

 

By the way, I found a wonderful, wonderful collection of photos documenting a bike rider’s Katy Trail ride in 2002. After the Slashdot trashing of Missouri, it’s good to see something positive about the state.

 

This is the type of photography I want to do: telling a story with my pictures. The composition, and the mechanics, and the lens and the camera, these don’t matter. What matters is the story.

 

When you’re halfway through a trail, it’s good to be reminded why you started. I started because of the story.

There goes the head. Back soon.

Categories
Media Places

Bulgaria, Romania, …and Missouri?

The New York Times has an interesting story on the absolutely horrible movies that the Sci-Fi channel has been putting out every week. While I won’t say that these are the only reason I’m quitting cable, the are a reason to quit cable. Especially when I found out that Sci-Fi is marketing these movies at a specific demographic: women, 25 to 54 years of age. Not, contrary to popular myth, 14 year old boys; 14 year old boys who are, we presume, out breaking the law on a Saturday night rather than at home watching really bad movies.

No, women between 25 and 54. So much for Bridges of Madison County.

The article is a good read, though it does require login (if you don’t have a NYT login, email and I’ll send you a copy). My favorite quote from the article:

Shot on budgets ranging from $1 million to $2 million, Sci Fi’s movies are made in money-saving locales like Bulgaria, Romania and Missouri.

I’m sure I’ll eventually be offended by this…when I stop laughing.

(Thanks to Slashdot for the needed light moment.)

Categories
Critters

Although

If the drought killed off certain bug species here in Missouri, I would find it hard to shed a tear. Yes indeedy, my environmental awareness stops at my legs. Or at least, those parts the little shits left after dinner, breakfast, and it would seem, lunch.

Categories
Weather

The misfortune of some

As the old saying goes in the Ozarks, we’re always two weeks away from a drought.

I’ve been following Dr. Jeff Master’s weblog at Weather Underground, as he covers Hurricane Dennis, the strongest July hurricane in this country since records have been maintained. Last night and today, folks are being evacuated in Florida and Alabama, and from Dr. Master’s recent Saturday evening post, it’s a good thing they were:

I urge all residents of the Gulf Coast in Alabama and the Florida Panhandle who were undecided about whether to evacuate to get out now!

Dennis continues to break the rules for what is usual for a hurricane. In my previous blog entry, I wrote that it is very unusual for a major hurricane to regain its former intensity after a long crossing over land. However, Dennis is poised to do just that.

Dennis continues to break the rules for what is usual for a hurricane. As timing would have it, I happened to read this just before putting on a film I checked out from Netflix, the British Science Fiction classic, “The Day the World Caught Fire”.

The story is told from the perspective of a reporter and a London-based newspaper room, filmed in a genuine newspaper office. In the film, the world is knocked out of its orbit from atomic blasts, but the news is kept from the populace. All they know is that the weather has changed, and changed drastically. It’s an extremely powerful movie, and even somewhat uncomfortable to watch. I can see now why many equate it with “The Day the Earth Stood Still”, as one of the finest science fiction movies of all time. What the older British science fiction movies lacked in Playtex Living Monsters, they definitely made up for in suspense and realism.

But I digress. To return to the reality of our own unreal weather, Dr. Masters just wrote another post saying that it’s probably too late, now, to evacuate in the Florida Panhandle. To just sit tight–Dennis is about to hit as a strong category 3, weak category 4 storm.

Hurricane, high winds, and flooding advisories have been issued across several states, and even we in Missouri had a ‘heads up’ because there is a good possibility that Dennis will follow the Mississippi Valley and hit both Illinois and Missouri, passing through Arkansas and Tennessee on the way. Unlike Mississippi, Florida, Georgia, and Alabama, though, we in Arkansas, Missouri, and Illinois are delighted to welcome Dennis to our homes–even with the risk of flooding. We’re now in the midst of what has been declared to be an extreme drought, as the weather monitor map shows.

Dennis is the fourth major tropical story this year, and it’s only a couple of weeks into hurricane season. This is not a good sign for a part of the country that’s still trying to recover from being so badly hit last year. It doesn’t seem like the folks that area have been getting many breaks lately.

We inland have also not been getting any breaks in the weather, either, though we’re not at risk for such devastating loses and potential (but hopefully no) loss of life. It’s sadly ironic, though, that the cause of many people’s despair along the Gulf is the root of some hope in this region. We don’t wish anyone harm, but we need the rain.

The bear I ran into a few weeks back was most likely displaced by the drought. Black bears are ranging farther afield, and have even been swimming the Mississippi into other states. As good as this is for propagation efforts, it also increases the likelihood of a confrontation between bear and human, most likely to the detriment of the bear.

Important grain crops such as corn and soybean are suffering, which means food could be going up in price, and some countries could be going hungry. Economically, this in an area already suffering unemployment and poverty, and now more agricultural workers could be laid off. In addition, many of the farms in this Midwest area are still owned by small farmers, most of whom can’t take a really bad year and stay afloat.

Our hills are at risk for fire, and its probably only a matter of time before we have a major fire. The forests are already suffering from clear cutting in the 1800’s, and another deforestation will have long term consequences to the viability of the Ozark forest. A big story out of the Ozarks last year is the sighting of a previously thought extinct woodpecker. All it could take would be one fire to push this rare bird back into the extinct lists…for good.

Even river traffic is impacted. This year marks the seventh in a drought that’s impacted on the flow of water in the Missouri river, leading to a battle in the US Senate between those who are up-river and those who are down. Missouri is ‘down’ river in case you’re curious. The upriver folks in states like Montana want to hold more of the Missouri’s water in dams, while the downriver want more released.

Though Hurricane Dennis won’t impact on the Missouri River drought, it will on the Mississippi, also running lower than normal. That’s the real danger of lowering Missouri water flow: its impact on the Mississippi, which is fed by northern rivers. Unlike the Missouri, which never did support much in the way of modern river traffic, the Mississippi River is essential to the transportation of agricultural and other products.

Most of us are also dependent on the rivers for our own personal water use, in addition to water for our crops and forests. I just read that the folks in East St. Louis have been issued boil water notices. On the other hand, the lower levels of water in the Meramec have led to better than average fishing, as these Bosnians, I believe they are, found out yesterday, though one ended up losing half his pole when his line got caught up on rocks.

To add injustice to the irony, even if we do get significant moisture from Dennis, enough to provide a decent supply of water, we could be looking at flooding as the water hits on sun-baked dirt, hard as a rock. In addition, Dennis could bring with it the Asian Soybean rust, a virulent fungus that could impact on an already impacted soy crop. As farmers in the region say, though, we’ll deal with things as they come. So we’ll take the rain and worry about the rust, later.

Dennis is going to hit any time now. I wish there was something we could do to help the folks in the region, other than send along our thoughts.

In the meantime, between checking the ‘casts, I spent time yesterday at Shaw Nature Center, which is along the most northern part of the Ozarks. The region isn’t as badly impacted by the drought, but you can see it in the trees and plants: leaves already dropping, plants drooping, flowers opened too early. Normally in a Missouri summer, you can stand in a forest and hear life beating around you. Yesterday, it was silent. The rain coming in will help. Might even be enough to save the monarch migration.