Month: February 2021

What a Moon – Day 839

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Magical Moon – 27 Feb 2021 – Photo: L. Weikel

What a Moon

Mmm mmm mmm. I’m so glad we made ourselves walk tonight! We’d missed our chance to walk during the bright, enticing, and totally unexpected sunshine. And by the time the opportunity to walk arose, we were more inclined to hunker down with some stuffed shells, a big salad, and the tv clicker. But no. We pushed ourselves. And oh baby, what a moon awaited.

Quite honestly, sometimes 90% of the effort it takes to take a walk some days is mustering the effort to get our stuff on (including Spart’s coat and harness) and walk out the door. Getting out the door. Who knew that would be our biggest accomplishment some days?

It’s true though. Even living in a drafty old house that’s not hermetically sealed off from the elements, we can still easily find ourselves totally out of touch with the true state of the elements. For instance, after dragging my heels over readying myself for a lap around the ‘walk about,’ I was exhilarated when I stepped onto the porch and took a deep breath of refreshingly cool – but not frigid – air.

Full Virgo Moon – Photo: L. Weikel

Anticipation

I’ll admit part of the impetus that got me out the door was the anticipation of seeing the full Virgo moon rise above the fields along our route. And she did not disappoint.

As we started out on our evening sojourn, all we could see was a bright glow in the eastern sky. A quarter of a mile into our journey, though… Bam! There she was.

And I must confess: I’m going to have to do some research to see if there’s a trick to help me sneak up on the moon when she rises so huge and pregnant with promise, for it seems no matter what I do or how I try, I can never replicate her magnificence. She either looks too bright and big (thus resembling the sun, which not only dishonors her tremendous reflective gifts but also conceals her lovely craters and landscape in flashy distraction) or she appears entirely too teeny tiny on the horizon. I cannot seem to find the perfect balance that does her justice.

Full Virgo Moon Rising – Photo: L. Weikel

 The Quest Continues

I know the temperatures today were mild and significant melting occurred. For one thing, the veritable mountain of sunflower seed shells underneath each of our feeders make it look like we were carpet bombed by bags of Agway seed.

But for all the melting going on elsewhere, the fields seem to be immune to the swarthy glances of the sun. In fact, the unmistakable sheen of a crisp coating of ice glistened on all the fields we passed. The moon’s countenance, of course, was the designated shimmer.

Moonbeams on Ice Field – Photo: L. Weikel

Silence Reigned

Once I exhausted my efforts to capture the magic of the moon tonight, I settled into the simple pleasure of just being, and walking, with Karl. After about a mile, we noticed how the only sound we heard was the rushing flow of the Tohickon far below the rocky cliffs along our route. No owls hooting. Not even the rustle of a single creature in the brush. Silence, broken only by the voice of the melting snow merging with the creek as it tumbles and whooshes toward its merger with the Lenape Sipu – the Delaware River.

Lovely.

(T-272)

Sense of Completion – Day 838

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Journal – Photo: L. Weikel

Sense of Completion

It’s a full moon tonight/today. Technically, I’m writing this at midnight Friday night – and the moon will reach its fullness at 3:17 a.m. EST, just a scootch over three hours from now. But all day Saturday the moon will be considered full. And I just realized how the full moon is manifesting for me this month: in the sense of completion that comes with filling another journal cover to cover.

I began this journal at the beginning of August, a few days after discovering I’d left my prior journal buried in the cushions of our porch glider only to have it soaked by a torrential thunderstorm that saturated piles and piles of pillows and glider cushions to wreak havoc on my treasured notebook. The soaking and subsequent irreparable running of colored inks left many pages of that journal looking like simple watercolor washes. Utterly unreadable. It was awful, and I finally wrote about it here.

Momentous Memories

This current ‘diary’ that will be retired tomorrow spans just shy of seven months and contains some truly profound and treasured experiences. Its deep purple cover shields the pages that document our beloved Sheila’s decline and eventual passing in September.

On the other end of the spectrum, it spans the wedding of our youngest son – although, truth be told, I wrote more about the wedding here in my blog posts than I did in my actual journal. Sometimes, when you’re being pulled in several directions at once and trying to get a lot of last minute details covered, something has to give. Sadly, detailed entries for a spate of days in October were casualties of time devoted instead to hand-painting masks for the wedding party – a sacrifice I don’t regret. Although – as usual – I am disappointed that I didn’t slog through the sleepiness and capture more specific feelings and details.

But hey – at least I kept true to my 1111 Devotion and managed to get posts written and published throughout the entire festivities. Those posts were documentations too, just of a different sort.

The In-Between

And between those two high of highs and low of lows were the details of a pandemic spreading across our nation. Two pandemics, actually: one called Covid-19 that has topped 500,000 deaths in our country alone (in the span of a year) and another called political disinformation and lies by those elected as our representatives and leaders, leading to a literal armed insurrection.

Yep, this journal has seen a lot.

As usual, I’m grateful for the memories and eager to begin a new chapter in my life.

(T-273)

Puddle Reflection – Day 837

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Photo: L. Weikel

Puddle Reflection

Every once in a while I like to take a photo from an unconventional perspective. The reason this appeals to me, I suspect, is because time and again I see how much can change when we shift our perspective. Usually when I think about perspective it’s in terms of looking at something emotional or experiential in our lives differently, such as a friendship, a conversation, a life choice, or an attitude. But every once in a while it’s fun to just get full-on literal – like a puddle reflection.

I think what I like most about these is that they sometimes cause those almost cartoonish double-takes. You know, the ones where we shake our heads so rapidly that our cheeks flap noisily?

And I suspect the reason for that double-take is that we already have it in our head what we think or ‘know’ we’re going to look at. At least, we’re assuming we know what we’re going to look at. So we look and we see. At first glance, we see what we expected. But then…

All of a sudden, we realize the truth. We’re looking at something that’s not at all what it appears to be. We can’t reach out and touch it. If we do, our hand either hits something flat and solid or it causes the entire charade to shimmer and waiver, disappearing into a million incoherent echoes. Either way, what we thought was real and right in front of us – wasn’t.

Lunar Effort

Last night the growing moon just begged to have her photo taken. She felt vain and perhaps a little insecure. Maybe she feels she has something to prove? I don’t know. The fact is, she is following on the heels of last month’s utterly enormous full moon, the one that seemed to take up all the room in the sky.

I tried taking her photo; several times, in fact. A panoramic view: nope. Close up: nope. Nothing I took did justice to her efforts. She was much more brilliant and beautiful than she was permitting herself to believe.

And then I saw her reflection in the puddle on the side of the road. The February snows are still a good foot deep in many places around here in spite of the near-50 degree weather of the last two days. Melting is happening, though, and puddles are appearing.

So I took a couple of those puddle reflections.

Trickster

And it’s only now, when I look at these photos, that I wonder if this month’s waxing moon is happiest trying to trick me. Maybe it’s her travel through Leo, actually – the drama queen sign – ok, the sign of high drama. Curiously enough, I just checked and the moon was literally moving into the sign of Leo precisely as we were taking our walk and I was taking these photos.

Maybe the Leo moon wanted to get lost in a Milky Way galaxy of stars but found itself grounded, so had to pretend its way out? I don’t know; but it is a cool experience to think you’re looking up at the moon in the sky, surrounded by globules of celestial stuff only to realize – wait – what exactly am I looking at?

Makes Me Wonder

How often do we see what we expect to see or hear what we assume is being said – but are actually getting it totally wrong?

Photo: L. Weikel

(T-274)

What Don’t I Know – Day 836

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My Mother – 1939

What Don’t I Know

Perhaps it’s because my mother was 42 when she had me – and her mother was 42 when she had her. I don’t even know if I know how old my mother’s grandmother was when she had my grandmother; it’s been a while since I logged into my Ancestry account. But that highlights an ache I have deep down: what don’t I know about the people whose genes run through me? Who were they? What did they value most in life? Did they have talents or abilities that I might share if only I knew about them? How did they deal with conflict, adversity, and success?

One of my pre-pandemic secret pleasures was watching Finding Your Roots on PBS. The show, hosted by Harvard professor Henry Louis Gates, Jr., traces the ancestral roots of at least two celebrities each episode. Sometimes the lineages of people you’d never think would have any relation to each other do, in fact, intersect. Almost always there’s something quite fascinating uncovered in either the tracing process or the DNA analysis that gives new perspective or insight into themselves to the person lucky enough to be a ‘guest’ on the show.

Full disclosure: there’s no reason I couldn’t watch it now. It just so happened that I would watch the show on the evenings that Karl would be traveling on business and staying somewhere overnight. He doesn’t seem to share my delight in the discoveries made about the lives of other people’s ancestors, and it’s rare I have the television clicker to myself nowadays. (Not that I’m complaining.)

An Amazing Story

I’m bringing this up because I read an astonishing story this morning in The Washington Post that I want to share with you. It’s the story not only of a woman of unfathomable determination and courage. Indeed, her story alone ended up warranting its own book. But even more moving to me is the fascinating reality that her own progeny had no idea how her story, her courage, her choices so profoundly impacted the generations that came after her.

This story captivated me.

The tale of Henrietta Wood’s progeny’s serendipitous discovery of her impressive story was equally delicious in its own way.

Why I Write

There are times when I’m writing in my journal about the mundane details of my life that I wonder if anyone will ever read my words someday and think, “My great grandmother was really strange. No wonder I am the way I am.” OK, maybe I think that when I’m writing about some of the more magical aspects of my life.

But still.

I’m sad that I don’t have the journals of my ancestors. I’d love to know how they thought about things and why they made the choices they did.

I wish I were a celebrity worthy of having my lineage traced by the myriad staffers on Finding Your Roots.

What don’t I know about those who came before me that might completely shift how I think about myself?

(T-275)

Gilded Sentinels – Day 835

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Facing east – Photo: L. Weikel

Gilded sentinels

The sunshine illuminating the massive cedar trees at the edge of the field seemed to turn them into gilded sentinels. They didn’t care that dark clouds lurked behind them, whispering threats of last minute snow squalls. They could feel the urge to awaken and sprout new growth being lured to the surface of their needles by the sunshine peeking its head out of hibernation.

I have to smile when I look at what I’m using as my inspiration this evening and positioning as the top photo on this post. It wouldn’t surprise me if you look at it and find it bland and entirely uninspiring. That reaction could be attributed at least partially to me simply finding it difficult to find the right angle on that stand of trees to capture the essence of the joy they brought me when I first caught sight of them.

Another reason, though, just might be that the photo itself is rather, well, bland. But I’ll tell you what. When Karl and I set off on our walk late this afternoon, I found myself reveling in the mild air. It was one thing to know from the Weather Channel app on my phone that the temperature outside was going to climb today – and go even higher tomorrow. But it was quite another to feel it on my face.

So what’s with the boring photo of the trees? Simple. My heart cracked open when sunlight pierced the clouds lingering in the west and bathed the entire swath of cedars in its warm glow.

Looking toward the west – Photo: L. Weikel

Taste of Spring

It’s only February 23rd. I’m under no illusions. There will almost certainly be more snow before spring arrives – and even that is no barrier to at least one good final wallop. And that’s true for just any old year. This year, though, is just spectacular for snow; so no, while it may be tempting to believe the sweet nothings being whispered in our ears by the sunshine coaxing slumbering seeds to start stirring, rest assured – it’s engaging in a little teasing trickery.

My prediction? This is only a taste. But I’ll take it; and I’ll savor it.

Which I guess is why I took the photo. Seeing the sunshine on those trees and feeling the almost balmy air on my cheeks made me hopeful.

The rest of the walk yielded some more classically lovely shots, which of course I’ll also share. But I didn’t want to upstage the joy I sensed from those first trees and their gilded – or was it bronzed? – delight.

Brilliant Beams – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-276)

Sun Dog – Day 834

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Evolution of a Sun Dog? – Photo: L. Weikel

Sun Dog

I can’t say for sure that the atmospheric phenomenon we observed late the other afternoon was technically a sun dog. But it sure looked cool.

To my eye, it didn’t look like most of the examples I saw when I looked ‘sun dog’ up on the internet. Most of the examples I saw seemed to indicate that sun dogs appear two at a time – one on each side of the sun, usually at a 22° angle. There were a number of other phenomena described that are apparently closely associated: rainbow halos and, although they weren’t called it in the couple of things I read, rainbow dogs, being a few.

This Wikipedia entry on sun dogs is impressively thorough. I found this reference toward the end of the “Etymology” section sounded a lot like my idea of the rainbow dogs with which I’m familiar: “

“In the Anglo-Cornish dialect of Cornwall, United Kingdom, sun dogs are known as weather dogs (described as “a short segment of a rainbow seen on the horizon, foreshowing foul weather”).”

Tracking the dog – Photo: L. Weikel

As Above, So Below

Again, though, almost everything I read indicates an expectation of at least two sun dogs appearing on either side of the sun. My photos from yesterday’s post and those accompanying today’s post definitely portray a ‘double sun’ one on top of the other. I at least took comfort in the historical reference from Rome that mentioned a “double sun.” Most of the others described a triple sun.

Some descriptions seem to definitively state that sun dogs occur on either side of the sun – never above or below. But that’s precisely what we witnessed; so that’s puzzling.

The brilliant red color of the sun dog, if we want to call it that, particularly as the sun was sinking behind the cloud in the photos of this post, is in keeping with the descriptions of many sun dogs. But as you can see, it really did look like a round red twin sun – but in more of a totem pole configuration than a side-by-side, defying conventional description.

Technical Talk

All the technical talk of refraction of sunlight off of ice crystals in the atmosphere actually lends credence to accurately considering our experience to have been one of witnessing a sun dog.

Technically speaking, I’m still marveling at the stunning beauty that unfolded before our eyes. Refraction, reflection, ice crystals, sunset, omens, feeling ‘lucky’ for having been at the perfect place at the perfect time to watch the sun go through this optical evolution…

Just because we understand the mechanics behind our observations doesn’t make them any less of a delight – or detract from the rarity of experiencing such a meteorological treat – and celebrating it as a blessing of sorts.

This blessing is for all of us. Surely good things are on the horizon.

Photo: L. Weikel

(T-277)

Teardrop Sun – Day 833

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Teardrop Sun – Photo: L. Weikel

Teardrop Sun

The cloud with silver (and gold) lining, which I wrote about last night, was enough in and of itself to make our walk yesterday worth the effort. We didn’t need any further meteorological magic to reward our efforts to bundle up and move our behinds. But there it was – a mile or so later – a phenomenon I’d never seen before: a teardrop sun.

It almost looked as though the sun was transforming into an enormous comet, trailing a molten glob of itself as it plunged earthward.

It Only Got Better

Then, only a few steps later, we watched in awe as the sun seemed to engage in a form of solar mitosis. We found ourselves gazing at the setting sun and witnessing it split in two right before our eyes.

Solar Mitosis – Photo: L. Weikel

We stopped only long enough for me to try to capture the surreal beauty of this odd phenomenon. But every few yards, we felt the need to document the transformation as it unfolded before us. This ‘double sun’ experience persisted for maybe ten minutes at the most. (It evolved into something different, yet additionally exquisite, but that’s for tomorrow’s post.)

In the meantime, we noticed a couple approaching us from the crest of the hill we were just beginning to ascend. They, too, kept stopping every few yards, gazing toward the west in unmistakable appreciation of the atmospheric wonder we were all sharing. We met in the middle of the hill, exclaiming how none of us had ever seen anything like it.

Double Sun – Photo: L. Weikel

I shared with them the photos I’d just taken, one after the other. One of them, a young man who confessed to always ‘seeing stuff’ in the sky, suggested we were witnessing a ‘sun dog.’ Without knowing exactly what that was, it sounded plausible; none of us were sure. Part of me thought ‘sun dog’ sounded too close to ‘rainbow dog’ – a free association that bore little use to anything.

Sustaining the Mystery

Not wanting to end the magic of the moment, we parted ways, each continuing in the direction we were originally headed. It was almost as if too much human chatter would spoil the mystery of the experience.

Amazing as it was, the show had not yet reached its conclusion. Luckily for us, the atmospheric performance still had a curtain call to top off our evening.

This is really what it looked like – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-278)

Silver Lining – Day 832

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Not quite sure what this was, but: Whoa – Photo: L. Weikel

Silver Lining

Karl and I managed to get out for a walk today earlier than we have in quite a while. Nevertheless, it was still late afternoon, so by the time we got most of the way around our usual two mile jaunt, the sun was starting to give serious thought to setting. That’s when the silver lining gave way to some serious ice crystal dazzle.

Seriously, I got so many amazing photos this afternoon, I could probably write at least two more posts just celebrating the breathtaking moments of the final 20 minutes of our walk.

It’s funny. This dilemma I’m feeling is stemming from learning (or failing to fully integrate, perhaps) that little writers’ admonition not to hoard our experiences. And yet just last night, I intentionally chose not to share the odd photo that showed up on my phone between the two photos I used in my post. In fact, I even mentioned the peculiar photo and teased that I pretty much intended to write about it tonight.

But now here I am. Conflicted.

A Progression

The sky this afternoon provided some stunning moments that demanded we stop and pay full, unadulterated attention to the sky.

My conflict arises from my desire to transmit our experience to you in the same progression Mother Nature unfurled it to us, for the changes moment to moment, minute to minute, yielded their own unique set of exclamations, while at the same time wanting to skip to the climactic conclusion.

If I don’t lay out the entire progression that we experienced this afternoon, I run the risk of having life intervene and never ending up sharing the best with you.

Silver (or is that gold?) lining on the horizon – Photo: L. Weikel

Silver Lining

I’m going to risk the delay and take my time sharing the manner in which the sun performed today. But first, the photo from yesterday – the seemingly random, almost certainly accidental cascade of light, which I include at the beginning of this post.

I don’t know where this came from; it was taken, or at least showed up in my iPhone photos between the two photos of ice-covered tree branches I used in last night’s post. I just thought it was…odd. Maybe even breathtaking. Certainly reminiscent of, oh, I don’t know…Close Encounters of the Third Kind? (Weird trailer alert!)

Today’s walk, on the other hand, began with the sun hiding its light behind a substantial cloud on the horizon. But in behaving in a manner that resembled shyness, it was promising hope: providing us with the iconoclastic ‘silver lining.’

Near or far, the message was clear – there is the potential for good in even the darkest clouds on the horizon.

A closer look – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-279)

Snagged It – Day 831

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Icy Tree – Photo: L. Weikel

Snagged It

Last night I waxed on about my hope that today would bring the shimmering beauty of ice coating tree branches, blades of grass, and pine needles. While such crystalline delights are enhanced by the reflections and refractions of sunlight, that wasn’t happening today. But then, even though we walked well after sundown, between some well-positioned porch lights and an assist from an approaching car, our neighbors’ tree declared its brilliance and demanded an appearance in my blog. And I snagged it!

So without further ado, I give you the wintery wonder of our walk this evening.

Waxing Moon

It precipitated pretty much all day here; there was no sunshine peeking out anywhere. So when we looked up and saw Grandmother Moon beaming down upon us, we were happy to welcome her as our unexpected companion.

Once again, the silence was such a balm to our souls. Our walk was mostly focused on remaining upright and immersing ourselves in the comfort of our togetherness.

As I was sending the photos included in this post from my phone to my laptop, I came across one that really has me wondering just what it is I’m looking at.

Maybe I’ll share it tomorrow. I would prefer to give it its own platform – mostly because the moon and the ice lacing the trees deserve their own night in the spotlight.

I’m so grateful I snagged a shot to share!

Waxing Winter Moon – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-280)

It’s Ugly – Day 830

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 2 Comments
Another day, another year, but beautiful nonetheless – Photo: L. Weikel

It’s Ugly

I’m struggling to come up with something interesting to write about this evening. Everything just seems so damn depressing. From the politics of last week to climate change this week, preparing for the impact of which was completely botched by politicians in Texas due to their slavish dedication to the vaunted holy grail of deregulation, it’s ugly. And that’s not even mentioning the ongoing pandemic and the threat of what seems like a bazillion mutations appearing now and expected to continue dodging, dancing, and shifting their structures into the future.

I look out my window at the moment and see a car slowly making its way along our road, ice crunching under the tires. It’s slippery out there. I know firsthand.

A Miserable Mix

As we walked late this afternoon, the precipitation was a miserable mix of sleet and rain that turned to ice as soon as it hit anything – including my jacket. Running my hand along my sleeve or the front of my jacket felt like I was reading braille.

On the last stretch of the walk there were at least three inches of snow on the road surface, with a coating of ice on top that added that crunchy cadence to all our footsteps – even Spartacus’s. It was easier to walk in the thicker stuff. Anything that had been packed down was completely slick. So I was careful.

But as we started to make our final descent down the hill that leads to the crossroads near our home, my feet went out from under me. This fall unfolded more slowly than the last one (in which I smacked the back of my head) and I must say, I do believe I scored at least a 7.5 in grace.

Tomorrow’s Promise

I do have one hope that always bubbles up on days like this and never grows old. It’s the hope that we will awaken tomorrow to an indescribably breathtaking winter wonderland, where every single branch of every single tree, every single blade of grass and every single pine needle is coated in ice. And to top off the perfection, the sun needs to come out and cast glistening rainbows making life look like it’s taking place inside a magical kingdom.

If I’m lucky, I’ll see it and share the magic with all of you. In the meantime, we’ll have to make due with memories from other such storms. Because trust me – there was nothing but gray skies to document today.

Icicles – Photo: L. Weikel

 

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