August Lightning

Kurt Hulst and I got together to chase a little lightning last Sunday, August 9.  With dewpoints in the low to mid 70s, temps in the low 90s, and CAPE around 3,000, there was plenty enough gas in the convective tank. Borderline bulk shear and unidirectional winds meant that tornadoes wouldn’t be the order du jour, but it was nice to just get out and watch some storms.

Strong thunderstorm south of Lansing.

Strong thunderstorm near Lansing.

Strangely, even though Kurt and I both knew that it probably didn’t make much difference where we went, north or south–there were a lot of storms to choose from–we had a hard time choosing where we wanted to go. I guess there’s always something that lurks in the back of my head that thinks, I know there won’t be any tornadoes, but just in case, where would one be likeliest to form? It’s dumb, but it’s what goes on in my head and probably what goes on in Kurt’s too, and it tends to needlessly complicate simple choices.

Anyway, we opted to head north and wound up near Saint Johns, where we parked and let a gust front munch us with high winds, spotty but heavy rain, and infrequent lightning.

A lightning bolt strikes outside of Saint Johns, Michigan.

A lightning bolt strikes outside of Saint Johns, Michigan.

Evening colors tinge receding storm clouds.

Evening colors tinge receding storm clouds.

Afterward, we dropped south on I-69 to Charlotte and caught another cell moving in. Kurt got at least one nice lightning shot. I didn’t get anything at that location, but I didn’t mind. The sunset was extraordinarily beautiful, with melon-colored light filtering through wandering rainshafts and turning the sky to a patchwork of clouds, some catching the sunset rays and others concealing them, like a wardrobe filled with glowing garments and gray rags.

Later that night, a second batch of storms blew through Caledonia, and these ones were most sincere. The lightning was nonstop, but the time was late, I was in bed, and I decided to forgo trying to shoot lightning from my balcony and simply lie there and enjoy the show.

August 11, 2009 by
Filed Under: Life, Nature, Outdoors, Photography, Storm Chasing, Weather Tagged With: , , , , , ,

Winter Has Ended. Welcome to the Spring!

In a few short hours, it will be spring. To be more precise, at 7:44 a.m. Eastern Time, the vernal equinox will occur. In a moment of time, the exact center of that enormous ball of gas we call the Sun will cross Earth’s equator, and in that second, winter 2009 will die and this year’s spring will be born.

To celebrate, I thought I’d post a couple of photos. The first is of a medley of pine cones and twigs, artfully woven together by Mother Nature on a bed of needleleaf duff in a grove of evergreens. The forest floor can render some surprising and sublime collages; this one, covered by the snow until only recently, is one of the finest I’ve seen.

Pine cones turn the ground beneath an evergreen grove into a work of art at a roadside park near Ionia, Michigan.

Pine cones transform the floor of an evergreen grove into a work of art at a roadside park near Ionia, Michigan.

The following is a sunset image that I took Wednesday evening at Shaw Lake, just south of Middleville. The lake is surrounded by an incredible example of a rare wetland known as a prairie fen, inhabited by wild orchids and carnivorous plants. It’s an otherworldly place, truly beautiful, and unfortunately, also terribly abused by fishermen who have enough energy to bring in their bait containers, beer cans, and other trash, but evidently not enough muscle, brains, or strength of character to carry their empties out.

Excuse my mini-rant. The photo is of the next-to-last sunset of winter, 2009. It feels more like a sunrise in a sense, with its promise of lengthening days and the rebirth of the green months.

A plume of cirrus lights the sky at sunset at Shaw Lake in northern Barry County.

A plume of cirrus lights the sky at sunset at Shaw Lake in northern Barry County.

March 19, 2009 by
Filed Under: Life, Nature, Outdoors, Photography Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Of Sunset Calendars and Skunk Cabbage

February. Ah, February. From the beginning to the end of this month, we gain an hour and twelve minutes of daylight here in Caledonia, Michigan. That’s thirty-seven minutes in the morning and thirty-five minutes in the evening. Sunset on the 28th will be at 6:31p.m. I call that a pretty good deal, and I’m pleased to see warmer temperatures this weekend giving us a taste, however temporary, of longer, pleasanter days to come.

It’s amazing how much the sunrise/sunset times vary from north to south and east to west in a single state. I won’t cite examples, but if you’re curious enough to find out for yourself, here’s a link to the U.S. Naval Observatory chart to help you do so. Time is stated in military format for the time zone of the particular town you choose, whether EST for Shamokin, Pennsylvania, or MT for Denver, Colorado.

Anyway…the days really are getting longer. Believe it or not, the beginning of the spring wildflower parade isn’t all that far away. It starts subtly, though, and humbly, with the lowly skunk cabbage. I love this odd-looking little plant that sends up its mottled, marroon-and-green hoods in the swamps, often amid melting drifts of snow. Smell a broken piece from any part of the plant and the aroma of burnt rubber and raw onions will quickly tell you that the name skunk cabbage is an apt one. But the plant is nonetheless one of my favorites, both because of its quirky nature and because it is a true harbinger of spring.

As is true of most people, there’s far more to the skunk cabbage than meets the eye. In fact, I smell a post coming up for a future WaterlandLiving blog. Can’t wait to see this pioneer of the wildflowers start putting in its appearance, possibly as early as the end of this month and certainly by mid-March. Once I spot the skunk cabbage, I know that spring is underway at last. And I’m ready for spring, aren’t you?

February 3, 2009 by
Filed Under: Life, Nature, Outdoors, Weather Tagged With: , , , , , , , , ,

Sunset Photos and Sax Licks

We finally got a break in the gray skies and snows. Today’s morning sun rose into a flawless sky, and sunshine predominated all day long, along with warmer–which, at thirty-two degrees, is not to say warm, but an improvement on what we’ve had–temperatures.

I grabbed my saxophone and my camera and headed out to Grand Ledge this afternoon, and on the way out there, I grabbed my first workout in months. I haven’t been in the gym since last October, I’ve been feeling the lack of exercise, and I finally decided the time had come to get back into my workouts. So I dropped in at a modest but great little weight lifting gym out by Lake Odessa and ran through a quick, twenty-minute break-in routine. One set per movement is enough; I’ll be feeling the pain Monday when it comes time for my next bout in the gym.

Anyway…I took a number of photos out near Grand Ledge. The ones I liked best were of an old, deserted farmstead at sunset. Thought I’d share a couple with you.

Old Shed at Sundown

Old Shed at Sundown

The Sun Sinks Lower

The Sun Sinks Lower

Afterwards, I found a place to park my car and practice my saxophone. It has been a while since I’ve spent time on my horn. I’ve been writing a book and have been singularly focused on that, and I need to exercise a little balance, tend to other things that are also important. Staying on top of my sax is right up there at the top. It felt good to limber up my fingers and run through some Charlie Parker licks.

It takes discipline to be a good jazz musician. Licks and ideas you think you own for keeps can desert you after a while if you don’t practice consistently. Fortunately, I’d only been away from my axe for a bit, not long enough to damage me. But it always feels good when I pick it back up.

January 31, 2009 by
Filed Under: Band, Entertainment, Jazz, Music, Photography, Saxophone, Tornadoes, Weather Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , ,