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

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.

Here is a conversation you’re unlikely to overhear at a restaurant:

“I’m going to move.”

“Why? Vermont is such a beautiful state.”

“Not enough tornadoes. I’m thinking maybe Hays, Kansas.”

Nope, you just won’t hear most people talk that way. A generous supply of tornadoes simply isn’t a big selling point for the average homebuyer. On the other hand, if you’re a storm chaser, it could be a compelling reason to sell your chalet near Boise, Idaho, and move to Wakeeney.

I just finished perusing a thread on Stormtrack where chasers were considering this question. The earnestness of the discussion struck my funny bone. I mean, the concept of moving somewhere because it has lots of tornadoes is utterly foreign to most Americans, who are unmotivated by tornado accessibility. In fact, I’d venture to say that many people would consider the idea downright weird. (“You’re moving where because of what?“)

Chasers, however, seem to see nothing unusual about factoring in tornado statistics as a motivating factor in home buying.  It’s weird. And the reason I laugh is because I can relate. I’m not ready to pack up my bags and move from Michigan, because busted economy or not, I love this state. But if I ever do move, it won’t be to California because of the ocean, or Florida because of the warm weather, or Vermont because of its rural New England beauty. It’ll be to the Great Plains because of the dryline.

Realistically, I can’t see it happening anytime soon. I might be able to find a location with a decent brewpub, such as Wichita, but where would I go to hear some decent live jazz, let alone play it? That side of me is as important as the storm chaser in me. Maybe the two can be reconciled. To be honest, I’m not too worried about it. It’s just fun to think about, and certainly worth laughing about.

I do kinda wonder, though, what it would cost to build an underground bunker as a vacation home in the Texas panhandle.

I really don’t hate snow. Loathe it, yes.  Wish it would rot in hell like the fourfold abomination it is, certainly. But hate? Come, now, what is there to hate about snow, other than the fact that it’s cold, wet, miserable, a road hazard, and an overall royal pain in the keister?

Hmmm…judging from my attitude, we’re definitely moving on toward February, when attitudes toward snow here in Michigan tend to shift from  aesthetic appreciation to pragmatism. It takes both an artist and a pragmatist to live in this state year-round.

Okay, I confess: I really don’t hate snow. I just like to gripe about it, that’s all. Looking outside today at the large, white flakes drifting out of the late January sky, I don’t mind admitting that the stuff is downright pretty, and winter wouldn’t be winter without it. From a practical standpoint, we need all the snow we can get, lots and lots of it, to bring the Great Lakes levels back up to snuff from their alarmingly low levels. And just between you and me, speaking as an aesthete, I’d miss snow if we didn’t have it. It’s part of Michigan, and I sure do love this state.

So come on, snow! Hit me with your best shot and see if I don’t come up smiling and asking for more.

I probably won’t. But I’m still glad it’s snowing. Hurray for snow.

I hope it goes away soon, though.

Ice Formations Along the Coastline

These past few days have been busy ones, but yesterday I took time to head out to Lake Michigan with my friend and fellow storm chaser Kurt Hulst to photograph the ice formations. They’re spectacular. If you’ve never heard of them, let alone seen them, I can assure you that you’re missing something. Ice forms all along the Great Lakes shores, but I have a hunch that the formations along the west coast of Lake Michigan are particularly scenic for the same reason that the sand dunes are: they’re a product of the prevailing winds that blow across the lake, whipping waves and spray across vast stretches to create, layer by layer, fantastic frozen sculptures of  ice, sand, and snow. A more austere landscape you can’t hope to find this side of the Arctic Circle–otherworldly, almost alien in its frigid beauty.

I’m not going to write much about the ice formations here because I want to save my creative juices for my next installment on the WaterlandLiving blog this Friday. But I am going to share a few images to give you a taste of one of the upsides of winter in Michigan. And be sure to check out Kurt’s site, too; he’s a great photographer, and I’m sure he’ll have some very cool (pun totally intended) shots of his own on display.

Lighthouse

Lighthouse, Holland State Park

Kurt Out On the Ice

Crack in the Ice

Lake Ice

Man, what a busy day it has been! It’s amazing how occupied I can be without hardly budging from my La-Z-Boy couch. But then, my couch is as much my office as it is a piece of living room furniture. More, for that matter. With my computer keyboard in my lap and my screen parked on a stool to my left, here is where I earn most of my living as a freelance writer.

I’ve spent most of my day hammering out copy for a couple clients. I just finished a project a short while ago. I still have a chewy assignment that I haven’t even begun yet, but that can wait till tomorrow. This weekend will be a busy one, but in this tough economy, it’s great to have the work, and I can say in all honesty and with much gratitude that I have some truly wonderful clients. I am richly blessed, not just with consistent work doing what I love to do, but also with good relationships with people who, besides clients, are friends and brothers in Christ.

But the working day for me is over, and I am now turning my focus to other things. In my spare time, I’m acquainting myself with cPanel and–now that I can actually access the code–revamping the metatags for my Stormhorn.com website. The switchover from GoDaddy to Tablox as a web host, and from b2evolution to WordPress for blog software, has freed me up to take a more hands-on approach to my website and blog, and the next phase of the learning curve for this non-techie has begun.

And that’s just what’s happening on the sidelines. Today I went to the Hastings Public Library and picked up the copy I had requested of Significant Tornadoes, 1680-1981, by Tom Grazulis. It’s a formidable volume–the authoritative, exhaustive record of virtually every significant tornado in United States history that can be traced. Grazulis’s work is nothing short of remarkable, a real labor of love, and the result is a book whose poundage alone is enough to impress. This is one you want to load on a pack mule if you plan on taking it anywhere, but the information it contains is priceless.

And I need that information because I’ve been working on a book on the 1965 Palm Sunday tornadoes. I’ll tell you more about that some other time, but if you’ve followed this blog for a while, then you know that the Palm Sunday tornado outbreak has been a recurrent theme. There is a reason for that, and the time has finally arrived for me to do something about it. I wrote the prologue a couple months ago, and now, after a bit of a delay, I’ve written about two-thirds of the first chapter. I expect to have it completed within the week, and then it’s on to the next phase, which will consist of a fair amount of research.

And that’s enough on that topic. I’ve done enough writing for the day, and my bowl of cottage cheese and mug of abbey ale are demanding my attention.

Notice anything different? My Stormhorn blog has gotten a facelift! While you’ll notice that its appearance deviates a bit from what you’re used to, the real difference is more than cosmetic. Thanks to the effort of my Web designers and friends, Mitch and Karina Myers at Tablox Web Solutions, I’ve made the switch from b2evolution to WordPress blog software. I’ve also changed my Web host from the cluttered, user-unfriendly GoDaddy to Mitch and Karina’s service-oriented, cPanel-based hosting service.

WordPress should be easier for a non-tech like me to get around in, and I expect to refine the appearance and usability of the blog over time. For now, I’m off to a good start, and I’ll begin making improvements when I have a little time to spare. Right now I have a few pressing deadlines, and my copywriting clients come first.

So I’ll keep this short and sweet:

Welcome to the New and Improved Stormhorn Blog, dedicated to my dual passions of jazz saxophone and storm chasing, with a little bit of everything else thrown in for good measure. I hope you’ll find what you like and like what you find.

For whatever reason, the above title just got hold of me, and it”s not going to let go until I do something with it. So here it is in print. Now it”s yours to deal with.

I will say that a few of the teachers I had back in my grade school days did have some pretty cold wits. Mrs. Flikkema could freeze you solid at thirty paces with a sarcastic remark. It”s hard to write a 500-word essay when your fingers are numb to the bone.

But I digress from my objective, which is not to write a lot of words, but to share more pictures from yesterday, plus a couple from today.

Qualitatively, the two days have been very similar, which is to say, just a couple notches above the point where molecules cease to move. Temperatures this cold make for very interesting pictures, and very interesting experiences taking pictures. Earlier, while snapping sunset photos out at Sessions Lake in Ionia Counta, I was distracted by a sudden, tinkling sound. My left earlobe had crystallized, broken off, and shattered into tiny pieces on the ground by my feet.

Okay, that didn”t really happen, but it could have happened. Enough on that subject. Here are some photos.

Today has been brutally cold, but I returned triumphant from my photographic field trip. Something about not merely chilly, but truly marrow-freezing, weather changes the way things look outdoors.

I’ve already written a previous long post here today, and I’ve done plenty of other writing besides, so I’m not in the mood for many words. I just wanted to share with you one of the shots I took today, by way of giving you a sample. I’ll be posting more tomorrow, and you can also see a few images on the WaterlandLiving blog once Dave has got my Friday entry posted.

Whoo-WEEE, is it cold outside! Nine degrees, the KGRR METAR says, but I think the gents at our local WFO are being optimistic. It”s cold enough to make a snowman ask for a down jacket. Cold enough to crystallize a penguin”s nuts. (Did I just say that?) Cold enough to make a summer home in Antarctica sound good. Cold enough to…okay, okay, I”ll stop. Put down that gun. But we are talking one significantly frosty day here in beautiful Caledonia, Michigan, folks, a real booger-freezer if ever there was one.

Tomorrow the temperature is progged to rocket back up to a balmy ten degrees. That”s an improvement, though not one that inclines me to slip on a T-shirt. Saturday, however, the warming trend kicks in full force, and we”ll all be sweating to a downright tropical nineteen degrees. So you can see that there”s light at the end of the tunnel.

I’m going out with my camera in a bit to capture some shots for Dave VanderVeen”s WaterlandLiving blog. I”m not sure what there is to see in weather like this, or how brave I feel about venturing very far out in it. I do have one, um, cool idea, though, so I guess we’ll see. It may get scuttled by lake effect snow. We”re supposed to get a ton of that. But right now the sun is shining. That”s today for you: sunshine, snow, sunshine, snow, back and forth, sloshing around in an atmosphere that feels like the last Fahrenheit has been sucked right out of it. And now, as I look out the window, I see that the wind is starting to kick in. How much more interesting can things get?

What”s particularly ironic is, I”m currently working through Chase Case #8 on Stormtrack, and while all of the other participants are playing to the south on this particular virtual synoptic setup, I”m sitting right here in Caledonia under a moderate risk, waiting for either a model update or for tornadic thunderstorms to fire. Sixties dewpoints, temps in the seventies, nice backing winds…mmmm-hmmm, right. If there”s a solitary dewpoint out there right now, it”s freezing its little buns off.

But I can dream. In fact, right about now, that”s my only option as a storm chaser.

Just wait till May, though. Just wait till May.

The single-digit temperatures are here at last, and it looks like they’ll be staying for a few days.

Tonight the mercury is supposed to dip down to ten below zero. That, my friends, is cold. Tomorrow, the projected high–and we”re using that word, high, loosely here–is seven degrees. Think twice before wearing your thong swimsuit to the beach. Particularly if you’re a guy. (For that matter, if you’re a guy, think twice about it any time of year; better still, just don”t do it.)

On Friday, we see the kind of warming trend that puts a smile on the faces of Michiganders everywhere as the temperatures skyrocket up to nine degrees. And by Saturday, we”re feeling downright tropical at a steamy twenty degrees.

This is most assuredly January in Michigan. It”s the month of the Wolf Moon, an apt name if ever there was one. At night, as the temperatures plummet and the stars gleam like ice chips in the arctic sky, you can hear the howls echoing eerily across the frozen lakes. It”s a haunting, wild sound that you never forget, emanating from ice fishermen who are freezing their butts off. What those guys are doing out there in temperatures like these is beyond me.

nOkay, so enough about cold weather. How about a word on a hot CD? My friend Ed Englerth‘s album Restless Ghost has been nominated for a Jammie Award. The Jammies are the regional equivalent of the Grammies–not as prestigious, to be sure, but not lacking in glamor and promotional value. It would be great if Ed scored, particularly since I played on a number of songs on the CD. It really is a great album, and Ed is a terrific songwriter and lyricist who deserves much wider recognition.