Sunset at Gun Lake

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A beautiful day and a warmer day. A day too nice to ignore. That’s what today has been, and the beginning of a warming trend, to boot. The snow has been melting on the balcony, and beneath the slanting, southerly light of a cloudless January sky, the birds were going absolutely nuts at the feeders earlier.

“Let’s take a drive,” I said to Lisa. She has been in the middle of a massive crocheting project, I’ve been sequestered inside my own head with various writing projects and

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weatherly explorations, and it seemed to me that it would do us both good to pull away for a little while and enjoy the remnant of the day.

So off we went with our cameras to Gun Lake fifteen miles to our south in northern Barry County to watch the sun set. I thought I’d share three of the photos I took there in the state park. Click on them to enlarge them.

The deer was one of three yearlings that were hanging out next to the park drive. They were preoccupied with foraging and appeared completely unconcerned about the tan Buick Century that had pulled up alongside them, or the human on the other side of the driver’s-side window who was busily snapping pictures.

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The bright orange blob is a parasail, and the guy to its left had just finished with an hour or so of snowboarding out on the frozen lake. As for the sunset, that’s self-explanatory. The one thing unique about it is the vantage point out on the Gun Lake ice, a perspective unavailable to me during the warm season.

With nothing bursting at the seams for me to write about either musically or weatherwise, I figured the photos would offer a pleasant diversion. A little splash of color to brighten a mid-winter day never hurts, right?

Blue Moon on New Year’s Eve

They call it a “blue moon”–a second full moon in the same month. It’s a rare occurrence in itself, but tonight’s blue moon will be all the more unusual because it’s occurring on New Year’s Eve. Now we’re talking about a REALLY rare event–once every 20 years, in fact.

But wait–it gets even better. This blue moon will also undergo a partial eclipse. Don’t get too hopped up about it, though. If you live in the northern hemisphere, you won’t be seeing it. Elsewhere in the world, though, in places far removed from my little old hometown of Caledonia, Michigan, sky watchers will get to witness the whole shebang: a blue moon eclipsing on New Year’s Eve.

Those of us who reside in Michigan, on the other hand, will be lucky if we get to see the moon at all. With snow in the forecast, it’s highly unlikely we’ll get so much as a fleeting glimpse.

Too bad. I was looking forward to seeing a New Year’s Eve blue moon. I hate to think I’ll have to wait another 20 years before I get my next crack at one.

Maybe there’ll be a rift in the clouds, just long enough to offer a quick glance.

My heart is hopeful and my fingers are crossed.

The First Day of Winter

As far as East Coasters are concerned, with 26 inches of snow falling on Long Island in yesterday’s blizzard, winter has already arrived. For that matter, here in Michigan, you’d be hard put to convince anyone otherwise when it comes to the practical sense of the word winter. Look outside and what do you see? Snow, and lots of it. Sure looks like winter to me, and has looked that way for a good month.

But today at 12:57 a.m. EST–less than three hours from now as I write these words–winter will become official. That is the precise minute of the winter solstice, the time when the sun reaches its southernmost position over the Tropic of Capricorn and begins its journey back north. From then on, the slow but steady pilgrimage toward spring will be underway.

In my hometown of Caledonia, according to my sunrise/sunset calendar, the sun rose today at 8:09 a.m. and will set at 5:11 p.m. EST. That gives us nine hours and two minutes of daylight on the shortest day of the year. From this point, we’ll struggle a bit trying to add those extra, tiny increments of daylight. The sun will set a little later each day, but it will also continue to rise a little later for a while, nibbling away another four minutes of dawn until January 7. That’s the day when, after tipping above the horizon at 8:13 a.m. for seven days straight–the sun will finally rise at 8:12. We’ll have added a minute in the morning and, by then, 14 minutes in the evening–a total of 15 minutes. By the end of January, we’ll have gained 58 minutes of  daylight.

Gray and cold though today may be, with a light snow falling steadily outside my deck door, winter solstice is nevertheless a welcome landmark. Its frozen arrival portends the lengthening of light and the certainty of spring. And this one comes with a visit from my brother Patrick, whom I haven’t seen in several years. It’s wonderful to see him; a more welcome Christmas gift I couldn’t ask for.

Whatever the winter brings–and with a strong El Nino in force, it could be a doozy for many–today is the time when the forces that conspire to create snow, ice, and bitter cold begin to lose their logistics. Winter’s batteries may presently be charged to the max, but the countdown to storm season is about to begin.

Moderate El Nino Firmly Entrenched through the Winter

While a few skeptics will no doubt persist, it now appears certain that the present, moderate El Nino will stay with us through the winter, and possibly even strengthen. Here is what the Climate Prediction Center has to say in its November 23 update:

•  During the last four weeks, positive equatorial SST [sea surface temperature] anomalies persisted across the central and eastern Pacific Ocean.

•  During the last 30 days, equatorial SST anomalies increased in some regions across the eastern half of the Pacific.

•  Nearly all ENSO models indicate El Niño will continue through the Northern Hemisphere winter 2009-10. The models disagree on the eventual strength of El Niño, but a majority indicate at least a moderate strength El Niño (greater than +1.0°C) through December-January-February 2009-10.

•  A majority of ENSO models indicate El Niño will continue through March-April-May 2010.

All of the above adds up to the fact that the western Great Lakes region is in for a mild winter. Those of us in Michigan who remember last year’s 200-inch snowfall and bone-freezing cold will welcome the above-average temperatures and below-average precipitation.

The South will also be seeing relief, albeit in a different but no less welcome form. Average to cooler temperatures and above-average precipitation will bring relief to at least some of the areas blasted by last year’s severe drought. Texas looks to be a major beneficiary.

The plenitude of rainfall in store for the southern Gulf Coast and Texas suggests that whatever concerns we may face during next year’s storm season, moisture won’t be one of them. Particularly after last May’s huge letdown, it’s nice to think that in 2010 there ought to be plenty of gas to fuel the convective engine.

Of course, that’s still a long way off. Right now, the best we can do is cross our fingers and hope for no repeats of 2009’s death ridge. I have a hunch that this coming year will be a good one. But first we’ve got a winter to get through, and it’s nice to think this one won’t be as nasty as its predecessor.

The Farmers’ Almanac, Woolly Bears, and Government Cover-Ups

Given the unreliability of long-range forecast models, there’s a lot of justifiable skepticism in the storm chasing community when someone (like me, for instance) talks about an event that’s 120 or more hours out. Beyond maybe three days, trying to forecast weather events becomes increasingly like reading tea leaves. We watch the ECMWF and GFS for signs of agreement and consistency, and if they start showing up, we cross our fingers, knowing that a lot can happen between now and payday.

So I’m not sure what to think when the revered Farmers’ Alamanac gazes into its crystal ball and issues with serene confidence the following prognostication for the Great Lakes region:

November 2009
1st-3rd. Sunny, with increasing clouds. 4th-7th. Rain spreads in from the west. Turning clear and frosty. 8th-11th. Rapid temperature changes. Storm moves east, with heavy rain or wet snow. Frigid cold air follows. 12th-15th. New storm moves into Great Lakes. Heavy rain and/or wet snow. Then clearing and very cold. 16th-19th. Storm sweeps across the area, followed by very cold air. Fast-moving storm, reaching the region by the 19th. Heavy snow, followed by colder air. 20th-23rd. Cold Canadian front brings rain and thunderstorms for the Great Lakes region. 24th-27th. A wet Thanksgiving.  28th-30th. Few rain or wet snow showers. Turning colder.

December 2009
1st-3rd. Rain and wet snow shift into the Great Lakes, south to Kentucky, followed by clear and cold weather. 4th-7th. Storm Ohio River Basin deposits heavy rain and wet snow. Very cold air follows. 8th-11th. A “winterlude” for Great Lakes and the Ohio River Basin. Temperatures still well below seasonal norms. 12th-15th. Scattered snow showers and flurries. 16th-19th. Considerable cloudiness over most areas, but little precipitation. Nights are seasonably cold, days are mild. 20th-23rd. Rain and/or snow.

Not being a climatologist, I’m unaware of what sophisticated meteorological resources the Farmers’ Almanac may be tapping into. Possibly they’ve been consulting woolly bear caterpillars. According to folklore, you can tell how severe the winter will be by the ratio of brown to black banding on the woolly bears. Plenty of brown means a mild winter; wide black bands with little brown points to a nasty snow season. A few weeks ago, I found an all-black woolly bear. I knew that couldn’t be good.

If only we could get the woolly bears to cooperate when storm chasing season is underway. But the little critters have other things on their minds by then, namely, pupating and becoming Isabella tiger moths. So I guess we’re stuck with the Euro and the GFS. Or sacrificing chickens, though the research supporting the link between chicken sacrifice and improved storm intercepts is slim.

No doubt the government is covering up the information, just like they do everything that’s related to severe weather. They want us to remain ignorant, unsuspecting guinea pigs while the weather gods at Norman conduct their insidious experiments, using their array of antennas and radars to generate monster tornadoes 400 miles away and then guide them unerringly through populated areas. Take the May 13 Kirksville, Missouri, tornado, for instance. That one had Government Issue written all over it. The lack of a single shred of substantiating evidence just goes to show how expert Big Brother is at keeping the truth hidden.*

That’s why you’ll find no NOAA papers correlating tornado outbreaks and chicken sacrifice. Same with woolly bears and long, hard winters–though the Farmers’ Alamanac folks, bless their hearts, have obviously made the connection, and hence, they have the weather for November and December pretty well locked in. I call that kind of forecasting ability reassuring.

As for the rest of us, well, we’ve got the ECMWF, the GFS, and tea leaves. How do you like your tea?

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* The following disclaimer is intended only for those who take me seriously: I’M JUST KIDDING! Sad that I’ve even got to say it, but the truth is, some folks out there do in fact believe some damn crazy things about the government’s ability to manipulate the weather. I’m not one of them, and I wouldn’t want to be mistaken for such.

That being said, I would love to see the SPC’s research on chicken sacrifice and tornadogenesis.

My White-Top Pitcher Plants Are Open for Business!

Bugs, beware! My white-top pitcher plant, Sarracenia leucophylla, has sent up its flush of autumn traps. The two largest traps are open, and they are spectacular. And, I might add, with the weather warming up these past couple of days, they have been doing business. I was there just in time to witness the first

hornet fall prey to one of the newly opened leaves. It landed on the lid, poked around for a bit, then promptly dropped straight down into the tube and wedged hopelessly at the very bottom. Today, with the sun backlighting the leaves, I could see the shadows of more insects, some struggling to get out. It was a rather grim drama playing out under the bright sunshine, but I’m no fan of yellow jackets, and I find it hard to feel much pity for insects that have been known to land on me and sting me just for the apparent mean-spirited hell of it.

Anyway, the two newly opened leaves look stunning, and four more are in various stages of development. I thought I’d share a photo with you; click on the image to enlarge it. You’ll find more shots of the white-top and other North American pitcher plants in the Wildflowers & Outdoors section of my Photos page.

Grasshopper Passion

So here I am, caught on the twin-horned dilemma of no storms to chase and no gigs to play. But you, my faithful readers, are longing for a word from Stormhorn.com, and I feel my responsibility toward you weighing heavily upon me. What can I offer you?

Grasshopper passion.

A few weeks ago, back in September, I took a hike at a nature park in nearby Ada, Michigan. Evidently, early fall is the season of love for grasshoppers, a time during which they become the Woodstock generation of the insect world, and in numerous places all along the trail, hoppers were locked in shocking, shameless public displays of unbridled lust.

Somehow, though, I found it hard to take offense. Probably my moral sensitivity has become dulled by Hollywood and advertising. Then again, grasshopper passion just isn’t all that passionate. By way of example, I submit the following photo of a couple locked in the throes of ecstasy. Click the image to enlarge it, though why you would want to do so is beyond me.

I have to say, judging by the looks on their faces, that this pair doesn’t seem particularly excited. In fact, they don’t even appear to be awake. When your brain is the size of an ant booger, situational awareness just isn’t going to be one of your key strengths.

I took a number of shots of these two hoppers, and they all look the same. I can testify that what you see here is as heated as it gets. A minute later, neither of my subjects had moved a solitary grasshopper muscle. It’s as if having sex had turned them to stone. Having better things to do than wait for them to finish their sordid business (Him: “So…was it good for you?” Her: “Was what good for me?” Him: “I’m not sure.”), I moved on.

Taken altogether, insect porn is pretty G-rated stuff, on a par with watching Kermit the Frog eat oatmeal. Parents, no need to shield your children’s eyes. The only trauma they’re likely to experience is boredom.

Lightning over Lake Michigan

The storm system that has been in the models for the past week produced a fast-moving squall line that blew from Wisconsin across Lake Michigan. Kurt Hulst and I were there on the shore just north of Holland, Michigan, to catch the action.

Kurt is a great lightning photographer. Look for his photos of last night’s storm on his blog.

As for me, I’m a neophyte when it comes to lightning. Shooting at night, the problem I encounter is focus. Unfortunately, most of my shots were too blurred to crop, and since I was shooting wide angle, cropping is essential. However, a couple shots didn’t turn out too badly. The one shown here is the best of the lot. Click on it to enlarge it.

Photo of the Kids

I just finished taking photos of the “kids”–my collection of carnivorous plants. They’re mostly North American pitcher plants, but I do have a very prolific population of Venus flytraps as well. The things reproduce like crazy. Not only are the seeds majorly fertile, but the corms love to divide. Start with one flytrap and in a couple years you’ll have a flytrap village.

Anyway, I have yet to process the rest of the photos to place in my gallery, but I thought I’d give you a little preview. The flytraps have been snarfing down bugs like M&M chocolate covered peanuts, so forgive the fly and hornet exoskeletons. My kids are not very good about brushing their teeth.

Pitcher Plants on the Balcony

It’s getting toward that time of year when I’ll be taking the kids indoors. During the warm months, as far as I’m concerned, they can stay outside all night long, and they do. Pretty soon, though, the nights will get frosty and the kids will get cold. Does that mean I’ll let them in? Heck no. Not right away, anyway. They can darn well stay outside, and without a stitch of clothes on, at that. I’m not about to pamper them. The cold air will do them good before I finally take them inside and shut them in the refrigerator for three months.

Before you report me for child abuse, let me explain that “the kids” are my carnivorous plants, which I keep out on the balcony at my apartment. Presently they are flourishing, still sending up new trap leaves in mid-September. But my white-top pitcher plant, Sarracenia leucophylla, is in the process of rapidly producing its  fall flush of traps, a sure sign that autumn’s triggering mechanism is bringing changes to my little collection. Waning daylight and plummeting temperatures will soon signal the kids to go into hibernation, at which point I will take them out of their pots, wrap them in sphagnum moss, dust them with sulfur, and stick them in the frig for their mandatory rest period.

There will be more of them in the refrigerator this year. The family has grown. Besides several potfuls of Venus flytraps, I now own all eight species of United States pitcher plants. Now I’m working on adding variations, beginning with the addition of Sarracenia rubra var. wherryii, S. flava var. cuprea, and the “maroon throat” variation of S. alata. I’d love at some point to add the rare S. rubra var. jonesii to the collection, but that may be tricky. The variety is cultivated and sold by at least one reputable dealer, but interstate transport may be a problem. Collection from the wild is, of course, out of the question; besides being illegal, the poaching of a rare and endangered species is flat-out reprehensible.

But I digress. Right now, as I was saying, the kids are out on the balcony and loving this warm, moist, misty September weather. My oreophila put out its phyllodia months ago, so it’s got a head-start on hibernation. The rest are, as I have said, still cranking out leaves that seem to be getting only more robust. And I’m really looking forward to the fall show of the leucophylla, which is easily the gaudiest of the Sarracenias.

Yeah, I know–you want pictures. Okay, I’ll post some. But not now. Give me a few days, then look in my photos section under the wildflowers tab. Right now, I just wanted to offer you a diversion from jazz and weather. After all, there’s more to life, and certainly more to my life, which seems to be marked by quirky interests. I’d say the kids qualify for “quirky,” wouldn’t you?