December 27, 2008

A marvelous creation.

Posted in blogging, photography tagged , , , , , , at 8:05 pm by czygyny

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I make it no secret that I love mud puddles.  My first encounter with a mud puddle as a toddler was a vain attempt to bring the frozen icy tops deftly removed from the puddles outside, inside the house and keep them for later fun. I carefully wrapped them in a blanket and placed them under my little bed. But, alas to my grief they melted into a sad puddle that oozed out onto the hardwood floor. My three year old brain couldn’t understand that ice melts. 

I still can find lots of interest in a good puddle;  watching the moon reflect off its mirror surface  in the evenings, watching the swirls of milk chocolate mud swirl and mix with the clear water like a miniature weather front when a dog paw stirs the waters, watch the tiny daphnia spin and dance in the clear water of some special puddles–a whole microcosm in a pool, or tickle your eyes with the geometric shapes and curls of consolidated, dried mud.

Most of all, the greatest fun in a mud puddle comes after a night of icy transfomation. Whether it is a solid sheet with little bubbles frozen in the middle and a leaf stuck tight, or like this tiny puddle— crazy, beautiful, creative shapes and textures, all contained in no more than a few inches of crystalline H2O.  

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Above is a star burst of icy beauty. Our temperature dropped to a chilly 23° that night!

Look at the close up, below, of the thin ice formations I believe area called ‘dendrites’. They were no more than about 1/2 inch long!

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This puddle was no more than seven inches across, and the icy display melted as the morning sun topped the trees. Today, they are all dry.

What fleeting beauty, what a marvelous creation—water. 

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December 8, 2008

Spectacular winter sunset.

Posted in blogging, photography tagged , , , , at 8:14 pm by czygyny

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Most people love sunsets. There is just something awe inspiring about watching the procession of colors, contrasts and textures as the day slowly fades. When everything comes together, cloud, sky and sun, the results can be dramatic. Thus it was so Sunday, December 7,  2008.

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I love a good show of altostratus undulatus any time of day. Fall and spring seem to bring the best displays. Now, most of you wouldn’t know your altostratus from cirrus uncius, and most of you probably don’t try to categorize the colors into a painter’s pallet, or stalk around your property with a bulky camera in hand, but I bet you do stand in awe as the show begins its crescendo, exploding across the skies like a giant fireworks, then darken and pale. The cool blues and greys and tans flowed into hot, firey orange in sharply stippled patterns, then muted to a darkening red-coal smolder and on into a frosty, star-glittered night.

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May this holiday season be a comfort inasmuch as we are in an uncomfortable time and uncertain future. This is always a tough time of year-cold, dark winter. Be thankful for your modern blessings; lights in abundance, heat at the touch of a switch, fresh healthful foods,  ease of communication. Having read  of how folks lived generations ago I have come to the realization that winter used to be a very difficult time to endure. We have blunted its scouring force with many wonderful things. Being the ever-anxious conspiracy nut, I wonder if this winter might be one to be very thankful for, the one to measure against in the times ahead, one in which to reminisce.  Maybe it is just the darkness and cold creeping into the mind and aging bones.