Strange geometry

The sun at the horizon is a strange thing.

It is during these first and last moments above the limb of our slowly rotating planet that its light must travel through the most atmosphere before reaching our skin. The stream of photons is bent and distorted through layers of air--hot and cold, and dense and thin--with the result being some very oddly shaped mirages of our benevolent star. In fact, depending on local conditions, the atmosphere can bend the sun's light so much that it appears to rise as much as several minutes before true sunrise. Called the Novaya Zemlya effect, it is named after the far northern Russian archipelago on which this extreme refraction was first observed.

So when I took this photo, it's possible--even likely--that the real sun had not actually made it above the horizon yet...kinda spooky, eh?

Ok, by now it's certain we're seeing at least a portion of the physical sun--just a fun-house-ified version of itself...it's a hat!

...a birthday cake...





...a hamburger bun...


and...oh my gosh, is that a mushroom cloud?!

Geese in a Row

I'm just about to go into a lesson with Chris Martin (the young, but already legendary principal trumpeter of the Chicago Symphony), and my chops are being a little uncooperative at the moment. It seems like when I have some sort of big deal coming up I can pretty much plan on having stiff lips. Ugh...ain't it just the way?

Anyway, the sunrise was great this morning...

There was a long line of geese floating along in the calm waters. For a while it stretched from as far north as I could see...

...to as far south as I could see.

Alright. I must be heading upstairs. Have a beautiful day!

Two Haiku

Last night it sounded like my neighbor (whom I've never met, but have definitely heard on a regular basis) was assembling some sort of furniture in her apartment. The walls in my building are quite thin and when I got home at 9:00 the hammering, booming music, and excited talking was going full force. It had been a long trying day for me, and I wondered how long the racket was going to continue.

I called Rob for our usual goodnight chat, and tried (a little unsuccessfully, as Rob can attest) to ignore the construction party happening next door. Mercifully, the worst of it let up a little before 10:00 just as Rob and I were saying our goodbyes for the night. I felt relieved that I'd soon be able to drift off to sleep. After such a long day, there are few things I value more than a full 8 hours of blissful repose.

I wasn't out for long before it started again...bang bang bang bang bang bang BANG! I rolled over and looked at my cell phone. 11:14. "Are you kidding me?" I thought. My usual habit in situations like this is to not say anything, but just sit around and stew in my anger; cursing the thoughtless offender and praying that the offending will stop on its own, but I was so completely at the end of my rope last night I didn't even stop to think before I put on my slippers and a robe and stumbled next door to introduce myself to the new resident.

I knocked and a young looking woman came to the door. "Hi, I'm your neighbor," I said in as nice and placating a tone I could muster, "and I have really early mornings...is there any way you could hold off on the hammering tonight?"

"Oh...is it bothering you?" she replied.

"DUUUUUUHHHHH!" I wanted to scream, but instead just looked at her pleadingly and said, "Yeah, it's pretty loud for this late at night."

I was relieved when she was nice about it and said she'd quiet down.

Despite having had a relatively cordial exchange, I went back to my room fully charged with nervous adrenaline. I laid down and tried, to no avail, to get back into a sleepy frame of mind. When I last looked at my phone, I moaned when I saw that it read 12:06.

Sometimes I can lull myself to sleep by imagining myself wandering through a placid landscape...intentionally beginning a dream into which I can later slip seamlessly, without noticing, into unconsciousness. I often transport myself to a warm beach, feel the sand brushing between my toes, the gentle lap of water up around my ankles, and the flushing away of sand from beneath my feet as the waves rush back to sea. Last night I imagined walking toward an Evanston sunrise. Tromping through the dewey grass left my shoes sopping wet and as I climbed the wall of boulders to assume my perch, the idea for a simple haiku came to mind...

Walking through dew drops

once melded into oceans...

An exhale of cloud.

And then I slept.

Needless to say, my alarm this morning felt painfully premature. I pushed snooze a few times and then finally rolled out from underneath my warm covers to begin the day.

I did not feel good.

I wanted to turn on my radio as loud as I could while I showered and breakfasted; hoping to wake my rowdy-night-owl of a neighbor...but I didn't. After all, she was pretty nice about everything when I talked to her, and I guess amiable cooperation is a big part of being a neighbor.

Amazingly, I still made it to the lake for sunrise, and as I continued the rest of the way to Regenstein another little haiku started taking shape behind the rhythm of my walking.

Now comes a jealous

beauty. Bow the eye--lest she

blind you to all others.

Beautiful Arachnids

I'm feeling exceedingly tired and stressed tonight, so I thought I'd take a break for a minute and dig back into my photos from this summer in Ithaca. There are some really great spider portraits I never got around to posting, and these beauties deserve to be seen.

This is a common variety of orb weaver that Rob and I ran into (almost literally) one night while strolling along a river that runs near Cinemopolis--an independent movie theater in downtown Ithaca.

Around a single large street lamp were clustered dozens of these plump predators, each stoically perched in the center of a beautifully constructed circular web.

We had discovered what must have been considered prime spider real estate. As mosquitos, flies, and moths buzzed frantically around the glowing lamplight, these eight legged denizens of the shadows had only to sit patiently until one, or two, or ten of the hapless insects landed in their silken traps.

Below is another species of orb weaver that is commonly found in Madagascar. And yes, that is a BIRD it's eating...eeek!!!

Now, before you become too disturbed, consider that silk from 1 million of these amazing creatures was extracted by hand (how would you like that job!?) and woven into a spectacular golden tapestry (yes, that is the natural color of their silk) that is now housed at the Museum of Natural History in New York City.

Planes

Today I got up well before the sun and hurried down to one of my favorite sunrise viewing spots. The morning sky was clear and crisp; a rainbow wash of color already signaling the coming dawn. When I arrived at the shore however, and could finally see all the way down to the horizon, I was disgusted to discover that my perfect sunrise would be spoiled by a mess of criss-crossing contrails clustered right above the spot the sun would make its first appearance.

I tried taking a few shots zoomed in far enough to eliminate the disruptive white lines; relishing the gleam of the water as it reflected the slowly brightening sky...

...but finally gave up and decided I would instead make lemonade from lemons. I tried to highlight the contrails' geometry and incorporate it into the form of my photos. I guess it worked out ok...

A Beautiful Day

I'm sure you've all noticed by now that my blog about Lake Michigan's exceptionally high waves has been corroborated by many other sources. And if you somehow missed the video of bikers/walkers getting slammed by those waves, you must check it out here.

Today however, the wind had died down to little more than a chilly breeze, the sun was back out in full force, and lake water lapped placidly against the shore as if its previous ferocity had been nothing but a bad dream...

It was a good day for picnicking on sweet nectar...

...contemplating the prospects of picnicking on something a bit less...well, sweet...

...working the kinks out of your feathers...

...or just basking in the sunshine. This young cormorant stood with wings outstretched for a couple relaxing minutes just soaking up the rays...

Unfortunately, I had too much on my plate to enjoy any such extended reveries and spent most of my time doing research for my ethnomusicology midterm. I'm studying the life and work of Mantle Hood, one of the 20th century's pioneers in the field. One highlight today was watching a video he made documenting the "talking drums," or Atumpan, of Ghana. I checked it out on vhs (how utterly primitive!) and watched it at a little private viewing station in the Mitchell Multi-media Center. Despite all the work, I feel lucky to have access to the treasure trove of information available at the NU library. I'll definitely miss it when I graduate.

October

Current temp: 47...not including the substantial wind chill.

What am I whining for? In a couple months we could very well have wind chills of 4o below! Ugh. I have to keep telling myself, "It's ok...just think about all the pretty ice...you LOVE the ice...right?"

Lake Michigan Today

Today's forecast for Lake Michigan in my area:

"Northwest gales to 40 kt becoming north. Slight chance of showers. Waves 12 to 16 feet."

Kt stands for knots. One knot is about 1.15 mph so we've got gusting today up around 46 mph! Ever since I arrived in Evanston over a year ago I've been wanting to see one of these monster 15 foot waves I hear about every once in a while. When I walked right down to the sandy shore, the stature of the breakers had diminished enough so that they might just make it over the top of a seagull...

...but when I got to Regenstein and assumed one of my usual posts atop the large seawall that borders the music building's parking lot, the situation changed.

I'm estimating that the wall's height above the water level is about 10 feet. On a day like today when waves are rolling into shore, they hit the seawall and rebound back toward the center of the lake. When these east-bound waves encounter the barrage of oncoming west-bound waves it can create a veritable explosion of water. There were waves I saw today whose combined energy shot plumes of heavy gray water straight up into the air and peaked above my eye level from on top of the sea wall. I'm 5' 7" so if the sea wall is indeed about 10 feet above surface level...that's a pretty monster wave!

It's pretty dang hard to time photos properly in order to capture moments like that (especially when there is a delay between the time you push the button and the time the shutter opens...like on my camera), so I missed the biggest explosions, but here's a medium size one to give you some idea of what I saw this morning...

One brief news update before I sign off: Ein Heldenleben went great yesterday!