Month: August 2018

A Time to Nap

I recently read several articles based on a question posed on Twitter, “How long is a nap?” The articles quoted various sources and spoke to why and when to nap. According to the Mayo Clinic there are many benefits to a nap, including; relaxation, reduced fatigue, increased alertness, improved mood, and improved performance.

But I want to ponder where to nap – and specifically napping out of doors. Having a nap in the out of doors is great, but there are precautions to be taken. And always expect the unexpected.

Napping on a hammock or in a lounge chair in your own back yard is always a joy. But sometimes the ground beckons, and lying in the grass is just fine. But what should you do to prevent regretting napping on the ground? Use a good bug spray. Pick your spot. Don’t lie down in leaf matter enjoyed by chiggers or in tall grass which often abounds with ticks. And mosquitoes as you well know can make an airborne assault. Using a blanket or a nice-sized towel can help. But don’t forget the bug spray.

And when to nap? Sometimes I say do the chores first, and the outdoor nap is a reward. Other times? Well I believe that a nap before the task will help me understand the task better. Let’s say if I need to cut the grass. What better than to lie in the grass and consider its texture and its height? To feel it on my skin. To understand its nature and purpose.

If I am lying on the grass I can consider the magnificent life that abounds on the ground. The ants and spiders, and beetles, and resting lightening bugs, mosquitoes, chiggers, ticks. What!? Yes, beware. There are tiny critters on the ground and in the air that can make you itch and may make you sick.

There is also a choice of sun or shade. Both can be enjoyable. However, napping in full sun can be a real problem during the time of year when the sun’s rays are most direct. Wear sun screen especially during the late Spring, Summer, and early Fall. It may not be needed as much in late Fall, Winter, and early Spring. In any season a nap in the sun can be a real delight. I remember stretching out on rocks on the coast of Rhode Island in early May as an excellent nap. I even found a bit of a depression in the stone as some shelter from the wind. Sometimes in the cooler times of year I might have wrapped myself in a blanket, but in this case the rocks had been warmed by the sun. It was great.

And yet often the shade is the place to be. On a hot summer day after working in the sun, a nap in the shade can feel as refreshing as a dip in the ocean. I recall on particularly hot day in Virginia lying in the shade of a huge old sycamore tree and watching the blue sky and white clouds pass overhead above the welcoming, thick canopy of leaves that shaded me. The stiff grass prickled but did not deter me from my rest. Or perhaps after lunch in a hammock under the shade of a fruit tree. I have had many a great rest there.

Resting in the shade away from the glare of the sun has been a favorite study of many artists. Picasso’s sleeping peasants hiding from the noon-day sun (top) and Van Gogh’s La Siesta (bottom) are two that capture the benefit of a mid-day respite to escape the heat, perhaps after a tryst or after a long morning’s work.

 

When I am on the trail, I prefer lying on rocks in the sun if they are available. There are too many crawling and creeping critters in the leaf matter of the forest floor or at the base of an inviting tree. In those cases a blanket is advisable. And when you get up, check yourself for tiny attackers that may have attached themselves. I have seen ticks take a walk across a tarp to find a tasty snack.  But on a cool day in winter, when the weak winter sun flows down through the open canopy, the base of that inviting tree is a great place to sit and lean back and enjoy the view – until you doze off.

Remember though, in all things out doors know where you are and who or what is around. This goes for insects, raccoons, dogs, cats big and small, and of course other people.

And now we come to expecting the unexpected. Have I ever been caught off guard while napping out of doors? Not by anything other than time as I let it slip away while I had my eyes closed. But have I ever caught someone else? Well, yes. This one instance serves as a good example. It was a bright day in mid-Fall, and since there had been several night-time frosts I was not overly concerned with ticks. I ranged across the open fields of tall grass in one of my favorite places. I knew there were a couple of people out with me as there were two other cars in the parking area. I was able to see a quarter mile in all directions out in the open. I could see no one. I was cutting right through the middle of a field to one of the old farm ponds when suddenly out of the grass about 10 yards in front of me a young lady pops up.

When walking in the open field I often sing, so I am not surprised that she heard me coming. But to say the least I was unexpected! And to not further disturb her I changed my route and walked off in a new direction – singing – and chuckling.

And now it’s my turn. Ahhhhh! I lower myself and stretch. My eyes are already closed, and I am in anticipation of a wonderful brief rest. And I know when I wake up I’ll have things to do, but I know that I’ll feel better while doing them.

So, always know where you are. Always know who and what’s around. And enjoy a nap in the wonderful out of doors.

Little Orphan Annie art work is by Harold Gray – Annie lies under a tree as Sandy is opening a bee hive. Unaware, Annie says, “Gee, I feel sleepy – I wish something exciting would happen to wake me up – “

The Big Toss

 

I think that we have all done it, boys and girls alike. Maybe it starts with tossing pine cones at a tree. Or maybe by tossing a rock or ball into the air to see if you can hit it with a handy stick. This game often changes into one of, “How high can I throw this ball?” And then it becomes, “Can I throw it so high that it won’t come down?” To our vast disappointment, no. It always comes back down. And it always will thanks to gravity (g). No matter how much force (F) we put into it, no matter how hard we throw it, it always comes down.

A recent NASA/AP article published in the online Herald out of Rock Hill, SC provided a picture of Russian astronaut Sergey Prokopyev flinging a small satellite into orbit from outside the International Space Station (ISS). The ISS is itself in orbit around the Earth at a velocity of about 5 miles per second. Sergey’s sturdy “fling” (the word used to describe the launch) imparted additional velocity (V) to the satellite as it traveled away from the ISS.

The satellite is …. – wait! What is the satellite for? That information is hard to find; I will keep looking for it. But the interesting part of the NASA/AP release (no pun intended) is the novel approach to the satellite launch. When I think of a satellite launch I picture massive engines belching fire and towering rockets boosting bus-size devices to be hurled into space. In the time since satellites were first launched in the 1960’s, improvements in technology have allowed satellites to shrink so that now there is a distinct class of satellites that go by various names such as cube-sats, mini-sats, and nano-satellites. NASA Ames Research Center (ARC) has been working to guide the development of this area of space science over the last decade or more, and since 2016 ARC has hosted the Small Spacecraft Systems Virtual Institute (S3VI). The S3VI provides information on the state of the art of small space craft technology which includes nano-satellites and other space craft weighing less than 180 kg (up to about 400 pounds).  The larger satellites at the higher end of this scale dwarf the nano-satellites such as the tissue-box size Sirius recently launched from the ISS. All these “small” satellites still need to be carried above the Earth’s atmosphere by some rocket, but for these Sirius satellites I find their final launch/release quite amazing.

The Sirius “nano” satellite is described in the NASA/AP article as being about the size of box of tissues. “Nano” means one-billionth of a unit, but in this case it is used as a word for tiny or diminutive. The satellite is small enough to be held by one hand. According to the NASA released video (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=APko4n4H8fc) it has a handle to make it easier to hold and launch.

“OK Sergey, you are a ‘Go’.” says the director. “Hold it by the handle and just deploy it.” And with that Astronaut Prokopyev achieves the dream of every child that has ever tossed a ball into the air; it does not come down. Of course it will eventually come down as gravity (g) plays its ruthless role and overcomes the imparted forces of the velocity (V) of the ISS and the force (F) of Sergey’s “fling”. Eventually gravity will tug the little satellite down into Earth’s atmosphere where it will burn up on re-entry.

But if Sergey was five years old and continued to look up after he had tossed the nano-sat, he would be excited to see the small, gleaming satellite continually traveling away from him until it disappeared from sight.

How thrilling to feel that you have won against gravity.

The picture is based on a Charles Schultz drawing of the ”Peanuts” character Charlie Brown. I know we all wish Charlie Brown the best of luck in hitting the big toss.

Watch for my article reporting back on what the satellite is for. Perhaps we will use a sling shot next time. Why not?

A Comet – Maybe

It is my habit to go outside in the night. I enjoy the night. It is generally cooler. It is quieter as the sounds of the day are gone. But the sounds of the night can be magnified so that the rustle of leaves being blown by the wind can sound like a distant charge of cavalry.

And at night the stars are out.

I remember when my father would take me outside and show me the Milky Way. He taught me to recognize the Great Bear and Orion. He introduced me to the stars of the night; Polaris, Vega, Deneb, Betelgeuse. That was seventy years ago. There were fewer people living in the rural areas. There were fewer lights, and the clarity of the night sky was such that can hardly be imagined now. But Orion and the Great Bear and others – Scorpio, Pegasus, and Cygnus – were as friends who returned with the passing years. I would go outside on a Summer night or in the cold of Winter to look up. I have had a series of small telescopes, but I prefer just to gaze and to recognize and to remember the stories my father told me while these stars shown overhead. I would stay outside and watch for shooting stars and satellites. I would seek dark places to watch meteor showers. I built simple mechanisms that allowed me to track stars for night photography.

And I would seek out comets. I camped out on islands that I had to reach in my kayak to see Halley’s Comet. I even took a reasonably good picture of Halley’s using my homemade tracker with a medium lens mounted on my camera. I went to the mountains to look for some of the comets of the last half century. I would marvel at the photographs others had taken.

But what I enjoy is to sit outside late at night and look up. I am easily thrilled by a passing satellite –  or the International Space Station. I have seen numerous meteors spark into life and disappear. But in the back of my mind I always wondered if I would be the first to see a new comet. Why not? Many new comets are found by amateur astronomers. I just need to look in the right place at the right time.

And maybe I have!

Three nights ago I was out sitting in my “gazing” chair and using my binoculars to pick out some of my favorite stars. I was also looking for a particular Messier object that seemed to allude me. So I decided to look at some of the double stars that are often part of the constellations. Then I saw a fuzzy object and wondered what it was. When I went inside I looked for it on a star chart and could not find it. I decided to look for it again the following night. On the second night the object was still in the general area where I had seen it the night before – but perhaps slightly beyond where I thought it was.  Today I looked for it in my detailed star charts and saw no object in that place. I went on-line and asked if a comet had been reported in that area. No comet had been reported.

So I reported it.

The Sky and Telescope site gave me direction on how to determine if there is a possibility that it is a comet. The site also gave information on reporting it to the Harvard Central Bureau for Astronomical Telegrams (CBAT). I estimated the right ascension and the declination from my star charts. I described it – and I think “fuzzy” is the universal term for describing a comet. I translated the viewing time into Universal Time (UT). And I sent in my report.

Now I will wait, and I will go outside later tonight to see if I can find it again.

Haying Season

It’s haying time. But I am only an observer. Others work hard in the field to harvest the sweet grasses and the late summer flowers into large, round bales for winter livestock.

All summer I have walked the paths in the fields. The grass has grown up alongside and flowers have blossomed and faded. The meadow larks rise and fall into the depths of the grass as they lure me away from their nest. The red-winged black birds hold onto the tall, stiff reeds of grasses and bob with the wind, watching me as I pass through their domain.

But now the grass is ready to be cut. The bugs will fly up, and the birds will fly down to catch them. The young birds have fledged and are able to take part in the feast. But they will return to a strange earth cut from a sea of waving stems to a crackling stubble.

This is not a bleak picture but a picture of a cycle that has interwoven the grass, the farmer, and the meadow lark and the other birds that live in the grassy fields. It’s late summer, and it’s time to cut the grass.

Last winter I was flying into Dulles airport returning from a job in California. I looked out onto the rolling hills of piedmont Virginia where the fields rise slowly up to meet the Blue Ridge Mountains. There was a dusting of snow over the landscape. Something caught my eye which I had not seen before. In several places dotted on the landscape below were large brown stars on the fields. There was a mixture of designs. Some stars had six arms radiating from a central point. Others had four or five arms. They were all somewhat symmetrical. But what were they? I could see that each star radiated from the crest of a small hill with the arms of the stars reaching out and down the hill. From my perspective of several thousand feet in the air each arm may have been up to 100 feet long.  The arms were brown and textured and in some places the snow showed through.

“There’s another one,” I said to myself. Looking further out I could see others as they came into the view of the descending plane.  Soon though, the open fields and winter wood lots gave way to suburbs with their tangle of roads and snow dusted roofs.

What I was seeing was the result of haying. The large round hay bales had been taken to the top of small hills and rolled outward to form the stars. The hay was now available to the livestock. Perhaps it was hay cut the year before from the fields I was gazing at now.

The grasses in these fields are harvested under a hay lease from the National Park of which the fields I walk in are a part. The farmer pays the Park Service for the right to harvest the hay which they then use or sell. The funds help support this park and other parks in the national system. And the haying keeps the historic vistas open. It is also part of the centuries old cycle of the ground and the grass and the bird and the farmer. I am a witness to the covenant between man and nature. We care for the Earth and nature, and it supports us in its growth and regrowth.

Robert Frost in his poem Mowing speaks for the scythe whispering to the grass. What secret do they share? It is the secret of the covenant. It is the tale of the blade returning to the grass each year and the rejuvenation of the grass to receive it. It is a promise to return year after year to the haying. And to whisper.

This excellent video tells of the hard work of the haying covenant between the farmer and the Earth.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xwl-YLvru1s

The art work is based on a screen shot from the referenced video.

Robert Frost’s poem Mowing may be found at the Poetry Foundation site at – https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/53001/mowing-56d231eca88cd

An Acorn in my Hand

When I walked outside this morning it was warm and humid but there was promise of change in the air. It is August, and we are well into summer so the temperature and the humidity were not a surprise. But I realized in my first few steps into the day that a change was coming. It was not as bright. The sun had not yet come up. The days are growing shorter. Soon we will have darker mornings and cooler nights. Then the moisture will slip away and we will enter Fall and Winter. There will be no more long, balmy days. But it will be a great time to go outside into the dark and to marvel at creation.

Any day or any hour we can look around and see creation all about us. Yet for me to look up at the clear night sky and see the stars and distant galaxies is always the most fantastic of moments. In the current summer nights Arcturus and Vega rule the night sky. The Summer Triangle of Vega together with the bright stars Altair and Deneb is clearly visible even on less than pristine nights. As we approach Fall, Orion with its brilliant display will rise in the night sky.

Each of these stars and the hundreds of billions of stars in each of the visible galaxies are part of the vastness of creation. Each of them – which we see as points of light of varying brightness – was born out of a cataclysmic explosion and a whirling vortex of hot gasses which coalesced to form stars, galaxies, and for us, our planet, Earth. This is not to imply that ours is the only planet. We know we reside in our star’s system with eight other planets (I am including Pluto) and a myriad of asteroids and comets and minor planets. And beyond the Solar system we have discovered there are a multitude of other stars with planets circling them. All of these are part of the vastness of creation. But we are on this one, and that makes it the most important planet in the universe for us. We are part of it. It is our home. It coalesced from the cosmic dust, and so did we.

When I lie down on the grass under a night sky full of stars I can marvel at creation. I look up and let my mind be swept away to amazing and far distant places. I wonder how we will get to there. Will we be able to wander across other worlds? I know that we will someday make that journey, and I am a little sad that I will not be on that ship. I am sure we will find unknown marvels in the vastness of creation.

I stand up from gazing at the stars and look around me. I see the forms of grass waving around my legs and the outline of trees in the darkness. I walk over to an oak tree, and I bend down and pick up a fallen acorn. I hold it up and study it and realize that inside this acorn are packed all the marvels of the universe, the galaxies, our solar system, and this Earth, our home.

8 BILLION !! What are YOU doing?

By the time we reach the next quarter century World Population will reach 8 BILLION people.

This is a troubling number as each one of us will need food and shelter and health care and should have the opportunity to lead a productive and happy life.

But will we all have that opportunity?

It’s up to YOU!

What are you doing to prepare the world for 8 BILLION? What are you doing to help each man, woman, and child to be fed and sheltered and cared for? What are you doing to help each individual have a life in which they have the opportunity to help their community and to feel the joy of knowing they are contributing to the benefit of others.

During the Renaissance, during the Age of Discovery, during the Reformation, when the French Revolution was taking place, there were less than 1 Billion people on Earth.

But with the industrial revolution and the concurrent increases in the knowledge of science and healthy living conditions more people were being born – and living to be older than in the generations before them. 200 years ago the world population was only 1 Billion. The world passed the 2 Billion mark only about 100 years ago. But by the turn of the century in the year 2000 we nearly TRIPLED that number and we soon passed the 6 Billion mark. Population growth has slowed. But we are still increasing, and by the year 2025 we will reach a world population of 8 BILLION people! And the population will continue to grow from there. Projections of population growth are that by mid-century, in the year 2050, world population will increase by another Billion and we will surpass 9 Billion people on our world.

The increase from 1 Billion to 2 Billion, a doubling, took 100 years. To get from 2 Billion to 9 Billion, more than four times the number, will take less than 200 years. The projections for population increase over the 25 years between 2025 and 2050 are that we will add more than 1 Billion people by mid-century. The 1 Billion increase that took over 100 years to achieve after 1800 will take less than 25 years.

Ask the internet. Ask your neighbors. Ask people where you work. Ask your Government. Ask your church. What can we do – what can I do – so we will be ready?

This is a question for all of us – for you and for me. How am I preparing to help the world at 8 BILLION? And then 9 Billion!

Each of us should rejoice in the Earth. Each of us should go out and experience the world, nature, wild life, birds, crawling things, all of it, including our fellow human-beings.

When we stand in a park or in the woods or next to a flowing stream or pause beside a field of wheat or a bed of sun flowers, we should marvel at it and we should also ask ourselves, “What can I do to preserve and prepare the Earth for all my new neighbors?”

And then act!

 

The picture of the child is based on a photograph at wallpaperbetter.com.

Quail and Sparrow

I submitted my siting to the online bird database. The first thing they told me – and I expected them to tell me this – was that I likely did not see what I told them I saw.  But that’s ok, the data managers’ responsibility is to ensure the data submitted makes sense.

What I had seen was a black bellied whistling duck (BBWD). But I knew the bird was way out of its normal neighborhood. The BBWD is a bird of Florida and southeast Texas and up the Mississippi River as far as Tennessee. The map of its range can be seen on the black bellied whistling duck page of the terrific, on-line Cornell guide to birds. But it is not seen in a creek in the hills of Virginia. But that’s where I saw him, or rather them. Three BBWD standing in a creek on those long, very unduck-like legs with their long necks held high.

They looked quite at home in this lowland stream. And I was very much at home in the outdoors walking these woodland paths. I had not seen one of these long-legged ducks before, but I knew them from pictures. I was certain they were not geese. But I was surprised to see them there minding their business while I minded mine. As I watched them they flew off to some other more private stream. I imagine that they were heading back to a location that they are more use to. I watched them until they disappeared through the trees. I stood and continued to watch and listen in case they circled back. They did not.

What is it about birds that has the capability to enrapture us?

I think it’s because they make themselves available to us. They fly overhead. They will sit in a bush – perhaps hidden – and sing to us and to all of creation. They have the capability to remind us of the life and the beauty that is abundant in this world. And knowing this, they also remind us of our responsibility to enjoy and protect them, and to protect areas in which they can live so that they come back year in and year out to nest and sing and give new life and joy. The appearance of a certain bird may be a harbinger of spring. Or it may be an indication of a change in the weather, as gulls flocking inland may be warning of a storm. Their morning songs bring up the sun. And their last flights of evening bring the return to the nest and the calm of the night.

There are two birds in which I am currently interested as a volunteer citizen-scientist for a national park. I help with the park’s bird observation and management programs. It’s great. I have a reason to be out in the woods and the open fields. And it takes me out for the sunrise and into the new day that follows. I often hike to my listening stations in the pre-dawn darkness. It takes me out in the Spring and in the Fall and my task is – to listen to the birds sing.

I listen for the gentle call of the Northern Bobwhite Quail and the often hidden and reclusive Henslow’s Sparrow, a little bird of the open fields. The surveys each bird are repeated in selected areas along specific transects with established stations. It requires standing still and listening; it requires patience. Often I do not hear the quail whether it be the well-know “bob-white” call or the more muted nesting calls that might be heard. Nor do I often hear the Henslow’s Sparrow the thin, reedy notes that might rise and fall in the tall grass. But that’s all part of being outside. The birds are allowing me to share their home. I come with respect and quietness.  And I am rewarded, if not by the song of my subject bird, by the call of all their feathered partners of the woods and fields.

Listening and surveying for these birds is part of an overall program to determine the health of the local environment and its ability to support these birds and birds similar to them. If the birds are present it means that they have an adequate food supply and have a place to perch, or hide, or loaf. I love that term and often picture the quail loafing around their nesting area. However, absence of these birds indicates that they and other birds may not find the food or cover or level of calmness that they like in order to take up and maintain residence in the area. As noted above we have a responsibility to ensure that we maintain and conserve areas where wildlife may thrive and we can go and loaf ourselves.

And the Whistling Ducks, they are welcome to come back anytime, but I agree with the purveyors of protocol on the bird site. This is not a normal occurrence, but it is the normal and the not-normal that continue to draw me outside to enjoy the birds, and the woods, streams and open fields.

Halcyon!

Picture is taken from Jules Breton’s painting “The Song of the Lark” from the collection of the Art Institute of Chicago.