Snow Perspective

 

Changing your vantage point can make all the difference in the world. It's true for photos. And it's true for life itself.

As the snow started falling near dusk on January 8, I took several photos from both my front and back doors. The photos were pretty. But I kept looking at the wires, draped from the windmill to the house, and wishing they weren't there. (OK, if I'd really thought that through, I would be mighty thankful for those wires. Electricity is a wonderful thing.)

So, I shifted my lens to the north, trying to avoid the lines. Mission accomplished ... except that the yard light couldn't illuminate the swing the way I'd hoped. So I put on my shoes and I shifted my perspective. That change of vantage point yielded my favorite shot of our January 8-9 snowstorm.  It also made my sweatshirt and shoes wet, but they dried off.

 

I didn't really think about it at the time, but there's a lesson there for life, too. We get "stuck," looking at people and situations in the same old way - at least, I can do that. Sometimes, we need to shift our perspective to see those same things differently. 

That lesson was further illuminated - so to speak - when I compared snow photos I'd taken on a gloomy January morning - January 5 - and photos taken in the morning of January 9 after the sun started shining. Those sunless shots seemed almost blue. But, with the sun shining, there was less "flatness" and more dimension. At that point, I couldn't get down our road for a re-do of the shots. The January 8-9 snow and accompanying wind left behind plenty of drifts. 

But that didn't keep me from wandering our farmyard. Thankfully, I didn't step out of my boots, though it was close a time or two.

 I decided to take my dusk scene in the sunlight ... different perspective, yet again!

 

We have windbreaks on all sides of our house. But the wind-driven snow still made drifts on the trees and bushes, as well as the driveways.

 

It took me awhile to warm up after my snow excursion.

But the temperatures then entered the deep-freeze zone. It may start to get better tomorrow.

Hmmm ... I guess we're back to that perspective thing again.

Life is like a landscape. You live in the midst of it but can describe it only from the vantage point of distance.

Charles Lindbergh

 

"I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields that it kisses them so gently? Then it covers them up snug, you know, like a white quilt. And perhaps it says, 'Go to sleep, darlings, until the summer comes again.' "

Lewis Carroll

"Snow ... blots and softens the top of every object like ice on a plum pudding. Hedges, telegraph wires, cars, postboxes, recycling bins. The world is losing its edges. Look upwards and it seems as if the stars themselves are being poured from the sky and turn out not to be vast and fiery globes after all but tiny, frozen things which melt in the palm of your hand."

Mark Haddon

 

And speaking of perspective ... These photos are pretty. But the wind chills that have put Kansas in the deep freeze are UGLY. I have not missed having to spend my mornings in a feed truck during these multiple days of sub-zero wind chills. (That truck never really warmed up.) I've thought a lot about the people who have been caring for livestock, fixing utility lines and doing other outside work in these frigid temperatures. 

I'm also thankful for the people who spent time in our cold attic, replacing a water pipe! Unfortunately, our old farmhouse pipes fell victim to the cold. We are thankful for the prompt and attentive service of a local business - Meyer Electrical in Stafford. Pipes to our upstairs bathroom sink burst Sunday night. Thankfully, we were still up and heard the water dripping from upstairs and through the dining room ceiling, splashing through the chandelier. We knew there was nothing they could do then, but Randy called Meyer's answering service to get on the list for first thing Monday morning. But, soon after, Jake Meyer called us back to check on us - even though it was after 11 PM. Randy reiterated that he had turned off the water to the house and that there was nothing Jake could do. We kept mopping up water and listening to it drip into the tin pans I'd placed under the chandelier. And, true to their word, Meyer Electric was out to make the repairs first thing Monday morning. 

These photos are dark, but I didn't turn on the light. You know, electricity and water don't mix!

 Thank you, Meyer Electric! We appreciate you!

 

Leftovers from the Camera Roll

 

I think leftovers get a bad reputation. I, for one, like leftovers. It means that dinner is ready in no time. 

Leftovers are also good on the camera roll, especially when you are contemplating what to write for a blog post. On December 21, our area was blanketed with heavy fog. Unfortunately for drivers, the moisture turned some roadways and overpasses into a skating rink. But it was a bonanza for amateur photographers like me.

Randy and I braved the dropping temperatures to capture the beauty. However, that was the same day Jill and family arrived a day early for the Christmas holidays - again, thanks to the worsening weather. So the snapshots never made it into a blog post or even onto a "What's on your mind?" post on Facebook.

They were too pretty just to gather figurative dust on the camera roll until I'm looking for photos for my 2024 family/farm calendar.

Thankfully, our electric lines stayed up and the electric fence kept the cattle corralled. 

 

Since Jill and company got here safely, I can still appreciate the beauty of that cold afternoon.

December's wintry breath is already clouding the pond, frosting the pane, obscuring summer's memory.
John Geddes A Familiar Rain

Feathered with hoar frost, skeletal trees loom closer; fog shrouded arches.

Paul Brown

***

On Monday and Tuesday, Randy and I had our first two trips to the Stafford County Golf Course in 2023. It was unseasonably warm for January.

 

He got to use his new driver - a Christmas present from me - topped off with the new cover from Brent and Susan. Go 'Cats! (Brent worked at Morehead State in his first job out of grad school. The sweatshirt is still in the wardrobe. We were Morehead Eagles "on the side" for awhile.)

As is our custom, he golfed. I read my book. (I laughed out loud several times, but I promise I didn't mess up my golfer's drives or putting with my mirth.)

It was unseasonably warm on Monday and Tuesday. Then, on Wednesday into this morning, we were supposed to get a little snow overnight. It didn't happen here, but it is definitely cold, windy and overcast.

Winter weather in Kansas is schizophrenic!

Goodbye Winter, Hello Spring!

Winter left quietly on Tuesday night. The sky was not a vibrant kaleidoscope of color. Though at times, our winter season roared with wind, snow and rain, winter bid adieu unobtrusively. There was a slight, biting breeze, but it was more a wave goodbye than a hearty shout as it departed for another year.

Our roads still bear the mark of a wet fall and winter, and the waning rays of sunshine reflected in the stagnant water in the road by my sunrise tree. This time, I traveled beyond the tree and gazed toward the west. The sunrise tree witnessed the daylight's end and winter's surrender.

Toward the east, a moon rose above wispy clouds. I wish my camera could have captured its size and brilliance, even in the light of dusk.

Thirty minutes later, the light was bleeding from the sky, like a patient on one of the TV medical shows I like to watch. Winter was taking its last gasp. The power poles seemingly marched their way to the horizon as the sun gave up its hold for another day.

Goodbye, winter!

And, 12 hours later, it was hello spring!

 

 On Wednesday, the sunrise tree again stood vigil as pink tinged the blue of night.

At the silo, the calves and their mamas said hello to the first day of spring.

Without full sunshine and the warmth of the day, the calves weren't yet ready to romp and play. They were more curious about a pajama-clad human standing by the fence, I suppose.

At first, I thought the low-riding clouds would obscure our first spring sunrise. But the sun broke through, bringing a promise of a new day ... and a new season.

Gardeners and farmers alike turn the page from winter and spring with great anticipation. Their fingers practically itch to touch the soil and begin planting seeds. And that's what my farmer did on Wednesday. He planted oats. (More on that later.)

Despite the calendar, will winter have a final hurrah? Like that patient on the TV medical show, will it refuse to take its last breath and make a recovery, sending another snow or plummeting temperatures? Time will tell. For now, we celebrate spring's homecoming.

Not Fit for Man Nor Beast

Sunday morning was "not fit for man nor beast," as the old saying goes.

Well, it may not have been fit for man, but it was perfect for dogs ... sundogs, that is!

Randy went out to check cattle Sunday morning. Wind chills were well below zero and the 3 inches of snow that fell overnight were swirling and creating ice darts on exposed skin. But when he saw that the eastern sky had sundogs, he called and asked if I wanted to bundle up and come, too.

Sometimes, weather phenomena are over and done before you can tell someone else about them. But Sunday morning's unusual sky lasted for awhile.

I later turned to the internet to learn more:

A sundog is a concentrated patch of sunlight occasionally seen about 22° to the left or right of the Sun. Sundogs often form in pairs on either side of our daytime star when sunlight refracts through icy clouds containing hexagonal plate crystals aligned with their large, flat faces parallel to the ground. Technically known as parhelia (singular parhelion) they are often white but sometimes quite colorful, looking like detached pieces of rainbow, with red on the inside, toward the Sun, and blue on the outside.

From Sky and Telescope

OK. That was a mouthful.
Let's see what The Old Farmer's Almanac says.
This old farmer thought it was easier to understand.

Sun dogs, or parhelia, are the canine cousins of rainbows. Sometimes they look like bright pieces of rainbows on either side of the sun. Other times they are brighter and actually look like two extra suns. Indeed, they are frequently called “mock suns” or “phantom suns”. The most common name, however, for these bright lights that faithfully follow the sun is sun dogs.

Both rainbows and sundogs are formed by moisture filtering the sunlight. Rainbows form when drops of rain act as prisms, breaking sunlight into a multitude of colors. Sundogs appear when sunlight hits clouds of ice crystals and the ice acts as prisms.

Old Farmer's Almanac

There are some differences. You see rainbows when you look away from the sun. You see sundogs when you look toward the sun. And that shuts down the camera lens, making it hard to capture a photo. But I did my best.

From HyperPhysics, C.R. Nave Georgia State University

In medieval times, the three bright lights were sometimes interpreted as the sign of the trinity, a sign of great fortune. Nowadays, they are a sign that you were lucky to be looking at the sky at just the right time.  

James Garriss, Old Farmer's Almanac

I love a writer with a sense of humor! But since church got canceled due to the extreme wind chills and drifting snow, a reminder of the Trinity was a good idea, too, though I am frequently reminded of God's handiwork when outside in His creation ... even when it's way too cold!

After our sundog viewing, I went along for the ride for the cattle checks.

This baby had a rather unorthodox way to dine. (I wouldn't recommend positioning there, but I guess warm milk trumped practicality.)

Our cattle all have northern windbreaks, and they put them to good use. It's amazing to me that they know instinctively to gather for protection from the elements.

Before the snow started, the guys made sure they had plenty of hay and water to help them weather the storm.

Even though it was cold all day long, the sun melted the ice on their coats by the time we checked cattle Sunday evening.

I did most of my viewing from the passenger side of the pickup while Randy walked out and checked cows and calves.

Thankfully, we're 3/4 complete with calving, and we didn't have any born during the cold sub-zero wind chills Saturday and Sunday nights.

That would have been a cold, cruel introduction to the world!

The cattle weren't the only animals out in the cold. So were deer and ...

... turkeys. There were probably 20 to 30 as we drove into one location. Sorry the photo isn't better. Turkeys may be slow ... but I guess I'm slower.