Pink Roses

 On the west side of our garage, we have transplanted every rose we own. When we first moved in, nearly 26 years ago, there was a lovely pink rose already here and we included that with the others. At one time, Mom bought an assortment of five roses and planted them evenly spaced in our front flower bed. We have since taken that bed out and planted grass.

 On Saturday Mom suggested I pick a bouquet of roses. Every time we back out of the garage she sees the multitude of flowers that decorate the brick garage wall. I have not watered them this dry, hot summer and I have only trimmed them once. They have been left to survive on their own.
 And survive they have. The row of roses is alive with color, though, at the moment, the pinks dominate. Mom has an especial favorite - the Lincoln rose - which is blood red and quite striking. It has not much appreciated the weather.
 Above you see the handful of roses I cut for a vase. Mom has placed them on the kitchen windowsill and as the rain fell from Tropical Depression Isaac the view was still alive with vivid color. On the outside the colors were muted and dark, grays and sombre browns. Inside we had striking summer-pink.

 Last evening I walked behind the garage and enjoyed the roses, now wet with rain. Even though the sun wasn't shining, they were dripping with diamonds of light. These two young roses were newly opened and fresh as the day.
 I understand why roses are popular. They pay back dearly and daily and with little care.
 My father used to tell me a story about his own father's roses. These were also planted on the west side of his garage. Dad, annoyed with having to mow around them, once cut them all off. It was an act he didn't soon forget.
 So on these early days of fall, we're still met with fantastic color. It will be short-lived. The first frost is but five weeks away and then the world of flowers will sink into rest. That is a season I love, too.

The Super Guppy

 On Wednesday, the Space Shuttle Crew Compartment Trainer arrived at the National Museum of the US Air Force. Unfortunately I never considered that the "Super Guppy" might be flying nearly over our house on its way to the museum with that precious cargo.

 When a friend posted several pictures of the plane flying overhead, I was disappointed that I had missed it. So I decided to pay close attention when the return flight was planned. Yesterday a local TV station said it was set to leave at 9 am.

I've found FlightAware to be a good, up-to-date source of information on flights, their routes and times. Last evening, though, they had no advance information on today's flight. Early this morning I checked again. No change. But later the flight was shown as being set for 9:50 am, then 9:40 am, and it finally left by 9:31 am.

 I wasn't ready. In fact I was still on the computer checking the flight times. Then FlightAware showed it was airborne. It was mere seconds before I heard the drone of the engine. I ran downstairs shoe-less, grabbed my camera and headed out onto the driveway apron.

 At first the plane was nearly overhead but it soon had past just west of me. I aimed the camera and shot.

NASA941 Super Guppy passing over Farmersville, Ohio at 8:42 am 08/24/12

The Aerospacelines Super Guppy is certainly an odd-looking plane with a fat, bulbous body. It looks like it shouldn't be airborne and yet this model has been flying since 1965. Turboprop-powered, it can carry 54,000 pounds and cruise at nearly 300 mph. It has a ceiling of 32,000 feet.

Dogday Harvestfly?

 I'd call it a locust (though they are really of the traditional grasshopper ilk) or even a cicada but my insect book says otherwise: Dogday Harvestfly (Tibicen canicularis). I don't suppose I ever paid close enough attention but the common Periodical Cicada (the one with the 17 year brood hereabouts) has red eyes.

  I was just stepping outside yesterday morning, carrying the garbage in one hand, a sack of trash for the garage in the other and I happened to straddle this insect unseen. He fired up his buzz-saw right at that point and I almost proved that I was capable to reaching the kitchen roof without benefit of a ladder.
 But then I thought: "Photo opportunity!".
 I came back out with the Canon, knelt down on the concrete floor, set the lens to macro and pushed it close to the insect. He stayed there while I took this single shot.
 Later that day I found a spent shell near the rolled garden hose, mere feet awy. It might have been the same. It might not, of course.
 I any case, photography allows for an up close look at the greenish-black body, the black-veined wings, the bulbous eyes with a single central pupil. It is like examining an alien.

Later: Here's a shot taken 08/14/12 of another Harvestfly. He sat there while I took this shot and then, when I tried to take a second shot from above, he fired up that buzz and I stood up just as quickly, sure that he was going to fly up the open leg of my shorts! He became airborne, flew off to the south, while I finished a most peculiar looking dance on the porch.

Mushrooms from Above

 After a recent storm I walked out to pick up the batch of small limbs which were scattered about the yard. When I was collecting limbs from the maple by the kitchen I found a true gem, a small section of bark which was covered by tiny mushrooms.

 The individual mushrooms are tiny, perhaps no more than 1/4" across for the largest. This entire section of bark will fit in the palm of my hand. I picked this up and lay it atop our concrete bench for this photo.

 This is my favorite shot of the group. I placed the bark atop the burn barrel, its top deep in standing rainwater. The late day sun was shining. Each gill comes into high relief in this macro shot. The true color of these mushrooms is better seen in the first shot, however. The sun seemed to "warm" the color a bit more than what I was viewing.

This is as close as my camera will allow. The front of the lens was almost touching the nearest mushroom for this photograph.
 Had we not had a storm, had we not had wet weather the day before, had the wind not blown strong enough nor at the perfect angle, this piece of bark might have stayed high in the tree and I'd never have been able to enjoy this sight, dropped from above.
 Just one day later - perhaps no more than a dozen hours, these mushrooms began to whiten and deflate. They quickly dropped to half their initial size and looked bleached. I lay them back beneath the maple.

Hotter than H-E-Double-L

 It is a heat wave like none I have known. Day after day into the 100's. Yesterday (07/05/12) was the 21st day this season where we topped 90°. Four of those days have exceeded 100°. It is rare in the Dayton area to reach triple digits.

 If there is anything to be said for this hot, dry weather, it is that the sunsets have been gorgeous. Each evening the sun sets like a fiery ball, scoots down among the corn tops to our west and seems to sizzle before dropping below the horizon.

 These first four pictures were taken on 07/03/12. We hit "just" 96° that day. I love the salmon-sky and the dark, contrasting pines at the rear of our property. This shot couldn't have been taken in the winter. You know instinctively that it is a summer scene.

 The pines seem to offer a filigree frame to the setting sun in this shot.

 The corn is high, even with the lack of rainfall (we've had not a drop in July and in June, we were 51% below normal). Each day, the sun bakes the ground ever drier. By evening the corn has pulled its leaves tight, crinkled them up against the stalk, protecting itself against the heat.

 The atmosphere shows few clouds.

 Last evening (07/05/12) I walked to the field behind Pinehaven to watch the sun set. There had been cumulus build to the north and collapse as the moisture neared the Miami Valley. Again we were left bone dry. The atmosphere took on a humid sheen and the sun was muted late in the day. For the past two days we've topped at 100°.
 Today and tomorrow promise to be hotter.

A Hot Spell

Technically, a "heat wave" must last at least three days hereabouts. The temperature must reach 90° each day. So far this season we've been at ninety or above fourteen times. This current run above ninety has been in fits and starts. But from June 16 through June 21, we were ninety and above every day that week.

 Then it cooled. On June 26 we managed to get down to 48° at night, a pleasant break indeed. Then yesterday we climbed to 102°.

 Throughout the day the temperature tickled one hundred. This is my Mail Pouch (replica) thermometer on the garage, nestled in the shade, beneath the overhang of the roof.

Likewise, the kitchen thermometer read the same. But when I took these pictures - as much to prove that I had three thermometers all registering the same reading - the day's high was still an hour or two away. Here's the actual graph of our June 28 temperatures:

 The high recorded by my digital weather station was 102.4 at 4:22 pm. That's the highest we've been since August 17, 1988 (it was 102° that day also).
 Just as impressive is that last night's official low as recorded by the National Weather Service was 80°. That's the highest low ever recorded in Dayton in 119 years of record-keeping. I, on the other hand, bottomed out at 75.3° owing to our open, rural location.

 Added to the concern of such heat is the lack of rainfall in this area. Though the Drought Monitor does not show the immediate Dayton area in a drought, we are classed "Abnormally Dry" and as near as Preble County, actual drought conditions exist.

 I suspect, if we don't get a rain this week, the next drought monitor will place us into a drought category. My measured rainfall this month is 1.50" and we have but a single day to go. Normal for June is 4.22". I water the garden most evenings but I worry about every drop. Living on a well, the source of the spigot is seventy feet below our feet and we have no one to depend on but ourselves.

 Hot and dry ... there is little more to say.

Horse's Radish

 Many years ago, we grew horseradish in our garden but took it out when it began to spread. I remember moving the plant to the north edge of the meadow where it thrived for many years. I also remember harvesting some of it there. I've not seen it since. I suppose I took too much of the root or perhaps the plant tired of competing with the weeds. In any case, it is gone.

 My cousin loves homemade horseradish so a few years ago we bought another start. What you get is a couple of tiny roots in a plastic bag; what you have to do is wait. A new start must be given three years before you begin taking the root.

 I dug the roots on the left on June 10, collecting them in this cardboard basket and bringing them to the porch to begin processing. The roots are heavy after several years and the dark, bark-like material on the outside must be removed. I just laid a newspaper down on the bench and went at it with a sharp knife.

 The pure white horseradish should be cut into small chunks, small enough to go through a blender and be reduced to a fairly fine condiment. I add some water to help the blending (the blender should actually be set to "grate"). Then, before continuing with the recipe, I pour the water off.

 You see the entire list of ingredients in the above picture: grated horseradish, salt and white vinegar. It's quite a potent mixture and one you should be careful working with. The fumes can irritate your eyes and nose. Never touch your eyes after working with horseradish!

 We bottle the finished sauce in whatever we have handy, making sure that the surface is covered with vinegar. After it's made, keep horseradish refrigerated at all times.  It keeps many months.

 Didn't Brylcreem use the slogam "a little dab'l do ya"? Well, that same motto holds for homemade horseradish. It's hot!