Christmas Tree: Deconstructed.

I took down the Christmas tree today, a few days early. However, it wasn't so much a "took down" the tree this year as a "took apart".

About 5 years ago, we invested in an artificial tree. Never thought I'd want an artificial tree, but changes in circumstances and philosophies convinced me it was the right thing to do. I couldn't justify cutting down a living tree any more. Mind you, I love the smell of a fresh cut pine tree. I always will. But I just couldn't support it any more, cutting down a living thing to put in me living room for 2 weeks. Next came potted trees. I would find either a Leland Cyprus, or a Red Cedar, potted and really live, which we would donate to the park behind the house each year. We know where several of our former Christmas trees are planted and visit them regularly. Allergies put an end to that practice.

In 2004, we bought an artificial tree. We'd waited until the week before Christmas. I really wanted a tree and that was the only option. After visiting several stores I settled on one at Lowes. As luck would have it, Lowes had already posted their clearance discounts. Everything was 75% off. I walked out of the store with a 6.5 foot pre-lit tree and a nice tree skirt for $35.00. We've used them ever since.

This year when we set it up, the top string of lights were not working. That's the disadvantage to a pre-lit tree. You can't take the lights off, spread the string out on the floor and figure out what's wrong. We worked on the string for about 90 minutes, poking through the branches, re-seating all the bulbs, and looking for bad wires and fuses. Nothing, everything looked OK. We couldn't find the problem. Finally we gave up and got out the old string of lights from the days of the potted trees. I plugged in the old string, stood up to start putting them on the tree, and (go figure) the pre-lit lights were on. ??? I still don't know why they were out. Fine. Be that way. We put the old string back in it's box and finished the rest of the decorating.

The string at the top of the tree didn't give us any more trouble, but other strings did. A few days after the tree was up we noticed that the bottom looked a little dark. There was a string out on the bottom of the tree. This had happened a few years ago when Mara had chewed a bulb out of it's socket. Replacing that bulb brought the lights back on. This year, it wasn't a missing bulb. Then a few nights later, Edward and I were sitting watching TV and we both saw some lights under the tree get really bright, then flash out with a "ppffsstt" sound. We both thought it was just one bulb. Nope. When we took the tree apart, we found that a second string was out. Not only were they out, but the bulbs all look really burned out, with black rings around them. That's not good.

We decided that the best course of action was to de-string the tree. In the future, we could inspect the strings and look for a missing bulb, frayed wire or other trouble without the lights being on the tree. Edward's mother had an artificial tree that lasted decades. I had hoped this one would last longer and it will probably last many more years, just without the lights that came with it. The structure of the tree is fine. It took me three hours to deconstruct the tree. It was easy to see how the lights were attached. I'm guessing that the person whose job it was to string those lights could probably string a tree in less then an hour. There was a distinct pattern to the work and that made taking it apart easier.

In the end I salvaged 3 of the 5 sets of lights from the tree. Of the bad sets, each was made up of two strings, one that burned out, and one that didn't. I scavenged the bulbs from the working half and tossed everything else. I also replaced all the other single burned out bulbs on the strings I saved. With the bulbs I salvaged, I should have enough replacements to last a few years. Next year we'll get out the old strings we used on the potted trees to make up for the bad sets. We'll just have to string the lights ourselves.... And maybe, it won't take as long to put up next year... or take down.

A Simple Model of Coastal Erosion...

The USGS holds an Open House every November. We set up booths with displays to show our research to the public and try to present it in a way that everyone can understand.

The display I run is called The Wave Tank.

The Wave tank was a shallow pan with about 1-2 inches of water in the bottom. At one end is a shop fan, the type that can move a lot of air in a small space. In the middle of the pan is an island, built from playground sand, and green and brown colored sand from Micheals. The colored sand helps define the island surface and show the erosion as the model runs. I usually build the island like a dog's toy bone, thick and high on the ends and thin and low in the middle. On a real island the sand piles would represent dunes. On top of the dunes I place houses built from small wooden cubes, some with nails in them to represent pilings, others without nails. They are stuck into the sand at various levels and places. It represents a typical barrier island, one you can find along much of the East and Gulf coasts of the US. At the back of the pan there is another pile of sand, which represents the mainland behind the barrier island. It's a surprisingly simple representation of a coastal system and I use it to show what can happen during a hurricane.

When I turn on the fan, the effect is almost immediate. This simple model begins to erode within minutes. The whole thing takes about 60-90 minutes to run and shows several import coastal processes that occur during a storm. First, a scarp forms on the front of the island, and the sand begins to move from the front of the island to the sides. This demonstrates the natural sand transport that is always occurring on the beach. A small flat shelf of sand develops in front of the island as the "dunes" erode.

If you look close, you can actually see the sand grains moving along that shelf. Sometimes, when the houses aren't completely stuck into the sand, they'll blow over. That's OK, because damage to coastal structures isn't always caused by water.

When I build the island, I put a layer of brown sand inside the island. The neat thing about the brown sand is that, for some reason, it doesn't like to absorb the water. As it turns out, this is a good thing for the model. The brown sand traps air and behaves the same way a layer of muddy, marsh sediment would behave, acting at first like a resistant layer to erosion from waves. It makes the dune scarp more pronounced and for a short time protects the island from eroding.

As the storm continues to blow more sand is removed from the front of the island and transported to the sides, where spits form. In the center, where the surface is lower and narrower, the island becomes dangerously thin.

On the ends, the brown sand has been exposed and the overlying layer sides off into the water, taking the houses with it. This sand becomes an additional source of sediment for the growing spits. The houses on top of the sand, with pilings beneath them might tip or fall into the water.

This year, as an added twist, I built a seawall of small stones for a few of the runs. Behind the seawall, things are better, but only for a while. Waves refract around the seawall and begin to erode the dunes from the sides. In fact, in one run during the open house, the side of the island with the sea wall actually eroded faster then the side without at first, due to the action of the waves around the seawall. Eventually, the unprotected side lost it's battle while some of the island with the seawall remained protected. It showed that the seawall wasn't the solution to the problem of erosion and in some places made the erosion worse.

The model also shows that just because it had pilings didn't mean a house will survive. If they aren't blown over by the initial gusts of wind from the fan, they still had to deal with the erosion, overwash and undermining of their supports. If the pilings were long enough to push all the way through the sand to the bottom of the pan they might survive. Sometimes, a house that started at the top of the dune ended up standing in water, with no land around it anymore. If the pilings were too short, then it was only a matter of time before the sand would erode away, and the house would fall over.

Eventually, the center of the island breaks through, forming a breach. Sand from the two now disconnected islands is transported through the gap and an overwash deposit is formed. My once tall pile of sand has flattened out and changed shape.


I reset the model three times during open house. Sometimes with a seawall, once with a breakwater in front of the island, but not touching it. No two runs are ever the same. Sometimes the island erodes quicker, and sometimes slower. If the island is closer to the fan, it erodes faster, just as if the hurricane were a stronger storm. In our model we see scarps form and underlying "muds" exposed, dunes washed away and structures fail, we see islands breached and islands overwashed. All these things we see in nature, all these things we see on real islands in real storms, on real coastlines.

The first time I ran this model was in Reston, VA, for the USGS Open House at the National Center. I wasn't completely sure at the time if it would work. Oh boy, did it work! The kids not only loved it... they got it. Would you like to live on a barrier island?... "No..." Why? "Because it's going to go away." Where would you like to live? "Back here" they say pointing to the sand at the back. A father looked at me and said "Now I get it." One boy was particularly excited. He explained what he thought was going to happen to his Mom. And he was right. Then for the next hour, he returned about every 10 minutes, Mom in tow, to check the process. With each visit he pointed out what had changed, and which houses were closer to falling over, and which ones had. This year, in St Petersburg there was girl who returned again and again to check the progress of "her" house, the one she'd picked at the start of the run, to see if it was still standing.

It's a simple model, but it works. Over the course of an hour, I can show someone what might happen to a house built on a beach. I can show them what might happen to the island itself. A beach, or a barrier island, is a pile of sand. It is, by it's very nature, designed to move. Putting seawalls and riprap in front of a structure to stabilize it only delays the inevitable. Water moves sand. Wind moves water. In a hurricane the sand is going to move. A barrier island not a place you want to be during a storm. It's not hard to understand that. And maybe, just maybe, we really should be considering if we should be building out there in the first place.

Island Animation - Click to play (660kb)

The Fly...

I know what a fly feels like when he lands on fly paper...

Back in February, they disassembled the cube farm outside my office, pulled up all the carpet and installed new carpet squares. These were supposed to be great because if one square got stained or worn, you could peal it up and replace it, without disturbing it's neighbors, the desks or have to replace the whole carpet again. And believe me, after 13 years that old carpet needed to be replaced. Once they were done, office installed brand new cubes, providing more seating then before. Sounded great...

About 3 months later we all noticed that something wasn't quite right. The squares were starting to curl up. Our operations manager said that when the carpet was made, they recycled the backing material, in an effort to be "green". Unfortunately, some silicon contaminated the rubber backing. And you know what silicon is used for, to provide lubrication or... (wait for it...) a non stick surface. The problem is that in this case, they wanted a "stick" surface. Because the carpet squares were pealing up, people were tripping on them... people carrying computers were tripping on them... not good.

Even better, we weren't the only office to be carpeted with that particular lot of carpet squares. Two other offices in St Petersburg were in the same situation. The solution, pull up all the carpet and redo it. To do that, at least in our case, they had to remove all those new cubes first.

Tuesday and Wednesday we spent time moving all the people in the farm out of their cubes (again), and into other seating. Thursday, the cube installer returned, disassembled all the cubes and stacked them to one side off the carpet. They had to do it, or it would void the warranty. It took them about 6 hours. Now the interesting thing is that with the cubes removed we all noticed the "new" 8 month old carpet squares looked like they were about 8 years old, very worn and faded where people sat. Strike two for this batch of carpet. Friday morning, starting at 8:00 am, a crew removed all the old carpet. I can say with certainty at this point... it wasn't the carpet glue that was bad.

I had enough foresight to wear sneakers on Friday. I thought about it before work. If I'd worn my Birkenstocks, they would still be over by the entry to cube farm, stuck in the glue. Even with sneakers on, the glue threatened to pull off my shoes... People who wore flops were walking out of their shoes. It was an amusing sight, actually, watching them struggle to keep their shoes on their feet. More people had worn flops then not.

Think of walking through a puddle of dried sugar. You know, someone dropped a popsicle on the sidewalk two days ago, and you walked through the remains and your shoes feel like they are sticking to the ground. Now imagine that 10 times stronger... no, 20 or more times stronger. To get to my office I have to walk, at a minimum, 30 feet across this glue. What's more, like that stickiness from the popsicle sugar stays on your shoes for a little while, and so was this glue. It's the stick that keeps on sticking. Next thing I know, I'm sticking to the tile, my office carpet and everywhere else I walk..., skerch, skerch, skerch... you can hear me coming. And it hasn't come off yet, two days later. I drove home barefoot on Friday, because even though I scrapped, scuffed and shuffled my way to the car, it wasn't coming off any time soon and I didn't want it on my pedals.

This weekend the carpet company is supposed to re-lay all the carpet. The cube installers are supposed to be back on Monday to reassemble the "farm". Then everyone is supposed to move back to their appointed places. I hope that is the case, because walking on that glue is been super annoying. None of us thought they wouldn't start laying the new carpet as soon as they pulled the old carpet up and I didn't figure they would pull the carpet until they were ready to start re-laying it. Silly me.

I think the carpet company may have realized their mistake, or at least they were aware of it, in pulling the carpet up on Friday Morning, instead of stay... Friday afternoon. About 3:30 I noticed a strange woman struggling across the glue in backless pump-style shoes. From the door of my office I asked if she was looking for someone. "Nope, I'm from the carpet company. I'm just bring up this box..." which she then decided to toss to the side by the wall, into the glue, and head back the way she'd come. I couldn't help but smirk as I watched her struggle to turn around, and make her way back to the edge of the glue without loosing her shoes. 15 feet and about 3 minutes later she made it. All the while looking like a fly caught on sticky paper.

Lemon Light...

There was a storm approaching.... The radar was showing bright red just east of us. About 30 minutes ago it started rumbling, quietly at first, then progressively louder. The sun was also setting, and as it did, it got below the edge of the clouds to the west and the whole sky lit up with lemon yellow light. Beautiful and erie at the same time. Greens became richer or darker, depending on the tree or plant or grass. The cedar took on a rich, dark green hue.

I wandered out to the end of the driveway to watch the sky. Off to the east, in the direction of the approaching storm, low scud clouds were standing out against their darker comrades as they raced west. Lightning began to stand out against the darkening sky. The rumbles got louder. From the east, the winds picked up, carrying the telltale signs of approaching rain. Cooler temperatures and the feeling of more moisture in the air. It was time to retreat to the front patio.

The sky began to fade. But then, the sky turned orange. The greens became muted, and the lightning more frequent. It was starting to rain.

I retreated into the house to watch the rest of the storm. We sat in the front room with the lights off. The frequent lightning was strong enough to light up the room in the fading light. You could tell the direction the light was coming from, first to the north, then south. Rumbles answered all the flashes. The computer chimed. EmergencyEmail.org reported rainfall rates of two inches an hour in Pinellas. Urban flood advisories were issued.

The storm has passed now. We didn't get the torrential downpour I thought we would. The thunder has quieted, the lightning dimmed. There is still a lot of rain out there. In an hour or so, the storm will have moved offshore. Lightning may still dance across the sky, but the thunder will be too far away to hear. Outside, the side walk is still wet... proof that a storm had passed by.

DragonCon: Out of Context...

"If it weren't for my horse, I wouldn't have spent that year in college..." Lewis Black

On of my favorite Lewis Black routines describes over hearing a conversation at his local health club, The International House of Pancakes. He describes hearing a part of a conversation that, because it was so far out of context that it seemed farcical, but was also great fodder for a comedy routine. He must have spent 15 minutes debating the meaning of that simple partial sentence... Very funny...

Last year at DragonCon, I caught a number of partial conversations, which when taken out of context, were not only strange, but very amusing. Now, I know you shouldn't listen in on other peoples conversations, but some times people just make it so darn hard not to overhear what their saying... So in honor of a tradition inspired by Lewis Black, I bring you this year's "DragonCon: Out of Context"

"This is my nightmare, this is my nightmare, this is my nightmare..." 8 year old boy writhing on the floor of the Sears store in St Pete while waiting for his mother in the checkout line (we were buying jeans to take with us to Atlanta.)

"Maybe the nipple clamps wouldn't come off." A fellow DCon'er recalling a loud event outside their door at last year's DCon.

"I love jumping out of airplanes, but I hate flying..." - a paratrooper on the plane on the way to Atlanta...

"Religion is the reason we have short, fat people today... and civilization."

"PeachTree Center. It's like the Mall between the convention centers."

"Boobs or Booze?"

"Could you look in my desk drawer, find my checkbook... and pay my rent? Don't worry about the signature, they don't check it... unless I contest it. So how was work?" - Um... the Con started on Sept 4th, how could you forget to pay your rent on the 1st?

"OK, seriously, if last night keeps happening, I'm going to have to buy a second kilt." - Twitterer @ DCon

"Everything's better with Pandas."

"There are Jello Dynamics moving down there..." Watching the crowd in the Marriott Atrium from the 4th floor.

"Spikes? I got Spikes. Move or get Perforated. I love herding people."

"The product costs money. The abuse is free."

"My backpack is heavier then I am."

"Four words: Naked Pregnant Space Kitty." - same Twitterer

"What I really want is teleportation. I don't want to have to walk" (DCon is spread across 4 hotels covering 6 city blocks end to end...)

"Female Peacock..."

"Unfortunately, the genre of cyberpunk, paranormal, romance is almost dead." It was ever alive?!?

"He's a 6th level lawyer with a +1 in technology" - about the GA lawyer in the digital forensics panel.

"My car breaks down... I blame Vista..."

"If you want to take him to the bathroom where you can barely stand, you can change him."

"I think he slept in that mask"

"I don't know... my coffee stopped working." - in the Chili's in the Atlanta airport.


For those of you I quoted... thank you... I promise to keep you anonymous...

Twenty Years.

As I was walking down the stairs to go to the All Hands Meeting this morning, Jack looks up at me from the lobby and says "There's Karen." Sandy says, "I thought she was here today." Uh Oh. That usually means your going to get called out for something at the meeting. Either you've know something they want you to tell everyone about (a project or other event). Or you've done something.

Me? I'd done something...

Hilary had walked in with me... Do you know what's up? Yeah, I had an idea.

Jack started the meeting with it. I was standing on the side with a cup of tea in my hand. "Karreennn" he says, picking up a folder with something small stapled to the front. I put down, my tea, and took one step forward. I paused, "Whhaatt?" It got a good chuckle from everyone. Then I walked up to the front, trying not to blush. Jack looked at me... "Do you know what this is about?" "Yeah, How long I've been here, right?" "Is it two years late?", he said, as these things are usually awarded several years after the fact. No. Keith pipes up "Two years early?" Everyone got a kick out of that, too. It would have been a classic Government move. "Karen has been with the Survey(?) 20 years." Jack continued. "Almost 19" I said, "But yes, just passed 20 years Federal Service." There was a certificate embossed with a seal very similar to the Presidential seal, in silver, with a 20 at the bottom. We are part of the executive branch after all. And a lapel pin. A USGS buffalo with a little banner at the bottom that said '20 years'. In truth, the government always takes about 2 years or more to process these things. Jim got his 10 year pin earlier this year, after being here about 15 years... maybe more. I wasn't expecting to be called out so soon.

It's hard to believe that I've been in this office for 19 years (next month). It's equally as hard to believe I've worked for the government for 20 years, starting with the DOD in Maryland. It really doesn't seem like all that long ago. I'll hang the certificate in my office next to the certificate for 10 years of Federal Service. Have I said I love my job? I do. It's something I consider worth doing, because I serve my country. It's something I'm proud of, and it's something I will, in all probability, do for another 20 years...

Dryer Vent Follies...

Our dryer vent exits on the roof. It goes straight up from the floor of the laundry room, through the attic, to the roof. I guess they thought that was shortest route. Probably the easiest to install, but far from easy when it's comes time to clean it. And we try to do that once a year, or when cloths start to dry more slowly as the case has been in the last few weeks.

To do this, one of us has to get up on the roof. That's usually me. My hands are smaller and can get under and into the vent, which is curved to keep the rain out. The top wasn't that clogged this time, which is good. A few months after the roof was replaced the dryer started taking forever to dry cloths. It seemed odd since while they had the roof off and the dryer pipe open we cleaned the heck out of it. The vent hood was also being replaced and it was the one and only time we had a straight shot down it to clean it. When I got up on the new roof that day, I found that there was a screen on the hood, and that was completely clogged. This after we'd called out service to look at the dryer. "Your vent's clogged... We don't do vents... $40 bucks, pleased". We removed the screen... permanently. Sigh.

I climbed up on the roof that morning. Not the best time to be doing this. It had raining, which meant the roof was still damp, because the sun hadn't risen beyond the trees. It was, to quote one of Edward's more colorful phrases, "slicker then snail snot" up there. I didn't stand, but crawled the 8 feet to the vent. To clean it, besides sticking my hand up under the vent to pull out the caked on lint, we drop a chain tied to a rope down the pipe. This usually knocks off any clumps of lint stuck to the inside of the pipe. It also allows us to tie the vent dryer brush to the rope and pull it through the whole length of the pipe. You see, the pipe is about 15-18 feet long. The brush handle, before we snapped off the last foot was maybe 6 feet long. We tried just using the brush but ended up clogging the pipe about 6 feet up, where the brush pushed all the lint to.

The chain was being difficult that morning. It didn't want to feed into the vent and fall. Once that was done, I fed Edward the rest of the rope. Unfortunately, I was supposed to hang onto one end so that we could tie on the brush and pull it down the pipe. So I had to feed it in again. Then once the brush was tied on it didn't want to feed in to the hood. It is a tight corner. In the process of doing that the handle of the brush first pinched, then caught and stuck the skin on my left arm. Son of a b***... It took a second to free it. It's kind of like slamming your thumb in the car door. First there is the Son of a b*** moment, then the tug... sh** I'm caught moment, then the trying to get yourself free moment, follow (optionally) by the colorful language moment. It left a bruise about the size of silver dollar and a welt about twice as thick on my arm. In a few days, it should be a lovely shade of purple, turning to that even lovelier shade of "jungle rot green" healing bruises always acquire.

At least the vent is clean and the dryer is working. Sometimes we have to fiddle with the hose to get kinks out of it after we're all done. But it seems to be fine at the moment.

And as a bonus... I didn't even fall off the roof...

Mara. Up Close.

Lying in the sun...

Upside down...

Paws at the ready...

Nose in the sun.

An inspiration to us all...

Last night I met a 23 year breast cancer survivor. We had dinner with her family. This wasn't the first time I'd met her, though, her daughter and I have been friends since junior high school, and we'd kept in touch all these years. They had come to Florida on vacation, and she had come with them.

They had gotten to the restaurant before we did, so when we got there and the only table seated started waving at us, we headed over. I recognized my friend as an older woman got up for the table and started over towards us. Maybe it was the lighting, which was a little dim, but I'm embarrassed to say I didn't recognize her at first. I didn't remember that she was also coming. As she opened her arms to give me a hug. "How are you doing?" she said. I knew that voice. That's when it clicked. The last time I'd seen her was sometime not too long after we graduated from high school, now nearly 30 years ago, and many years before her own diagnosis... I don't remember if my friend had told me about it at the time. I don't think she did. But when I got my own diagnosis, she told me about her own mom, and that some 20 years later, she was fine and thriving.

All through the evening, while we talked, I remembered her laugh, the same after all these years. She looked wonderful. About halfway through the evening, she lowered her voice a little and asked how I was doing. It wasn't the same question as before. Nor was she being secretive, but instead, respectful. Her grandchildren were sitting at the other end of the table. We talked about being survivors. About how when she was diagnosed, you didn't talk about it. How the doctors sometimes treated her as if it was somehow her fault. That it was somehow shameful that she had cancer... and breast cancer, oh my, that was taboo even to the doctors. At the time she didn't tell anyone what happened to her either, until one day, a few years after her mastectomy she was training to be a home help care provider. The subject of breast cancer and mastectomies came up. One of the other women said, "Oh, I would rather die then loose my breast. My husband would leave me." That was it. That's when she spoke up and for the first time told her story. She told them what had happened to her... "So what if you loose a breast. You can live. And if you husband doesn't like that, well then good riddance to him. Who needs him anyway. There is life AFTER cancer." We talked more about the women who have made it possible for the rest of us to talk about it. Betty Ford, Susan Komen, and so many others. How now, every direction you turn, you see pink ribbons, and pink hats, and pink... everything. Breast cancer had final come out of the shadows and into the light. And we lamented the fact that 23 years after her diagnosis, women still get breast cancer and we still don't know why and we still don't have a cure.

As we parted ways in the parking lot, I told her how good it was to see her again. How I'd planned to follow in her footsteps. How I plan to be a long term survivor, too. Actually, I wasn't entirely truthful. I plan to beat her record, and I want her to make it hard to beat. She's still adding survivor years to her total... She's going to be adding them for some time to come... And I'll be following behind her, following the light that so many of us, too many of us, hold high to guide those following behind us. To light the way and prove there is life after breast cancer. We'll beat this and maybe one day, the line that follows us will dwindle to nothing. It's what we all hope for. And in the meantime we look to those who have gone before and see hope... Thank you, Beverly, for being an inspiration to us all....

Watching you, Watching me, Watching....

I went out back to clean our porch chairs. They were turning black. Dust, mildew or something. They're vinyl, so it should have been easy to just hose them off, give them a scrub and let them dry in the sun. As I was carrying out the first one, Edward spotted a hawk lift out of the ditch and land in a nearby tree. He'd caught himself some lunch. Time for some green frog tartare... I sent Edward in after the camera and kept an eye on him. Then I watched him for the next 15 minutes as he polished off the frog.

It was a Red Shouldered Hawk. He seemed perfectly comfortable standing there, having his lunch while I clicked away with the camera. Then he cleaned his beak, and looked around. Several times he looked my way. I seemed hardly worth notice. I was after all about 100 feet away, across a ditch and behind a chain link fence.

The classic rock band Jethro Tull had a song that seemed appropriate... and do you ever get that feeling....

"He's watching me watching you watching him watching me
I'm watching you watching him watching me" - "Watching Me Watching You"
-Jethro Tull

Inspiration...

Something really neat happened the other day.

USF has a summer program called "The Oceanography Camp for Girls" every year. It's a program designed to encourage girls who have just finished eighth grade get involved in science and maybe even consider a career in oceanography or some related field. By limiting it to girls, the program hopes to create an environment for girls to learn, participate and "get dirty" without worrying what the boys will think.

The USGS participates by giving the girls a tour of the building and letting the girls interview the scientists. Each summer our public relations coordinator, Ann, request volunteers to talk to the girls. The campers often come armed with questions written on a sheet of note paper, carefully prepared before the interview starts. Ann likes to get the women scientists in the office to volunteer to be interviewed, to serve as positive role models, although the men are welcome to do the interviews as well. Travel permitting, I've volunteered several times. There was always that awkward moment in the interview when the camper doesn't know what else to say after asking all her questions. She's just going through the motions, because that was the assignment given to her for camp that day. And then, once or twice, there has been the girl that seem really interested in knowing what you do each day. She asks more then the rote questions "What to you do?" and "What was you degree?"

This year they didn't need me for interviews. The girl's tour of the office stood outside my door twice this week, listening to Kara explain about the damage Hurricane Ike did to the Bolivar Peninsula in front of the poster we put together for the National Hurricane Conference. They were the usual mix of half bored, half interested girls, who are probably thinking more about starting high school next fall then what's in front of them.

Later in the afternoon there was another knock on my door. Kara was standing there with a young woman whom at first I thought was another camper. Turns out I was only half wrong. This bright young woman was a junior at FSU. In 2002, only the second year that the USGS participated in the camp, she had sat in my office interviewing me. Much to my chagrin, I did not remember her. Not only did she remember me, she said that she had been so interested in hearing what I did, so fascinated by hearing about our hurricane research that it inspired her to go into meteorology. FSU has a very good meteorology program. She actually said I had inspired her to go into science. She asked Kara if I was still there, and Kara brought her by to say hello. Wow.

It's not often you get to see the results of those interviews. It's hard to imagine that a 10 minute conversation could spark that kind of interest. It's gratifying to think that you might in some small way, have help someone choose a path in life. I don't consider myself much of a role model, although there are some that would disagree. I never know what to say to these girls, never know what would inspire them to be their best, even if it isn't science that they choose to pursue. Today, I found out I made a difference in one life. Will I volunteer again? Yeah, I will. And maybe, just maybe, someone else will feel inspired...

Accident Assistance...

This morning's drive was exciting, right at the end... As I turned off 1st Avs S, onto 4th Street about a half mile from work, I noticed one of the street lights was askew... oh, someone must have hit that last... oh, the cars are still there... and the people are standing next to them... and there is no rescue units... oh dear.

I pulled off into a parking lot, grabbed the cell phone and headed over. A red SUV had been broadsided by a white sedan. The impact had sent the SUV into the light pole where both had come to rest. The pole was snapped at the bottom and leaning over. There was an older woman holding a 3 year old little girl. There was young (20 yrs old?) petit woman holding a tiny baby, shaking hard and standing to the side. Two other cars had stopped and the drivers were both on their phones. So I didn't call myself. I started asking if people were OK. At first I couldn't get any answer out of the woman with the little girl. She looked ok, so I went over to the mother. Her husband was one of the people on the phone. The baby was OK, she was 2 months old and already falling back asleep in her mothers arms. The mom was pretty scared. She went over to sit on one of the nearby benches. The woman holding the little girl turned out to be the driver of the white sedan. She was OK, I think she was just in shock when I first spoke to her.

I didn't see the accident. People had just gotten out of the cars when I came around the corner. Another woman with a badge for the nearby children's hospital (but not a nurse) saw the accident. She said the red car was speeding down 4th street. I'm not sure which way the white sedan was going. One of them ran the red light. Both airbags had gone off in the SUV. Not sure about the sedan. There was a baby (infant’s) seat in the SUV, I didn't see a child's seat, but honestly, I didn't look that close. The little girl didn't look hurt at all, thank goodness. The father had started rubbing his shoulder and holding his arm funny by the time the EMT's got there. I think the adrenaline was running out of his system and he was starting to feel it. I hung out and tried to help where I could. By the time I was leaving, there were two fire trucks, an ambulance, and several St Pete Police cruisers. There wasn't any thing else I could do but get in the way. One of the officers walked over to me as I was starting up the Rav4. He asked if I had seen anything. Nope, everyone was out of their cars by the time I came around the corner. "OK, I'll let you get on you're way."

As I had started around the corner onto 4th Street, the 7:30 “funny” was on NPR. I don't even remember what the story was... I got in to the office at 7:45. I wasn't at the accident for much more then 10 minutes. I hope I was able to provide some help, or at least some comfort. The USGS has offered first aid training and CPR training for years. In fact they require it for people who work in the field. Anyone at the office, field personnel or not, can take it. It’s come in handy over the years. This isn't the first time I've headed over to the site of an accident to see if I could help. The last time was when we were in Wales when someone had rolled their car. That was a strange one, begin so far from home. Everyone was OK there, too. That was just one of two accidents we saw that rainy Welsh day...

I never know whether to stop or not. I'm only minimally trained. Even with the training I'm not obligated to stop. But I would feel guilty thinking maybe there was something I could have done, beside call 911. I wouldn't want to make matters worse. I just hope that my being there has, in some small way, helped the people involved.

"Photos Courtesy of the U.S. Geological Survey"

Cohasset, MA
(click on any pictures for a larger view)

"Photos Courtesy of the U.S. Geological Survey." That doesn't mean I didn't take them... I did. I just took them while at work, in an airplane, 500 ft over the coast.

Last week I was in the Northeast. I started by calling this trip the "New England 2009" trip because it was a repeat of the Oct 2000 trip we took to photograph the New England coast. That didn't really seem to fit this trip in the end, as only about half of the survey was in New England. So it soon became the Northeast Trip 2009. Same initials "NE", larger area. 9,755 pictures later we had updated our data base for that area. No that's not a typo. 9,755 pictures... in three days. We averaged 3,250 pictures a day, but when you consider that the first day was shortened by equipment trouble and we only got 1,970 pictures the first day... it's a little more impressive. On the last day, slightly behind schedule, we pushed to finish the distance and took a record 4,676 in one day. We almost ran out of disk space.

In stead of basing out of a particular airport or Coast Guard Station each day, we flew until the light conditions deteriorated (which was about 3:00 in the afternoon, latest), found a place to stay for the night, then the next morning, got up and kept going. That had two distinct advantages. One, we didn't have much, if any, transit time during each days survey. We were near where we wanted to start each morning (at least in theory) and when we finished we didn't have to fly back to where we started. Two, we could go a lot further over all, since we didn't have to change our base of operations midway through the trip, like we did in 2000. We took everything we needed with us on the plane. Of course the plane had to ferry back home after we'd finished, but he could go straight and at speed, rather then along the coast and at 80 mph.

Knox County Airport, ME
On this trip we started at Rockland, Maine, flying in a Cessna Stationaire 207. The airport at Rockland has two runways. A commercial airline, Cape Air, flies into Rockland 3 times a day from Boston. They have a small building, one counter, a metal detector... and 12 full time TSA employees. Did I mention they get 3 flights from and to Boston a day. Now, I'm all for security, but 12 (!) full time TSA, standing around waiting for flights at 10:30 am, 3:30 pm and 7:30 pm. The people who fly out of Rockland end up in the secure areas of US air travel system. So, yeah, they need to be checked, but that seems a little like over kill. But I digress.

Cape Elizabeth, ME
We started the actual survey at Portland, Maine, flying south and shooting with a digital still camera out the copilots open window. The coast of Maine, New Hampshire and Massachusetts (north of Boston) is rocky and spotted with pocket beaches. South of Boston there are sandy beaches and tall bluffs.

We went all the way down to the Cape Cod Canal and then flew out to Provincetown. We flew down the outer Cape to Monomoy Island, out to Nantucket and Martha's Vinyard, before returning to Chatham and flying the southern exposure of the Inner Cape. From there we headed across the south Massachusetts shore and across Rhode Island to the Connecticut border before turning south to Montauk Point on Long Island. The Long Island coast was nearly all sandy shore. Flying it became much easier then the curvy, rocky New England coast. We headed from the west end of Long Island to Sandy Hook, New Jersey, through Maryland, Delaware and Virginia, to the North Carolina border, where we had started our survey last May... And every day the weather was fantastic. The worst we had was high hazy clouds that softened the shadows and dimmed the sun, but only a little.

Truro, Cape Cod, MA
We used a brace to hold the window open. I was mostly out of the wind. Cheryl wasn't. She got the wind full force and full cold. The first day was the worst in terms of cold. When we landed for lunch Cheryl's fingers were numb. We landed in Falmouth on the first night, early, after loosing our GPS signal. We weren't able to get it back while in the air, but once on the ground we shut everything down and when we restarted it, the GPS was back. Cheryl and Emily were able to go home that night, sleep in their own beds and get more warm cloths, which they didn't need as much of on the last day. Each day was progressively warmer. On the second day of the survey we had lunch on Martha's Vinyard and spent the night in the Hamptons. Like Cheryl said, how many USGS geologists can make that claim? We got up early on Thursday and continued west along Long Island. Had lunch in Ocean City, NJ and finished at the North Carolina border around 3:00. We couldn't have gone much farther. We were very close to getting shadows on the beach. The only thing that saved us was that there was no water behind the beaches to reflect the sun back into the camera.

Indian Point, ME
I love flying this part of the coast, it's so unlike the sandy southern US coastlines. Maine, New Hampshire and northern Massachusetts' coasts are alternately rocky, then sandy, then composted of high bluffs of glacial material. It's absolutely gorgeous. Cape Cod is the remains of a terminal glacial moraine. North to Race Point, Provincetown and south along the Monomy Islands, are all depositional sand spits. In the middle of that part of the Cape are tall bluffs of eroding material that are retreating steadily. It's my favorite part of the trip. I grew up going to the Cape every summer with my family. I did my senior research project as an undergraduate was on it's geologic history. Being able to fly over it, and this was the second time, is just gravy on this job. The Rhode Island coast is a lot like Maine; rocky, with large pocket beaches and mansions that make your typical "McMansion" look like a hovel. Long Island is also a terminal glacial moraine and began the long run of sandy shoreline toward the south. While I was able to comment on the geology of Cape Cod, Cheryl explained the history of Long Island. Long Island is Cheryl's forte. She was able to not only tell us about the erosional history and concerns, but a lot of the political controversies that rage on the island today. Much of her recent research has focused on Long Island. Since Cheryl grew up in New Jersey, we also heard the tales of her mischievous teenaged beach adventures.

Humpback Whales, Provincetown, Cape Cod, MA

One of the best things about the trip was one sight that had nothing to do with coastal processes. I dubbed it a "non-coastal feature". Off the coast of Provincetown there was a small pod of Humpback whales, including calves. I'd been whale watching once from Provincetown. It was pretty neat. This beat that trip. We spotted the whales as we came around the northern curve of the Provincetown spit. In 17 years of flying in Maine from the mainland to the islands our pilot had never seen whales. We all looked at Cheryl. This was her gig. "Well, as long as we're here..." We took two loops around them. I think they were as curious about us as we were about them. The mother, more then once, turned her white belly up trying to get a look at us, while we took pictures of her.

It was an amazing trip. We only took still images. No video this time. Cheryl didn't see the need for video, and since this was her project, she made the call. It was the first time I'd worked with Cheryl, even though I've known her for 10 years. It was a hoot. It was great to meet Emily as well. We made up the first "all girl" flight crew from the USGS. Our pilot said he felt right at home. He and his wife raised two girls. So he was used to hanging around women. I'm hoping that it won't be another 9 years before we fly this area again. They don't get many hurricanes up there. They do get Nor'easters, which can be as devastating as a hurricane to both the beaches and the infrastructure. I do know one thing. If they get a storm this summer, or next winter, we're ready. And I'd be glad to go back and fly it again.

Chatham, Cape Cod, MA

Rain!

We got some... a little, well, not very much at all, really, but Rain! It lasted about 5 minutes and probably won't even register in a rain gauge. Tough. We got Rain! And north of us, like two counties north, they actually had flood warnings this afternoon. Famous Florida Thunderstorm in May. Very heavy and very stationary. Lasts 30 minutes, or an hour, and dumps five inches of rain in one spot. That is a you-can't-see-across-the-street heavy rain. A Florida staple. Unfortunately, it's been so long since we had any rain that most of that will probably just run off. The ground is too dry for it to sink in.

But not our rain... we didn't get enough to have it run off. Well, it did rain hard enough to run off the roof. But that's OK. It soaked in around the house. We have to start somewhere. I'll take the small showers.

Big summer thunderstorms start with mini May showers that pass briefly by.

Be Careful What You Wish For...

Friends? Well, maybe. We do keep catching them sitting together. Touching even.


Some days, Mara seems annoyed that Nyala is so close. Other days they are sound asleep, side by side.


Next thing you know Nyala's sleeping with her face buried in Mara's belly.

When Mara was young, she always wanted to be close to Tina. Tina never really wanted any part of it. Now the table is turned. Nyala wants to sleep with Mara. Mara, on the other hand isn't always so sure. Usually it starts with Mara sleeping somewhere. Nyala slips in, and snuggles up next to her. There's some grumping and swatting, but with luck, Nyala will settle in for a nap.


All too often it devolves quickly. Nyala was raised without a Mom-cat. She and Brother were left to themselves until they were six weeks old, with only a human-mom-surrogate. There was no one to tell them "don't jump on me (swat)" every time they woke up. So that's what they did. Every minute of every hour they were awake, they were chewing on one another. That's what kittens do. When Nyala came home, that's how she approached Mara, as a giant chew-toy, just like Brother. Mara was none too happy about that.

Things have gotten a little better since then.


Nyala still chews on Mara.


Sometimes she puts up with it for a a few minutes. In the end, Mara usually gets up and leaves. After all, with kittens, there is always some chewing before sleeping. Mara's patience has grown. She even chews back, sometimes.


In the meantime, there are chases around the house. Sometimes it's Nyala doing the chasing... and sometimes, with tail high and ears forward, it's Mara. I think she likes having someone to play with who is her own size. What's more, when the chasing is done, Mara has someone to nap with, if Nyala would only stop chewing on her.


So you get your wish, Mara. Sadly, you are the big cat now, and someone wants to sleep with you.


Maybe, one day, she might even learn some manners. And that wouldn't be all that bad... would it?

Hope...

Hope. It is why we are here tonight. Hope for others, hope for ourselves, hope for the future. It is a group none of us want to be part of, and yet, with each new member, we open our hearts, our arms and our lives. Hope walks around around this track all night. You can hear it in our voices. Hawkers calling wares to raise money. Babbles and games... Cakes and coffee. All for a good cause, the cause that brings us together at this time, on this night, for this purpose. In many places, on this night, there are walkers. In each place dark skies hover over lit fields. The lights, like a barrier against fear, comfort our hearts, warm our spirits and accompany our steps. We are many people, we have one purpose: Victory. And on the way to that victory we share love and companionship, support and strength, joy and peace, and sorrow for those who can no longer walk, those in whose place we walk together... with Hope for a Cure.

Back Yard Visitor...

We had (well, still have, while I write this) a visitor in the back yard this afternoon. He's sleeping in the Ficus tree, where there is all sorts of leaf litter and twigs, caught in the space between the trunks. Poor guy sounds like he has a cold, he's coughing and sneezing. The tree makes a nice nest for him. The neighbors dog woke him up. He's been out there for several hours now, just sleeping.
















This is his "night". I've never been that close to a sleeping raccoon before. Just like the cats, he's lying upside-down... and you could see his whiskers twitching. Makes you wonder what Raccoon dream about when they sleep.

Avian Paparazzi

A bald eagle is a marvelous creature. Especially in flight.

There is an eagle's nest on the way to work. It resides in a cemetery in St Petersburg, FL. At a time when our wild lands are disappearing, being torn down for development, this nest sits in a place where no one dare disturb it. Generations of guardians stand silent vigil, on sacred ground. In the middle of a city, calm prevails. The pair could not have picked a better spot. They laid their eggs on Dec 12. The stake out began then.



I had seen a number of pictures from a friend who had been visiting the nest. Finally I asked him where it was. Turned out I drive by all the time. I visited the nest for the first time on the morning of the coldest day of the year, before sunrise. It was worth it. The sky was clear and the moon a sliver in the brightening sky. One of the birds was perched in a dead pine tree a few yards from the nest's tree. He sat there, noble and graceful, waiting to greet the sunrise.










Since then I've stopped by once or twice a week. More often then not, one or another of the adults is perched nearby. Posing. At the beginning of February we stopped by the nest with visitors from Massachusetts. The sun was out, the pine tree the nest is in a striking green against the crystalline, cloudless, blue sky. When I offered to show our guests the nest, I had crossed my fingered that at least one of the adults would be there and visible. They didn't disappoint. In fact, both adults sat near or on the nest. About a dozen photographers stood on the ground near by, an assortment of lens pointed skyward, hoping to catch the perfect shot. Our visitors loved it. They had never seen an eagles nest, nor eagles that close.

Most days I visit the nest the adults are nearby, without feeling a need to be anywhere else. Generally this is good, because it gives me a chance to get a number of shots, and to sit an enjoy the view. It wasn't until a week ago I actually saw one of the fly off, on some errand only he understood. I didn't have the camera that day. I was going to have to come back.



Two days ago, I stopped by the nest on the way home from work. It was another crystal blue day. When I got to the nest site, two other photographers were there. Both of them had much larger lenses then I did. They looked like pros, and I felt a little like an amateur, hoping for a snapshot, while they were there for portraits. I didn't see anyone on the nest at first, but wandered over to the two fellows anyway. "Anybody home?" I asked. "You can see the chick..." and I could, from their vantage point. "... the adults should be back soon, they just flew off". I got a few pictures of the chick and waited, I didn't have any more then 5 minutes. Then it started, "Here he comes." one of them said, pointed east, and we were off like paparazzi snapping pictures of an approaching celebrity. Each one of us jockeying for position as he got closer, ducking behind trees on the way, dropping his feet for balance as he wheeled first right then left. My camera was set on multi-shot, full auto. Press and hold the shutter button, 3 frames per second, the camera does the rest. The sun was behind us. The light was perfect. 5 seconds later, 10 shots... with each one the eagle flew closer... He banked around an oak tree with a flash of great brown wings and I lost him. He was only checking on the nest.

There's always a tradeoff when watching life through the lens of a camera. You can miss the details right beside you while focusing only on what's in front. But sometimes, you can use that camera to get a different perspective. One you might not normally see. And find yourself a member of a group you never expected to join... hunting national symbols in a graveyard, through the lens of a camera, capturing the beginning of life, while you're surrounded by memories of the dead.

Found a Visa....

On my way over to the gym I found a visa card on the ground, on the sidewalk. Don't even remember the name. June Throughgood or something. I picked it up and looked around. No one near. I turned it in to the Director of the Gym, who checked his student list of Campus Activities Center users, then turned it over to campus police when he couldn't find her.

The card was unsigned. I've never been a fan of that. People claim that if the card is lost or stolen someone can't forge their signature from the one on the back of the card. Of course someone dishonest could then sign it and use it. Of course the signatures would match in that case. Not smart in my book. Stores don't check for a second ID if it's signed. They barely check the back anyway to see if its even signed to begin with, never mind if the signatures match even remotely. I've also seen people who "sign" the back of their card with "Check ID" or "Check Drivers License". Still not a sound practice in my book. Fake Id's are still easy to make. All it needs it to be convincing.

When I was working at a kiosk in the Mall I got a call from a credit card company investigating some fraudulent charges on a card that had passed through my cart. Strangely enough, I remembered the kid, maybe 17 or 18, and his friends. They were purchasing a necklace, somewhat pricey, but not overly so. I don't know what tipped me off to remember them. I think it was the fact that at the time, now more then 15 years ago, a teenager with a credit card was somewhat unusual. A teenager buying that particular necklace seemed a little out of place. So I looked at the signature closely. I remember thinking, it's a little off, but not that far. Who among us signs receipts exactly the same way as on the tiny back of the slippery plastic cards? I let it go through. I didn't think at the time to ask for another ID. Identity theft had not yet reached the epic proportions we "enjoy" today. When I got the call from the credit card company the woman on the other end was vaguely condescending, toward me, and a little racist toward the teenager. I made it clear I didn't share her view, of either of us. Turned out they had caught the kid. He'd stolen the card from an adult acquaintance. She was fishing for evidence to press charges. I told her I remembered him, and questioning the signature. I never did hear anything about it again.

When I found the card today, my first thought was "Oh, someone is going to be upset. They're going to be frantic..." I know, I've been there all too recently. It's not a nice feeling. It'll ruin your day. I considered calling the 800 number myself and reporting it "found" so that they could close the account. I figured that wouldn't work either. So I gave it to someone I figured would do the right thing with it. Wish I'd thought of the campus police myself. I will next time. Even if they don't find the owner of the card, at least I can feel good knowing I might have saved someone a lot of hassle from a misused card. Guess that's my good Samaritan deed for the day.... It's what I would want someone to do it they found my credit card on the sidewalk.