Storyteller's Rock

  We went to North Carolina for our 20th Anniversary, back to the same Inn we'd stayed at for our honeymoon.  We had a lovely time.  While we were there we got in some hiking.  One trail, the Nuwati Trial, on the Blue Ridge Parkway, lead up to a place called Storyteller's Rock.  I'm a geologist, let's go see the rock.  Now, I was expecting a big rock, but this was more then I had imagined.  

  Storyteller's Rock sits at the end of a 1.6 mile trail up a gentle mountain valley.   The trail was well marked and well traveled.  It crossed many a spring meltwater stream, tunneled through mountain laurel groves and crossed forest floors covered in princess pine.  The end of the trial was one of the steeper parts, but terminated at a campsite at the foot of a large outcrop, Storytellers Rock. 

  Standing approximately 40 feet, at best guess, above the ground on the downhill side, Storyteller's Rock has been split along an old faults that runs through it.  It was hard to tell without a fresh surface exactly what Storyteller's Rock was made of. and while the base had metamorphic characteristics, the top looked igneous, if not granitic.  

  The trail signs kept indicating a "view" and so harkening back to my younger geological days, I wandered through a large crack in the rock and started climbing.  While the slope behind the outcrop was steep, it was well vegetated, and to the best of my best "billy goat" nature, I scrambled up the slope and found my way to the top of the rock, with Edward pulling up the rear.  

  To my delight, there was the view, looking back across the valley we'd just climbed.  But there was more.  Across the top of this part of the rock, several parallel gouges scored the surface.  There is only one thing these could be.  Glacial striations.

  A glacial striation is a grove cut in the surface of a rock by another rock embedded bottom of the glacier's ice as it moves downhill.  They are commonly found on mountain tops in areas that were glaciated during the last ice age.  But we were in western North Carolina. The continental glacier did not reach this far south, and we were by no means at the top of the mountain.  

  The striations also indicate the direction that part of the glacier was moving.  Behind us the rose part of Grandfather Mountain.  It was no stretch to imagine an alpine glacier having formed above us, then flowed down into the valley below.  Here was proof of that glacier existence.  

  After we got back home I did a search online.  In 1973, L.A Raymond and J.O Berkland documented "glacial polish, grooves, and striations" at the headwaters of Boone's Fork.  They surmised that the glaciation occurred during the Pleistocene.  Confirmation.

  I know that I am not the first to see those long lost traces of a glacier that had passed across the top of that of Storyteller's Rock, possibly a little as 12,000 years ago.  My fingers will not be the last to trace the smooth grooves and look down the valley that had, in part, been carved by the glaciers passage.  Today that valley bears more of the v-shape indicative of being carved by countless streams flowing down it's heart.  But, these marks, hidden under the sun, tell a story of something greater that passed this way, leaving only a few telltale cravings behind, a story that can be heard, if only you know what to "listen" for. 

  

Talking it on the chin…

..literally.

 I got together with friends from my BC group the other day.  Elaine, who moved to Germany last year and was in town, and Terri from over in Tampa.  They came down to the USGS and I gave them a tour of the buildings.  Then we had lunch downtown at Moon Under Water, a nice British Colonial pub in downtown St. Petersburg.  

 Afterwards, I walked back to work.  It was beautiful day and supposed to be only a 15-minute walk.  One of the last cool days we’ll get before the summer closes in again and you start to melt the minute you walk out the door.  The walk was to be my exercise for the day.   But here’s the thing.  I didn't make it all the way back to work.  

 I was about two blocks away when I tripped on a raised sidewalk edge.  You know the kind.  It’d been pushed up by tree beside the road. Not much, only about an inch or so.  But it was enough.  A hard stub of the toe and I couldn't catch myself.  I went down.   Hard.  

  My first thought was, there goes my lunch.  I had been taking my leftovers back to work for the next day.  Second, there went my glasses skittering along the concrete.  My less-then-one-week-old glasses.  I also felt my mouth connect with the sidewalk.

 I sat up, without thinking about injuries, and looked down at the sidewalk. Drip, drip.  Oh Crap!  I pulled out my handkerchief and put it to my chin.  Yup, a fair amount of blood.  In addition that, the palms of both hands were scraped up.  I had scrapes on my chin and mouth, and I realized later that I had whacked my knee on the concrete.  I did not crack my teeth, thankfully, or bite my tongue.  Lord only knows how I didn’t.

 A very nice woman who lives in the apartment next to where I fell, came rushing out.  “Are you OK?  I heard you fall.  Don't get up.  How can I help?”  She was a retired kindergarten teacher.  All those caring instincts kicked in for her, which kicked in my first aid training.  Dumb to sit up without thinking.  But that was done already.  I decided to sit and wait and figure out if I was OK. She offered me a phone (because I didn't have mine!) and let me call the office, where I got hold of Chris to come rescue me.  I figured it wasn’t a good idea to finish walking back to the office.

 We had Molly take a look at my chin when we got back.  Molly is a former med-tech.  The question was not if it was OK, but what level of care to seek next (ER, Urgent Care, or CVS for butterfly sutures.)  We opted for Urgent Care and Chris drove me up to the one near work.  We figured that would take less time then the ER.  It gave me time to recover enough to drive myself home.  But it still took about 3 hours before we got back to the office.  

 My booby prize for this little adventure was 4 stitches in my chin.  Luckily, its somewhat under my chin, so even once it's healed the scar won't be that noticeable.  I’ve got a good lump there now that I’m hoping will go away with time.  My palms are healing nicely, the right healed quickly, though the left, because it was somewhat worse for wear, is taking a bit longer.  As for my knee, well, that may take a while longer yet to get back to normal.  I hit it pretty hard.

  And my glasses?  They survived, though I don’t know how.  Perhaps it was the way I landed.  Or perhaps I just sacrificed my chin to save them.  After all, the chin will heal.  The glasses won’t.

Lost... and Found

Poems written in an old notebook then lost… and found


Flood the moment with delicate beauty
  A vision shining as the sun through a diamond
   Recalls a thousand pictures.

  - June 3, 1996


  Felicia

  A child born different from us
   a girl, a daughter
    through magic you came to us
     one evening long ago.

  Now you have passed beyond us
   an angel on the wing
    remember us when you drink of life again and return

  Lest the sad ache remain forever with our missing you.

  - June 5, 1996


  An embrace
    Soft in the night
  Your touch
    Like mist on the wind
  So near
    Whispering just beyond understanding.

  - June 10, 1996


  Love lies there
      Silent and gentle
  Real and beyond reach
      Like a dream, gone with the dawn
  Leaving only memories, and heartache.

  - June 10, 1996


Alliteration

  Lazy laughter lingers long on the lake of life.
  Foolish friendships fly forever free.
  Secret smiles swim in the stream of a sunlight symphony, 
    pure as spring rain.
  Ready to sing again.

  - January 8, 1997

In to the next year...

 

  Another year has passed, one more circle around the sun…  I didn't get nearly as many posts up as I wanted.  When I started this blog, my goal was one a month.  I fell well short of that this year.  Perhaps next year will be better.  I'm not one to make resolutions, so we'll see.

  I spent most of my creative time this year doing a drawing-a-day.  And exercise that I didn't think I would be able to stick to.  On Thursday, Jan 2nd, I will have met that goal…  365 drawings, sketches or doodles.  I plan to keep drawing in the next year, but may not post every night.  It's time to get back to the Comic.  That will be my primary drawing concern.  You can see the year's sketches on The Aery, our joint blog (http://the-aery.blogspot.com/search/label/sketches).

  I also hope to get back to the photography, which has also fallen behind a little.

  We shall see…

  I hope the New Year finds all of you happy, healthy, and safe from the crazy ones out there…

  From here it's in to the next year…   All the best.
 

We now interrupt our regularly scheduled program….

September 30, 2013.  

Congress, or at least some therein, has decided that it is more important to do what they feel is best for their party, than what is best for their country.  That it is more important to tow-the-line of the rabid wing of their party than compromise for the good of everyone.  That it is better to shut the whole government down rather than move one inch, give one iota, or bend one branch.

  Both sides claim they are being reasonable.  Both claim they have offered compromises.  Both sides are saying their opponents are being inflexible while their rabid wings nod in glassy-eyed agreement.  Neither side will budge.

  So here we are.  

  At midnight, the government officially shuts down.  780,000 to 800,000 of us will find ourselves out of work, through no fault of our own, save the careers we chose to pursue.  We work hard, as hard as anyone else.  We don't like seeing money wasted any more then the next guy because, you know what, it is our tax dollars we're spending, too.  I, just like you, want every penny's worth for my tax dollar.

   We Feds are Americans, too, though some would have you believe otherwise.  We have families and homes and bills to pay, just like everyone else.  We have hopes and dreams and desires.  We are no different from you.  Really.  But starting at midnight tonight, there will be one difference between you and me.  You will have a job to go to in the morning.  And I will not.  Honestly, how would you like to be considered non-essential?  That will be my status tomorrow.  

  What will this political theater accomplish?  Not a lot that anyone will notice day to day.  Essential services will continue.  Social Security will be paid, mail will be delivered, food will be inspected.  Most Americans will hardly even notice a difference.  Unless they know one of us.  They might notice if they wish to visit a National Park, or get a passport.  For most of them, it will be a minor inconvenience, at worse.  For some of my colleagues, they will be wondering if they will be able to pay their rent.  

  And therein lies the one lever we Feds might have in this puppet theater.  It is not a lever we wield from choice, but of necessity and we do not wield it out of spite.  With no certain end visible on the horizon, many of us will hunker down and conserve our resources.  We will spend less, as we don't know for certain when our next paycheck will arrive.  As this show drags on, the economy will begin to drag.  You simply can't layoff 800,000 people and not expect to see an impact.  In one swift lack of action, Congress could drag our slow, lumbering economy back down the slope it has so recently struggled to climb.  It doesn't seem worth the risk.  

  Tomorrow I am required to go to work for four hours, to help with the "orderly shutdown of the government".  That is not time I will be paid for until a continuing resolution is signed.  I have no illusion an actual budget will be approved. The money I would have earned during normal operations will not go back into the economy because I will not have it.  The money I have now will stay where it is as I must conserve it should this be a prolonged shutdown.  And with the Debt Ceiling fight looming in the next few weeks, even a quick resolution to this crisis will not necessarily free my purse strings.  We could be right back here all over again very, very quickly.   

  What have I done to deserve this?  Nothing, save that I have chosen to work for the Federal Government, doing a job that no one would do in the private sector, because there is no profit in researching coastal hazards.  My chosen field seeks to understand where we are most vulnerable along our coastlines.  I feel that what I do can help someone stay safe during a storm.  I feel I can help people, and there is value in what I do.

  My thanks for this?  Furlough.  Because our elected officials are too narrow minded to understand compromise, I will bear the brunt of their disagreements.  For doing the best job I can, I am being sent home, without pay, to ponder choices that are not my own.

  Tell me, where is the justice in that?

Rough Weather

  As I was driving home this evening I noticed a lot of cars coming at me with their lights on.  In Florida, if your wipers are going, you're supposed to have your headlights on.  Most people forget to turn their lights off until they turn off their cars.

  I scanned the horizon for a dark curtain of rain below the clouds, but instead noticed that one tall thunderhead was draped in a gauzy white, sunlit curtain of rain falling from its highest reach.  Ah, there is it.  Someone is getting a sun shower…  Nice.

  By the time I got home, the edge of that curtain of rain was dripping lightly, but steadily, on the house.  

  Then the fun began….

  When the thunderhead producing the rain was met by a gust front moving up from the south, it began to pour heavily.  Edward and I had started grilling chicken for dinner as the rain increased.  Our grill is on the porch, thankfully undercover, so the grill was dry.  As the rain picked up it started to slant to the south.   I turned to Edward, and gestured in the direction of the rain.  But when I turned back, the rain was no longer slanting to the south.  Literally, in a matter of seconds, the rain had shifted from slanting to the south, to slanting to the north. I blinked, Edward said "oh shit".  He'd seen this before, in April 2010.   

  The wind was picking up more and now the rain, which had initially been blowing the other way, was blowing onto the porch and onto the grill, which steamed as the rain now falling on it evaporated.  The trees and plants in the ditch swayed ominously.   

  In April of 2010, a front moved down from the northwest, with heavy rains and strong winds.  As the front made landfall we got a tornado warning.  Radar indicated tornadic activity offshore of Largo, moving east.  Toward the house.  I tried to call Edward from work, but what I didn't know was that lightening had struck the streetlight outside the house 15 minutes earlier.  Our phone line was fried and the power was out.  Edward, with nothing else to do, stood watching it rain out the back window.  First to the north, then to the south then from the east.  All in less than a minute.  Then the tree branches started falling.  A tornado had passed approximately a half mile north of the house.  The rapidly shifting winds were the only indicator Edward had as to what was going on.   

  Tonight, as Edward watched the shifting winds, I got out the computer.  The National Weather Service monitors storm clouds with doppler radar, generating a map called the radial velocity.  Clouds approaching the radar are colored red, while those moving away are colored green.   Usually, between the bright red and green areas, there are fainters colors.  When you see two bright opposing colors side-by-side that usually means bad things.  Tonight, that spot was right over us.   Strangely, there were no tornado warnings, not even a severe thunderstorm warning, only urban flood warnings.  That fit as 20 minutes after it started we had 1.25 inches of rain in our gauge.

  By the time the chicken had finished, the winds had shifted to the north again, and calmed down significantly.  The grill was no longer getting rained on.  The areas of red and green on the radial velocity map had started to separate and moved north and offshore.  It was still raining, but things were much quieter.  

  We finished dinner in peace and continued on with the rest of our evening.  I'm still surprised that not even a severe thunderstorm warning had been issued.  That's the problem with knowing how to read those maps.  They can scare scare the shit out of you.  But mostly, I'm glad there was no damage.  A small branch came down in the back yard, nothing of any significance.  I'll pick it up in the morning when I walk the yard before work.  In the meantime, both of us can't help but wonder about this year's weather.  It seems like this area has seen more then its fair share of tornados and waterspouts.  And we're not done yet.  Hurricane season has begun to stretch it's legs as we approach the peak of the season next week.  Only time will tell if we are in for more rough weather.

At The End Of The Day...

The sun slips slowly below the western horizon. The sky dims from a rich cerulean, toward indigo and then black. Wispy clouds paint it yellow and orange, before fading to gray. The moon is poised in the east, waiting for its moment to rise.

 The cicadas start up their nightly chorus. A low hum that rises and falls, punctuated by the challenges of the frogs.  Their peeps and croaks starting slowly at one end of the of the ditch, rising to a near deafening cacophony as more join in the skirmish, before quietly fading in the other direction, the sound marching off to other ponds and mudholes in the approaching dark.  

  A single whippoorwill calls out his territory way out in the park.  No one answers him this time.  They're almost done for the season.   They start calling in February and continue through July, though once I heard one in August.

  No sign of the owl or coyotes in the park this evening… so far. Perhaps they, too, are done for the season. There is a dog backing in the distance.  No one answer him either.

  It is humid, though there has been no rain today.   You don't need rain any day for it to feel like a sauna.  Not that we haven't had our share this month.  The lawn is actually greening up, in stead of browning while waiting for the summer storms to start.  This year they have started early.  There is water to spare.  At least here.  

  In the morning the process will reverse itself.  The sky will brighten, the frogs and cicadas will slowly quiet and the whippoorwill will settle down for his daily nap.  Perhaps we'll get rain.  Come sunset, it will begin again, as twilight passes and night falls across the land.

  Such is a late July evening in Florida at the end of the day.