Category Archives: Weather +Climate

Happiness is low total cholestrol and high HDL

19  bar steady  29.95  0mph ENE  windchill 16  Samhain

Waxing Gibbous Moon of Long Nights      Day   8hr 50m

Moved more snow this am.  My third favorite internal combustion engine and I hit the slopes this morning (our sloping driveway, that is) blowing yesterdays fluffy stuff away from the driveway and onto the yard.  Over time this process can create impressive snow  walls along the driveway, but none so high so far that the arc of snow our Simplicity puts out can’t clear it.

Then on to the grocery store for baking supplies.  Kate is in hyper-cookie drive.  We have cookies of this kind and cookies of this kind and cookies of prize winning kinds.  I have cookies, especially cookies of the sugar cookie kind, currently at work becoming part of my body.

Speaking of my body.  Got my lab results back from my physical.  Total cholestrol 144 and hdl 46 (highest ever).  All other numbers were, in the words of my physician, “Great.”  This made me happy.

Missed my nap on Friday and Saturday.  Took a two hour nap yesterday, then went to bed at 10:30 last night (I’ve turned that corner) and got up at 7:45.  Guess those two days made me need the sleep.

Now I’m outside for the last–the very last–of the mulch.

A Magical Effect

26  bar steep fall 29.56  0mph NE  windchill 26   Samhain

First Quarter Moon of Long Nights       Day  8hr 53m

At last snow has begun to fall.  Already we must have gotten an inch or so and it may well snow through the night.  I have the patio light on so I can watch it fall.  The reindeer, lit with white l.e.d. lights, turns its head back and forth, its wire frame body now sketched in fluffy snow.  The lit holly and berries on the patio table also have snow cover, the lights blinking up through small mounds of white.  We only have lights in the back and few at that.   They do a touch of whimsy to the long winter nights.

A gentle snow has a magical effect on the heart as well as the landscape.  It is one of mother nature’s outright expressions of joy.

Tomorrow I have agreed to go to a workshop on dismantling racism as I wrote earlier.   When I was in seminary, I participated in anti-racism training seminars run by James and Mary Tillman.  I even traveled to Atlanta and went a weekend long seminar with students from Morehouse University, one of the south’s premier black colleges.  With Wilson Yates, a professor of sociology at United Theological Seminary, we created an anti-racism training kit complete with videos for rural congregations.  At one point I worked with a professional program evaluation company, Rainbow, and evaluated the work of the James and Mary Tillman programs in various institutions.

Institutional racism and the unearned advantage of being white and male have been part of my political analysis ever since.  That first round of work was now over thirty years in the past.  It is a testimony to the intransigence and institutional nature of racism that now another generation has taken up the fight.

Part of me does not look forward to a long day on a difficult and unpleasant subject while another part of me is eager to get back to practical, political work on the issue.  We’ll see how it goes.

Kate’s neck bothers her today.  She has improved a lot in the last three weeks, but she has quite a ways to go before she can go back to her full time work schedule.

One-Hour Thanksgiving Meal

21  bar steady 30.04  0mph NNW  windchill 21  Samhain

New Moon (Moon of the Long Nights)

Kate produced a wonderful, one-hour Thanksgiving meal.  Cornbread stuffing, turkey breast with a chili-rub and an herbal seasoning under the skin, mashed potatoes, our own green beans (canned) and sweated mushroom gravy. She explained sweated, but it passed over my head.  I was already in to the green beans and the cornbread stuffing.

Tomorrow she wants to watch the Macy’s Parade because of her home town of Nevada, Iowa will have a horse team in it, someone her sister, BJ, knows.  Pretty exciting.

I’m going to try an earlier bedtime again.  Surely I can reset my body clock.

Happy Thanksgiving to you all.

Blow, Snow, Blow

35  bar falls 29.87  Omph NE  windchill 35  Samhain

Waxing Gibbous Dark Moon

Another aspect of northern living involves snowblower maintenance.  Each November those of us with long driveways go out into the garage, poke around until we find the 2-stage beast that will work with us through the winter.

Start it.  Hmmm.  That’s good.  It runs.

Oil can to its tin-man parts.  The rotating blower (the second stage), worm oil in the auger’s worm gear (the first stage), oil at various other points where metal grates against metal in the service of snow removal.

Ooops.  There’s a mostly frayed wire leading to the snow deflector.  Not critical.

Rust has bloomed over the snowblowers 15 year service here.  With a wire brush and scraper the paint flakes away and the surface of the rust becomes smoother.  A spray of paint here and there covers the rust with a paint designed to mitigate oxidation.

Check the oil.  In this the oil hits the full top of the dip-stick.  It looks clean.  So, we’re ready for winter to do its worst.

Just as soon as we get gas.

A Pain in the Neck

23  bar rises 30.24  omph NNW  windchill 22  Samhain

Waxing Crescent of the Dark Moon

Change is the future invading the present…  Alvin Toffler

Ready to head outside for some more garden work.  A clear, bright day with a chill in the air.  Good outside working conditions.

Lost sleep last night.  No reason.  Just woke up at 5:30AM and could not get back to sleep.  Oh, well.

Kate got the report back on her cervical verterbrae and the news is not good, though not much different than what we expected.  It highlights the severity of the problem with which she’s labored for so long now.  Now, a few more tests and an appointment with the neurosurgeon.

Life.  It goes on whether you are ready or not.

Reading

82  br falls 29.82 2mph NNW dew-point 63  sunrise 6:22  sunset 8:02  Lughnasa

Waning Gibbous Corn Moon

Started “The Street” last night. It is by Ann Petry.  I found it while hunting for good books on the novel.  A literature professor recommended it as a gritty, realist account of life in Harlem circa 1947, or post-WW II, a neglected work of genius.  After the first chapter, I can see she was right.  It is literally gritty, opening with a young woman looking for an apartment on St. Nicholas Avenue in a vicious wind that throws dust and sand from the gutters into her eyes.  She wants the apartment to save her brother, Bub, who is 8, from her father’s girlfriend who gives Bub gin.

Further into “Maus” and it continues to amaze me, not only with the detailed account of the author’s father and mother and their extended family during the years preceding WW II and the war years, but with the uncomfortable honesty with which he portrays his father and his second wife, Mala.  This contemporary honesty seems to underwrite the veracity of the European story.

Late afternoon and the sky has become cloudy.  The transpiration cycle bundles moisture from the plants and the soil, the lakes and rivers and pumps up, up, up until it meets the air transports dew point.  It then goes in to clouds and, if conditions are just right, thunderheads form and the water returns, perhaps to the same place, perhaps somewhere else.

An Existential Chill

66  bar steady 30.06  1mph NE dew-point 48  sunrise 6:09 sunset 8:27  Lughnasa

First Quarter of the Corn Moon    moonrise 1533  moonset 2334

We will never be an advanced civilization as long as rain showers can delay the launching of a space rocket.  George Carlin, RIP

The drum tower in Beijing.  Anyone who’s gone on the one week quickie tour of Beijing and environs has at least had a chance to climb it.  As early as the Han dynasty (206bce to 220ace), these towers used drums and bells to mark dawn and dusk. Kate and I climbed the drum tower when we visited Beijing in 1999. (I think it was 1999.)  I recall it as a dusty place with open areas used for storage, like an old barn.  Three stories high it had a commanding view of a market and one of the old style Beijing neighborhoods.  We were there at the end of December and the drum tower was cold in the way only bare, featureless spaces can be cold.  A sort of existential chill.  Maybe Kate didn’t go up, I do not remember now.

The death of Todd Bachmann, CEO of the premier garden center corporation in the Twin Cities, shocked me.  Many of our plants started their life at Bachmann’s.  Long ago in another life I was in a year long class with a Bachmann who had chosen the Lutheran ministry.  Then, too, there is the somehow stronger link with the site itself.

So often when events happen abroad, they happen in a place that is at best abstract:  Darfur, say, or Baghdad, Ossetia, even Jerusalem.  Once you have been there, walked those streets, seen the heaped up spices and vegetables in the market near the drum tower, then what happened is no longer abstract or far-away because the context is available to your own sensorium.  My feet recall the climb in the cold December weather.  My eyes recall the sights of the market and the small shops.

A strange sense of lassitude has come over me today.  On Sunday I do not work out, so there is a feeling of expansiveness, but also relaxation, a similarity to the sabbath.  The weather is perfect, moderate, sunny, low dew-point.  A great day to work outside, but digging out the firepit seems to have used up that motor for right now.  Even so, I’ll probably pick up the spade and spading fork and begin removing day lilies to new locations.

This is a task that has a window, a window created by the ideal time to transplant iris, August.  In this way my time must conform to the garden.  It is a happy bondage, though, and one to which I willingly submit.

It Forces Me Into the Present

60  bar steady 30.03 0mph NNW dew-pooint 54  sunrise 6:06  sunset 8:31  Lughnasa

First Quarter of the Corn Moon    moonrise 1219  moonset 2200

If you’ve ever wondered why I put all this weather and astronomical data first, good question.  The immediate answer is because I can.  My weather station gives me all the top line data with the exception of the Celtic calendar period, but I know those by heart now.  The moon names fascinate me so I have several lists of names from all the over world, and I choose one that feels right for the next month.  The lists that usually have the one I want are the Celtic, medieval English, and neo-Pagan, although I always feel a little strange with the last one because I don’t understand the roots.  The moonrise and moonset I got from a Naval Observatory website that creates a list for your location.

The secondary answer lies in weather history.  When I read back over my entries, I want to know what the conditions were like on the day in question.  Again, you ask, why?  Sometimes for gardening reasons.  Sometimes to jog my memory.  Sometimes just for fun.

The tertiary answer, though it may be the primary one, is this: it forces me into the present, right down to the temperature and barometric readings.  I like the reminder that this moment is this moment and no other.  Right now is right now.

Kate’s in Denver.  The dogs are asleep and the HD box has a so-so sci-fi movie on record so I can finish when and if I want.

A wonderful night and a good looking day tomorrow.  See you then.

Qin Shi Huang Di

67  bar steady 29.97  0mph NNW dew-point 58  sunrise 6:04  sunset 8:34  Lughnasa

Waxing Crescent of the Corn Moon

Last night I stood outside for a while and listened to the wind rustle the leaves of the poplars and oaks, an invisible hand caressing these giants.  Tonight stars dot the sky and the air is quiet, the temperature a cool 66 (dropped a temp since I added the info. bar above.)  These nights, summer nights, have stories that reach back in time, memories of cars pulling into neon lit drive-ins, dances in school gymnasiums and midnight rides through the countryside seeking bliss.  A special place, the summer night.

Heresy Moves West will have two parts, I see no other way unless I perform drastic surgery on the introductory material, now seven and a half pages.  My plan is to finish the second half, the stories and threads of thought that directly result in the building of liberal congregations in Minnesota.  This is, of course, the assignment I originally gave myself, but I did not know then the complex of political, theological, institutional and intellectual lines necessary to make the story comprehensible at anything more than a superficial, potted history level.  After I finish part II, then I’ll see what can be done with the whole.

The last piece of the whole considers the future, projecting a possible trajectory for the liberal faith tradition in a time of what I perceive as thinness and altogether too disparate a theological base.  Here I will begin to answer the problem I addressed in my late night post August 3rd.  Ideas have come to me of late and I have a way to go forward, at least one that makes sense to me.

In the build up to the Olympic Games the History Channel and National Geographic have run programs on Qin Shi Huang Di, the unifier and first emperor of China (Qina).  His story makes for conflicted reading or watching since he brought the dreadful warring states period to an end by subduing the seven larger states that had survived.  He also standardized weights and measures, the width of axels, coinage, language and law.  As Chinese history developed after him, both the unification and these measures of standardization contributed to China’s long continuity in culture.  In these ways he is the father of China.

He was, however, a cruel man who killed millions to achieve peace.  He killed at least a million more building the Great Wall and at least hundreds of thousands building his mausoleum. The legal system he instituted was draconian and ran against the grain of the Confucian thought world that preceded him.  His dynasty lasted only one generation beyond his and even that, from his perspective was a failure since he spent the last years of his life in a desperate search for an elixir of immortality.