A Long When Ago

Samhain                                                        Thanksgiving Moon

A gamma burst within 3.7 billion light years of home.  Close, in astronomy’s scale of distance.  That is, it was not so far away that the distance the light traveled to get here puts it back in the time of the early universe, the formation phase.  Hard to grasp sometimes, that astronomy measures time in the metric of distance, but 3.7 billion light years is not only a long ways away, it’s also a very long when ago.

Said another way, the light of this massive gamma burst traveled 3.7 billion years to get here.  How do we know?  Because light, the fastest thing in the universe, takes a year to travel a certain distance and we know what that distance is.  It so happens that because we take a measure of time and out of it create a measure of distance that we can also know the when.

In case you were wondering:  186,000 miles/second * 60 seconds/minute * 60 minutes/hour * 24 hours/day * 365 days/year = 5,865,696,000,000 miles/year

OK, I thought.  But how do we know how many light years away something is?  I looked it up and the method for things further than 3.6 light years away is called the standard candle method.  Here’s a brief paragraph to describe how it’s used, then a graphic that I found helpful.

“One example of a standard candle is a type Ia supernova. Astronomers have reason to believe that the peak light output from such a supernova is always approximately equivalent to an absolute blue sensitive magnitude of -19.6. Thus, if we observe a type Ia supernova in a distant galaxy and measure the peak light output, we can use the inverse square law to infer its distance and therefore the distance of its parent galaxy.”  from this website.

this graphic is from the hyperphysics website:

 

 

Holiseason Begins to Put the Pedal Down

Samhain                                                              Thanksgiving Moon

We’re in that pre-holiday time when the air begins to take on a certain quality.  It’s part hope for a Thanksgiving (this time) that we both recall and imagine, a desire for an ideal time with family, with busyness, with good food and good memories made.

There are those other times, the times before, when the magazines had turkeys in their ads and the Whitehouse spared a turkey.  This year it will be a Minnesota turkey.  The times when we all had to put on our Sunday clothes even though it was Thursday and drive to an Aunt’s or to Grandma’s or to a friends.  Football and stuffing, a browned turkey and mashed potatoes.  Too many people around a too small table.  That drowsy, sleepy feeling, a tryptophan haze.  The turkey drug.

Those times mesh with hope, give it a flavor, a scent, a sound, a cast.  Those are, for me at least, good memories.  They give the time, this time, a pleasant before hand buzz, a family inflected smile.

This is holiseason.  It has these moments one after the other.  Times when others and the world of commerce and the world of religion and the world of small children all begin to bang into each other, making the world merry.  Yes, it’s chaotic and capitalistic. No doubt of that.  But it’s also fun, filled with good songs and lights.  Gifts and cold weather.  At least here.  Not so much in Singapore and Muyhail.

To all of you headed over the hills and through the woods.  Have fun.  Eat too much.  Laugh a lot.  Drive safely.

 

The Groove

Samhain                                                                Thanksgiving Moon

Usually I break up my day into chunks:  writing, translating, learn something new. Right now that means Missing, version 5.0, Ovid: Lycaon’s story and Dramatica, the writing software. After that I work out, eat supper, watch some TV, usually a British detective show these days and, following Kate’s going to bed, I read.  During the growing season I might plant or tend the bees, do something with the fruit trees, check how plants have grown, spray or put down a soil drench in the Ag Labs program.  And there’s always the garage.

Today was different.  I got into Missing and found a groove, a revisionary groove.  It kept lighting up the aha board in my head, so I followed it, working longer than normal at writing, in fact, working the whole day.  That’s usually hard to do, makes my head ache after a while, but not today.  No idea why.  Still, I’ll take it.  I’m getting closer to the end of this fifth revision.  I want to finish it before the first of December.

Back in the S.A.

Samhain                                                        Thanksgiving Moon

Brother Mark is settling into Muyhail, Saudi Arabia.  He said it has a back of beyond sort of feel and its location makes that no surprise.  I posted this map a while ago, but here it is again.

Muyhail is in Asir province and shares a border with Yemen.  It’s also not far from the Red Sea though a long ways from the Suez Canal.  What it’s very close to is the Rub Al Kahli, the famed empty quarter that is the desert of Arabian Nights’ fantasies. And mine, too, for that matter.

He’s teaching in a Basque owned company providing technical college students an opportunity to learn English.  Tip of the hat to brother Mark for finding a new position in the land of oil and sand.

Two Racks

Samhain                                                          Thanksgiving Moon

Today I needed to find a rack of lamb, something our local butcher at Festival Foods said she “…couldn’t get until the week before Christmas.”  After assuring me that neither her suppliers nor any local grocers stocked such an exotic piece of meat, she concluded with sorry I couldn’t help you.

Well.  I got on the web, went to the Byerly’s website, ordered a rack of lamb, 2 in fact, some italian sausage and a nice brie.  Then I noticed they would deliver.  I chose that option and will get those items plus a couple more delivered to our home on Saturday morning.  Food, delivered.  From a grocery store.  I knew it was happening, but I’d never tried it before.  We’ll see how it goes.

The whole process was over ten minutes after the Festival butcher said she couldn’t help. The problem for brick and mortar operations is their vulnerability to better service available with little or no friction on the part of the buyer.  Who knows, I may buy food more often this way.

A trip over to Byerly’s in Maple Grove would take an hour to an hour and a half plus.  This accomplishes the task with literally no travel on my part.  That’s a good deal and worth money, both in time and car cost.  Yes, there’s a delivery fee of $10, but that’s less than the trips cost to me.

Not sure I would ever want to buy groceries entirely on line, but I might.  I’ve just never done it until now.  Maybe it makes the most sense.   The cyber links we have at our fingertips are changing the most mundane tasks in ways we couldn’t have predicted.  Some good, some bad.

By that I mean some that make things work better for us, others make things work worse for us.  The latter group includes, at a minimum, the invasive intelligence gathering carried out by not only the NSA but by corporate interests of all sorts, not just google.

 

Raggedy Days

Samhain                                                         Thanksgiving Moon

It’s been a raggedy couple of days sleep wise and that throws the rest of my rhythm off. We’re getting ready for Kate’s trip to Denver and my stay at home week with the dogs, too. That always mean chores need to get done with a bit more urgency, so sometimes they take precedence over the main work.

Even so, I got some good work in on Missing this morning and read through a fascinating chart about how Dramatica develops its story aids, how the aids nest one inside the other like Russian dolls.  Very complex.  It will take a while to learn, but it will add important layers to my novels before I begin writing.

I also translated verses I researched yesterday.  Didn’t get any further but I did get them done.  These are interesting because Ovid is playing some kind of political game with Augustus, comparing him and his courtiers to Olympus and the council of the gods.  I say interesting because the end game is Ovid’s exile from Rome to Tomi in what is present day Romanian Constanta.  Which I visited two years ago.

The Journey and the Moon

Samhain                                            Thanksgiving Moon

The last two nights the Thanksgiving Moon has hung like a pale lantern behind the clouds. The moon draws out of me such tender feelings, yearnings.  Maybe it’s the corollary of the old lover’s cliche, we’re seeing the same moon tonight.

What crosses my mind are all those long ago relatives, bearers of my genetic markers, on the trip out of Africa.  They may have moved on nights like these when the moon was full. Or, would they have huddled around the campfire, wary of predators who saw better in the gloom?

In either case they would have looked at the same moon unchanged from the time they began to move on that most ancient human trail.  Unchanged, that is, until July 20, 1969, a hot night in Muncie, Indiana when my flickering black and white pulled in the live–live–signals of Neil Armstrong setting a space-suit (space-suit!) boot on the lunar surface.

What a journey, if you think about it, from that trek across northern Africa, up into what we now know as the Middle East, to that boot touching down on the eons long undisturbed (by other than passing meteoroids) moon.  Even now when we look at the moon it appears the same as it did then.  Really, it’s only our knowledge that has changed, not the way it looks at night.

It pleases me to think of those, my people, in this season of the year, somewhere perhaps in a temperate latitude after thousands of years of journey, feeling a November wind chill in their face and what would become my Thanksgiving moon overhead.

Conservative

Samhain                                                             Thanksgiving Moon

 

Max Beckman’s “Blind Man’s Buff” is one of the highlights of the MIA’s collections.  His tryptychs are a wonder and the MIA’s may be the best of the batch.  Here’s the fun part. It’s about to undergo conservation and this conservation will not be hidden away in the sub-basement devoted to the Midwest Art Conservation Center, but done right in the gallery over the next few months.

This is an extraordinary opportunity to learn about this painstaking, delicate and sophisticated aspect of museum life.  I’ve had the opportunity to tour the Center twice and heard lectures from them at other times.  Most museum goers don’t know of its existence, I imagine, but it got special attention during the design of the Grave’s Target Wing.  It needed it.  Before it had been jammed into rooms and spaces not being used by the MIA.

Its print and paper conservation room had the most peculiar space up a short flight of stairs and entered through a half-height door.  Here’s an odd bit of history.  An MIA museum guard wrote a successful movie that had this door as a key conceit:  Being John Malkevich. If you saw the movie, you’ll recall that actors entered his brain through a tiny door.

Conservation and restoration are tricky concepts in the world of art and antiquities, the current era different from the near past and very different from the times before that.  In the near past conservation and restoration had a bad time because earlier conservators had sometimes chopped up paintings to fit new frames, filled in colors or removed layers of paint to show an underpainting.  In buildings like those at Angkor the previous era of restoration fixed the buildings, tuning them up to the then current understanding of what they would have looked like.  In both instances conservators and restorers often used permanent materials that could not be distinguished from the original and/or modified the original in substantial ways.

The near past’s reaction against that was to leave objects in their found state, to eschew all but the most necessary (particularly in painting and sculpture) interventions.  The current thinking is to restore, if necessary and deemed advisable, only in concert what the very best investigative work can determine consonant with the original.  And then, here’s a key move, to use only materials easily identified as added and also easy to remove without causing harm to the work or the building.  This allows restorations to reproduce a work’s original look in a way that preserves the artist’s original intent, yet not to alter the original in ways that cannot be undone and undone without injuring the work.  Scholarship in the future may change the view of the object.

We had a large painting conserved by them a few years ago after we ripped it during renovation of our kitchen and living room area.  It was not cheap, but neither was the painting.  They treated our painting with as much care as they would a museums.  The result was quite impressive.  You’d never know it was done.  Which in this case was the point.  They cleaned it, too.

 

 

Tea in the Mail

Samhain                                                         Thanksgiving Moon

A short morning since I slept in till 8:30.  Not usual.  I usually get up between 7:00 and funincular10007:30 am after a bed-time of 11:30.  Last night I was up until 11:50.  Not sure why I needed the sleep, but I did.  So, I’m alert.  That’s good.

An hour plus working on Missing.  I described Hilgo, a harbor town in the realm of the Holly King.  I used memories of Valparaiso, Chile, (see my photo) giving Hilgo a bi-level appearance with a large wharf.

Got my first shipment of teas from Verdant Tea, a 3 oz. a month club that sends out seasonally apt teas in 1 oz. increments.  They also include brewing instructions.  Since I spend so much time at the computer, the gong fu cha method of brewing works very well.  Today I got a black, and two oolongs along with information about the farmer and their operation for each of them.  All Chinese.

The first one I’m going to try is Qilan Wuyi Oolong.  This picture is a tea farm in the Wuyi mountains, famous in Chinese landscape paintings.

Now I’m back after the nap, ready to hit the Ovid.

The Next Ice Age

Samhain                                                          Thanksgiving Moon

A beautiful day outside.  Cerulean sky dotted with torn off candy cotton chunks of cumulus.  A bright sun.  Now all we need is snow.  As this winter bears down on us, even though slowly, I find myself occasionally feeling sad about the children of Minnesota future who will not know the onset of deep winter, cold that makes you stand up straight and say, Oh.

They will know, I realized, the long nights of winter still.  Global warming has no effect on the tilt of the earth, but it seems strange to think of the Winter Solstice night coming in Minnesota and not needing a parka to be out celebrating it.  They will not, of course, no any different, it will be for them the way things have always been.  Who’s to say that will be bad?  At least from an emotional perspective.

Then again the Holocene has encompassed the rise and rise of humans from veldt to the glacier1000moon and it is only 11,000 plus years old.  We take it as normal.  Really, it’s just an interglacial, as geologists call the warm periods beyond the periodic advances of the ice sheets that define an ice age.

The last one is not completely over as this shot I took in the Chilean fjords shows.

It’s easy to forget that the interglacials are the exception and ice cover the rule over the last couple of million years .  The normal interglacial lasts around 10,000 years and we’re overdue for a change.

Yes, global warming will put off the next ice age, but eventually fossil fuels will either all be burned or we will have stopped burning them.   Then, the atmosphere will lose carbon by its reabsorption into the oceans and back into carbonate minerals. (T.C. Cook, MIT Technology Review, Global warming versus the next Ice Age)  At that point the subtle effects of Jupiter and Saturn will elongate our orbit again and the sun’s energetic contribution to the northern climates will decrease.  Then, the ice sheets will come creeping back.  And too soon in my book.