We saw a sun pillar last night. A sun pillar is like the opposite of seeing the sun set over the sea. Instead of a shimmering golden reflection extending downward/forward in the water, a sun pillar is produced from the reflection of crystals in the air high in the sky, which make a golden reflection extending upward in the sky:
Above the sun pillar, we saw a dazzling Venus and the moon, about 10 degrees apart. You can check your eyesight, because if you can discern that Venus is in crescent phase, you have exceptional eyesight. And I wanted to check that out, because to me last night Venus looked peculiarly horny. I will check it out again though to see if I was just wishfully thinking. Venus looks so bright in crescent phase because it is getting so much closer to us. Its apparent size in the sky is at least twice in diameter at its closest in comparison when it is furthest away. And all this Venus talk is exciting, for we are gearing up toward the last Venus transit of this century (coming to us in June). And yes, a Venus transit happened 8 years ago, but that's how they roll. Eight years apart every 105 years.
And finally, more birds. Months ago I observed a strange new bird. After searching for something that would appear like a dragon tail, I gave up my search, deciding that I must have perceived something that I didn't really perceive. But now I am considering that mystery solved, when Bonnie told me about her discovery of the Texas bird of paradise also known as a scissor-tailed flycatcher.
I believe this is the bird I saw. In flight and other times the bird does more splendid things with its tail feathers. It is not that uncommon in these parts, but uncommon enough to not see them very often. Another bird mystery solved thanks to my dear spouse.
Once again I am proud to announce the birth of a new niece, Chessidy Light. And I can appreciate the allusion to Hebrew חסד (chesed) which is loving kindness, or love, or kindness, or, in some sense, a name of God. And come now, from those who brought you Ila Vieu, we also cannot ignore the nod to the great game of chess, a delight to learn and play. This all went down on the tragic day of 4.20; but henceforth may this day ever shine in memory of this new life born into the world:
Happy Birthday niece!
Many of you probably read Bonnie's blog, so you know, probably, that we went to Houston's Batfest recently. The next week I was waiting out at the bus stop by my school for an unusually long time. But I am glad to have been waiting, because I became introduced to a box, swoop, or otherwise flock of chimney swifts that were flying around that day after school. It was a curious sight. There were a dozen or so--not nearly the size of the flock you can view below. I noticed their curious flying, which actually is quite bat-like in their flitting and of course in their swallow-like or kite-like way of quick aerial maneuvers. In fact I had to analyze closely to distinguish the birds from bats, because they also peeped and chirped in the way that just a few evenings before I had witnessed from thousands of bats. I could distinguish a clear bird wing pattern though when they flew, the angle opening to the aft, the wings swept slightly back. I did not know, offhand, what bird this was but felt determined to find out.
The priority of my determination left something to be desired, because when I got on the bus and continued to read Nada, my current Spanish book in English I am reading thanks to Edith Grossman, then arriving home and then going off to teach my evening class, and then getting back and playing with the tots and eating dinner and spending time with Bonnie, I did not think again of the mystery birds.
Not until a day or so later when Bonnie, out of the blue, to me, remarked on the chimney swift--she'll have to fill in the details of what brought the bird to mind. Bells started ringing and dots connecting and I knew soon after that yes, this was indeed the bird I was introduced to just a day or so prior. Below you can see what bats look like and what swifts look like as well.
The bats:
A box of swifts:
You would think that this would be enough bird talk for one blog, but no. We had a killdeer experience yesterday at a museum that reminded me of my childhood. At the old farmhouse, and I am talking about the one near Eden when I was a young child, we first learned about killdeers when some nested out back. The bird is fairly prevalent in the irrigated fields of southern Idaho, but when I was really young, I learned that their nesting was done on the ground, and that the parents have a peculiar tactic of pretending to be lame to distract predators away from the nest. As a boy, I was curious about the eggs, and recall a stiff reprimand by my father for bothering some birds who were cheeping desperately at the bipedal monster who was not fooled by their lame-wing foolery.
Yesterday, at the museum, two bird parents were similarly desperate because they, too, were pestered incessantly by bipedal monsters, for their nest was in the landscaping of a parking lot. And we were able to identify the nest, and not meaning to bother the parents, we wanted to spy on the two hatchlings and remaining egg, which were so well disguised I am sure I could show you the photo and you would look right at it and not see anything remarkable. But while the parents were trying to lure away the bipedal monsters, a grackle which no doubt has in his bird brain an opportunity at fresh chick flesh came swooping in. You can imagine the terror and horror, not only of the killdeer parents as they realized the vulnerability of their little ones, but of me and my dear wife also as our human brains pieced together nature's scheme and dismayed at the thought of losing our own precious hatchlings. Moreover, I felt that I didn't learn well enough the lesson from 30 years ago as I then heard the piercing desperate calls of the killdeer. But to clarify, the grackle didn't eat the killdeers at this time. I'm explaining to you because you looked nervous. Because we can stop now if you want. Oh, I can tell a little more? Well, the story is over. The grackle came, one killdeer raced back to the nest at the right moment, the bipedal humans--with mortality fresh in mind--got in their white van and left. It was more a spectacle for the human parents, in this case, than the human children, which were already buckled up.
And finally, I cannot catch you up-to-date without mentioning my glee at finding a project of the esteemed Theodore Zeldin online: the Oxford Muse. Many of you know his book, An Intimate History of Humanity, is a work I've touted over the years and not without fervor. I found myself beside myself talking with him about work on a project with him that I will at a later date disclose more fully.
Biryani, well that's a spicy Indian dish. But I couldn't think of another b-i-r word that had to do with Professor Zeldin. I liked birefirgence, but didn't want to get too wordy on account of making a connection. Biryani. Yum.
Until the other day I was my mother-in-law's only son-in-law. But now I am in a club of two. Sure, I will always probably be the handsomer of the two, but I think I will respectfully defer to the black superior beardedness of my new brother. Yes, I have been more bearded than he, for I have worn my beard shamelessly for longer, and have shorn it only seldomly. But there is no question about this: When I walked down the aisle to be married, no facial hair was involved. Unless you count sideburns. We need photos. Mike, on the other hand, sauntered down the aisle in the manly glory of a full beard. Anybody could use another brother like that.
This is a tanuki:
I liked these Mayra Montero books I read. They were translated into English by the awesome Edith Grossman. One of them is the Cormac McCarthy of the Caribbean. Both of them reminded me of the magical subjectivism of reality, wherein not only are all things possible, but impossible things most certainly are. I forget about that sometimes.
I found out there are Kung Fu Panda cartoons. Yeah, I'll probably watch them the first chance I get. Like I did with the Napolean Dynamite cartoons.
And, cartoons or not: May we all live out the best of the legacies of those loved ones who came before us.
