Justfolk's photos

I got out of bed a half-hour before this morning's totality to get myself ready for the great orange globe. I went back to bed an hour and a half later. While up, I took about five dozen pictures of the eclipse. Out of that I have about a half-dozen favourites. This is one of them. This picture is worked from the raw file, trying to retain the actual colour and brightness of the fully eclipsed moon while showing as many tree branches as possible, and not losing the stars in the background. I'm happy with the result. I expect that if I had used one of the camera's "computational modes" I would have ended up with something more visually satisfying. But I like using the camera as a camera. And I like this picture.

I got up in the middle of the night. This was the view from the back yard. I got some closer pictures but this is one of my favourites. And I'm going back to bed now.

The moon is 94.8% illuminated right now. Or so the website I consult about such things tells me. Here it was a half hour ago, floating over my neighbours' trees

I have always had more or less disorganised spice cupboards. When you're using the cupboard every day it is hard to keep it organised. Or neat.

With a few rural exceptions, the liquor stores in this province are owned and operated by the provincial government. It, the provincial government, like about 99% of the population of the country, Canada, is fed up with the aggressive, abusive, and imperialist threats spewing out of the USA White House. So it ordered that its liquor stores take all USA products off the shelves. That is done with the so-close-to-full-that-it-doesn't-matter agreement of the customers and staff. This is at my neighbourhood liquor store. When I told the cashier I was going to take a picture, she said with an amused (and perhaps somewhat proud) look that she could wait easily enough for me. And, if you wonder about that foreground stack of Bud Light -- it is actually made locally.

A part of a lamp in our diningroom. I've already posted pictures of other parts.

After forty-odd years of saying to myself, "I must buy a machine to make sparkling water," I finally did. There were several barriers against getting it earlier. They included my steadfast refusal to buy from a certain area of the world. The machine that made *this* sparkling stuff came from here in Canada so I was happy enough. And it does its job well. My original reason for having it, a hugely productive red currant bush outside our door, is no longer in my life. We moved from that house and I did not think to dig up the currant and take it with me! I have missed the bush for twenty-five years. (And the new owners seem to have got rid of it in the meantime. Sigh.) But I have other uses than my old berryocky. Even a bit of sparkling clementine-flavoured water is nice. And it looks good.

The Pleiades a few minutes ago. Or the Seven Sisters. Or the Little Shopping Cart in the Sky. Whatever. The Moon is just off the upper left corner and there have been clouds blowing past it all evening. But the pictures are more interesting with the clouds than without.

This is a backside shot of the orangey-yellow Purple finch who visited our feeder this morning, and the little patch of purple in the small of his back (or whatever is the right term for that part of a bird's back).

I did, I did think it. But I didn't. Didn't see it. I've never seen a house finch so I was confused by this Purple finch in a rather uncommon yellow-orange morph or something. But as soon as someone (uhh, several people) on a local birdwatching page pointed out my error, it seemed obvious. So this morning's Turnbuckle Portrait has an American goldfinch and a Purple finch.

If, following what was suggested to Candide, you *want* to tend your garden for your sanity but you cannot due to snow, the next best thing is to boil your leftover chicken parts and vegetable waters overnight into a stock. It's still in the spirit of Voltaire.

Lately I've been trying to get a good picture of the Orion Nebula, Messier #42. And I am surprising myself with being able to do so, with my camera and usual zoom lens, and with no tripod. This was an hour ago from my back yard. It is tempting to go looking for a telescope, but I'm enjoying this rather more low-tech way of seeing things in the sky.

My wife grows amaryllis most years. This year has been especially good for the blooms. This twin bloom is probably among the last of the six-week-or-so spectacle for the year (though I expect to see more flowers, probably smaller, for a few more weeks).

I have become infatuated, made somewhat foolish, by the brightly lit bits of shiny glassy stuff I see around me. I'll get over it. But in the meantime I may post a few results. This was when this morning's low sun shone on a lamp in our dining-room. I shot it at a very high ISO and liked the texture as a result. But when I went back in the room a few minutes later to do it again at a lower ISO, the sun had moved. Moving the lamp was too much trouble so I'll wait for another day and get a different picture. :)

Every winter we give the birds sunflower seeds. And a couple of those seeds come up in the spring in unexpected places. This was four or five years ago and I watched as a sunflower grew up, not very tall, bloomed, and wilted.

Language historians believe that a source of our modern word window is a borrowing (a thousand years ago) from one of the Scandinavian languages (Norse, Danish, . . .). That borrowed bit was a word meaning "wind-eye" or opening through which the wind might come. This bit of a window at the Landesmuseum in Zurich won't let any wind in or out. But it is suggestive of an eye.

It was a bit dusty so I washed the green insulator before I laid it up on the windowsill. The window glass is very dirty, something I really only notice when I point the camera at it. I am looking forward to the spring because we have already bought a new window to go in this spot. I'll be able to take pictures through it.

He saw the light was perfect, so he stopt for a minute for his portrait.