Category Archives: Weather

Summer Sky ’19

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No chance of seeing the Perseids this year from northern Illinois: overcast skies for the last few days. Not that seeing the light streaks is that impressive here in the light-washed suburbs, anyway.

But some days, the summer sky at dusk makes up for all that. Such as a few weeks ago.

Not all the glory of seeing with your eyes, but some of it. The glow was exceptionally ephemeral. I walked outside and noticed the color. I happened to have a camera in my pocket. About five minutes later, after I finished my outside business — taking out the trash —  the glow was almost gone.

Thursday Balderdash

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An unusual string of chilly days here in mid-June. As in, lower than 70 degrees F. even during the day. But at least it hasn’t been this cold, as the Weather Underground claimed it to be on the evening of May 26 in northern Illinois.

It was fairly chilly that night, but I believe 52 F. was correct.

Toward the end of May, I visited Navy Pier in Chicago for a short while after dark. Unfortunately not on an evening with fireworks. But the area is alive with people well into the evening, many of them giddy and dressed to the nines after disembarking from party boats.

The new Ferris wheel on the pier (installed in 2016) is pretty by night.
“Both the 1995 and the 2016 wheels were manufactured by Dutch Wheels,” the Chicago Architecture Center says, referring to the two wheels that have been on the site since the redevelopment of Navy Pier in the mid-90s.

“Known as the Centennial Wheel, the new attraction measures 196 feet in height and has 42 gondolas. While this Ferris wheel won’t contend for the ‘world’s tallest’ title, it is currently the sixth-tallest wheel in the United States.”

The world’s tallest Ferris wheel would be…? The High Roller in Las Vegas, according to Wiki, since its development in 2014. You’d think it would a Chinese wheel, but no. Some functionary in the Chinese government hasn’t been doing his job, which is making sure that mindless giantism expresses itself in highly noticeable public structures. Too bad for him, the tallest one is in this country. USA! USA!

Spotted in I don’t remember which store recently.
The product might or might not be effective for pest control, but I know one thing: I ain’t gonna work on Maggie’s Farm no more.

For some reason, we had a 45 of that song around the house when I was a kid, though I don’t recall either of my brothers being Dylan fans. I had a certain fascination with it, especially imagining a literal window made of bricks in a room surrounded by National Guardsmen.

Curiously, Dylan saw fit recently to put the song on YouTube, along with others of similar vintage.

In case you’re wondering what the Alabama Coat of Arms looks like, wonder no more.
Found between a pair of elevator doors at the Alabama State Capitol. The Latin reads, We dare to defend our rights, which happens to be the state motto, adopted in 1939 due to the efforts of Marie Bankhead Owen, a ladylike white supremacist who also happened to be Tallulah Bankhead’s aunt. The ship is the Badine, which first brought Jean-Baptiste Le Moyne de Bienville and Pierre Le Moyne d’Iberville to the future Alabama, where they founded Mobile.

The Snows of April 27

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Last Friday was a perfectly brilliant spring day, temps in the 60s. Come Saturday afternoon, snow fell. About three inches. It stuck until Sunday morning.

The green was slowly covered by white.
On Sunday, the sun came out and almost all of the snow melted. The surviving bits in the shadows disappeared with this morning’s rain. It’s pretty soggy out there now.

The grass and flowers and greening bushes and the new-leaf trees don’t seem to mind the snow. But it must be upsetting to lawn-care enthusiasts who are eager to get out there and mow their lawns.

Snow Melts, Dog Guards Her Territory, Ants March and Die

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Sure enough, the inches of snow got busy melting this morning. By noon, it was warm enough for me to stand on my deck in my socks — on the parts where the snow was already gone — without any discomfort. Felt good, actually.

As the meltwater trickled from the roof into the rain gutter, it sounded like this.

The dog has spent a lot of time lately out on the deck, or on the ground near the deck, sniffing and pawing. Even when the snow was thick. My guess is that another animal has taken up residence under the deck. Strategies to block the holes leading under the deck never work from year to year.

Probably a new family of possums. Or raccoons. But not a skunk. I think we would have found that out already.

Speaking of wildlife invasions, little black ants were on the march this weekend, especially around the kitchen sink. I deployed ant bait. By this morning, they were gone, except those that died in the trap. Even so, it could be that Earth is the realm of ants, and they’re merely tolerating us vertebrates.

Palm Sunday Snow

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Saturday wasn’t quite balmy, but it was warm enough to spend a pleasant few hours outside. Here’s a view from our deck — the “two tree” view — on Saturday.

About 24 hours later, roughly the same view.

At some point early this morning, snow started to fall. Heavy, wet snow that fell for hours. April snow isn’t unknown here around the Great Lakes, but I don’t think I’ve seen snow cover quite so thick, at least four inches, quite so late in the season.

Even the street was temporarily covered. At least the snow came on Sunday, when fewer people feel the need to be out and about. We decided to stay home too.

No need to shovel, either. Forecasts put the temps above freezing starting soon, rising to nearly 60 F. by Wednesday. In other words, the snow cover will contribute to our seasonal mud soon.

Theologian Rendered in Bubble Gum

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Saturday felt like the actual first day of spring around here. Warm, partly cloudy, birds atwitter, no coat or even jackets necessary for human comfort.

We spent much of the day in the mid-sized western Chicago suburb of Elmhurst, a pleasant place we briefly considered while shopping for a house more than 20 years ago. We’ve spent some time there since, but not recently, and Saturday was a fine day for walking through some of Elmhurst’s soon-to-be-leafy, soon-to-be-green spaces.

Elmhurst is also home to Elmhurst College, a private liberal arts school that looks every bit like you’d think, with handsome buildings, mature trees, lawns crossed by paved footpaths and students here and there on a warm Saturday.
Some years ago, I took Lilly to a few sessions of the Elmhurst College Jazz Festival, whose high school and college performers play at the college’s at Hammerschmidt Chapel.
Elmhurst College dates from the 1870s, founded roughly at the same time as Vanderbilt, though it doesn’t seem to have evolved into the same sort of academic leviathan. I’m glad some institutions still eschew the upgrade to university and call themselves colleges. I suspect that Elmhurst charges about the same stratospheric tuition as Vanderbilt, however, and there’s no excuse for either of them in that regard.

These days, the college is affiliated with the United Church of Christ. It was founded by the German Evangelical Synod of North America, or the Deutsche Evangelische Synode von Nord-Amerika, one of the 19th-century predecessor denominations of the UCC.

Here’s Old Main. Or the Hauptgebaude, which remarkably has its own Wiki page. One of the more handsome structures on campus, I’d say. The front.
And the back.
The college has a gazebo. Minor, but still a gazebo. All colleges should.

What’s this? I noticed a statue not far from Old Main, standing in its own plaza-like spot.
A founding bishop with “Knowledge is Good” carved on the base in German? I’m not sure the denomination had bishops; probably not, but never mind.

No. It’s a statue of Reinhold Niebuhr in an animated pose.
I didn’t expect that. My own ignorance was at work. Niebuhr did his undergraduate work at Elmhurst College, class of 1910. His brother H. Richard, also a theologian, likewise went to Elmhurst.

In 1997, Niebuhr was honored with this regrettable chewing-gum statue, the work of the late Robert Berks, who is better known for his bubble-gum Einstein in Washington, DC, though I’ve also encountered his Carolus Linnæus statue at the Chicago Botanical Gardens. Carved on one of the white blocks is the Serenity Prayer, which is widely attributed to Niebuhr.

Sad to say, most of what I learned about Niebuhr at Vanderbilt — and I’m pretty sure I learned something — has evaporated after nearly 40 years. He was a U.S. public intellectual in any case, informed by his theology. Is there such a thing any more?

Hercules Mulligan, Patriot

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I had ramen at home for lunch on Friday. Unremarkable, except I ate my ramen sitting out on the deck. No coat necessary to keep warm. The setting made the tasty noodles, vegetables and broth that much better.

The warmth didn’t last. It couldn’t. By the evening, drizzle. By Saturday, a late winter chill that hasn’t gone away even yet. Today came the bonus of wind gusts blowing the only way wind blows in cold weather: in your face.

Croci and a few weeds and a purple flower or two now poke out of the ground to tease us about spring. Maybe that counts as cruel. But April is also the month when, suddenly, the grass will be green again.

A couple of weeks ago, I decided it was time to read Ron Chernow’s biography of Alexander Hamilton, which has been on my shelf for quite a while. I don’t regret it. It’s a weighty book, as befits a weighty subject, but also a lively read that illuminates Hamilton’s character and ideas.

There are also plenty of interesting and sometimes entertaining supporting characters. My favorite so far: Hercules Mulligan, only partly for the name. Hamilton met him not long after coming to New York, just before the Revolution.

“[Hamilton] had all the magnetic power of a mysterious foreigner and soon made his first friend: a fashionable tailor with the splendid name of Hercules Mulligan….” Chernow writes. “Born in Ireland in 1740, the colorful, garrulous Mulligan was one of the few tradesmen Hamilton ever befriended. He had a shop and home on Water Street, and Hamilton may have boarded with him briefly…

“Later, during the British occupation of wartime New York, Mulligan was to dabble in freelance espionage for George Washington, discretely pumping his foppish clients, mostly Tories and British officers, for strategic information as he taped their measurements.”

Later, regarding the events associated with Evacuation Day in New York — November 25, 1783 — Chernow relates the following: “The morning after he entered New York, Washington breakfasted with the loquacious tailor, Hercules Mulligan… To wipe away any doubts about Mulligan’s true loyalties, Washington pronounced him ‘a true friend of liberty.’ ”

Mulligan ought to have a plaque somewhere on Water Street. He’s buried in Trinity churchyard in Lower Manhattan. If I’d known that last year, I might have looked for him.

As for Evacuation Day, New York holidays aren’t any of my business, but that’s one that ought to be brought back, even if it’s more-or-less at the same time as Thanksgiving.

Frozen March

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The calendar turns to March, winter doesn’t care. Below freezing most of the time in recent days, close to single digits some nights, but at least no ice or snow from the sky. I understand the Northeast is getting blasted now, but the storm bypassed this part of the Midwest. All we have it rims of dirty snow and ice.

A week ago, when I flew from Dallas to Chicago, skies were cold and clear but also windy, at least at Midway. Not windy enough to prevent landing, but the pilot did warn us that the landing might be bumpy.

He wasn’t just whistling Dixie. Besides regular turbulence, the jet shook from side-to-side, not violently, but more than you’d want, even after it had touched down on the runway. When the plane finally came to a stop, spontaneous applause broke out. It was that kind of landing. You know, a good one. We all walked away from it.

I looked at this posting the other day and was surprised to remember that I’ve been watching The Americans for that long — since March 2013. Watched the penultimate episode on Friday night. Wow, it was good.

The last season has been on demand for a while now, but I refuse to gobble them up like little chocolate doughnuts. I take them more like Toblerone, a sweet triangle at a time, back when that confection was hard to find in the United States.

(I remember an irritating guest we had late in college at our house in early ’80s Nashville. His worst offence was snarfing down our entire Toblerone bar when no one was watching.)

TV was meant for weekly installments. That’s in Leviticus, I think. Except maybe Batman during the original run. Commentaries vary.

I understand The Americans finale is a corker, and I believe it, though I don’t know the details. The show’s nothing if not suspenseful. Sorry to see it end.

Three Presidential Postcards

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Got a press release last night and I glanced at the first line: Naava’s co-founder and CEO Aki Soudunsaari becomes Strategy Director, and long-time KONE employee Arttu Salmenhaara becomes the new Naava CEO.

Scanned it: aa aa aa aa. From Finland, I thought.

Yep. Seems that Helsinki-based Naava makes green walls. The release boasts (as releases tend to): Naava is no ordinary green or plant wall – it is a piece of furniture that promotes wellbeing, a biological air purifier, humidifier and, when needed, a space divider all in one.

Speaking of plant life, the sun came out today but temps remained below freezing. So we enjoyed the minor spectacle of icy plants in the sunshine.

Ephemeral for sure. Above freezing is predicted for tomorrow.

The following are a few more postcards from my minuscule U.S. presidential collection, all postwar chief executives.

Actually, that isn’t the presidential Eisenhower to the left, it’s General of the Army Eisenhower. Thomas E. Stephens painted the portrait. The image of Kennedy on the right I hadn’t seen until I bought the card at the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum.

The card doesn’t tell me, but a little Googling reveals that the JFK picture was taken by Cecil Stoughton, who was the president’s official photographer, aboard the yacht Honey Fitz off Hyannis Port, August 31, 1963.

Finally, Jimmy Carter. Mostly Rosalynn, but Jimmy’s back there. Actually President-elect Carter, since the image is dated January 19, 1977, the day before he took office. No photographer attributed and I haven’t been able to track it down.

The card reflects the brief period when the Carters wanted to emphasize that they were jus’ regular folks. As you might remember, Jimmy and Rosalynn walked from the Capitol to the White House in the post-inaugural parade the next day, an unprecedented act. Must have given the Secret Service fits, but nothing bad came of it.

William Henry Harrison and the King of Toilet-Paper Art

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Last night the atmosphere couldn’t make up its mind between snow and rain. So the compromise was ice.

Lovely on the plants. Otherwise, a pain in the ass. Literally, if you fall down.

In honor of Abraham Lincoln’s 210th birthday, I assembled my collection of U.S. presidential postcards in one place. It didn’t take long. I only have about two dozen. They come in two classes: those depicting U.S. presidents and those depicting places associated with them.

It’s a limited selection because I haven’t been trying very hard to accumulate them over the years. I have the following presidents on postcards: Jefferson, Jackson, William Henry Harrison, Andrew Johnson, Benjamin Harrison, Hoover, Eisenhower, Kennedy, Carter, Reagan and Clinton. But not Lincoln.

I also have one depicting George Mifflin Dallas, 11th Vice President of the United States, who was Polk’s VP. Don’t hear much about him.

Oddly enough, I have more of William Henry Harrison than any other president: three cards dedicated to that briefest of chief executives. Here are two side-by-side cards of Harrison in his days of military glory, around the time of the Battle of Tippecanoe and the Battle of the Thames.
On the left is an 1814 painting by Rembrandt Peale that hangs in Grouseland in Indiana. On the right is an 1813 painting by John Wesley Jarvis, also at Grouseland. I got both cards when we were there for a low price that made me think the museum was getting rid of its stock of postcards, never to replace them.

At some other time I acquired the card on the right, an older Harrison — around the time of his election? Probably, since the flag in the background has 26 stars, which lasted from 1837 to 1845, between the admissions of Michigan and Florida.

An artist named Morris Katz (1932-2010) painted the image of Harrison in 1967. One of a series of presidential portraits that year for Katz, apparently. I have another one of his of Benjamin Harrison, from the same year .

From what I’ve read about Katz, he probably whipped out all of the presidential portraits in a single afternoon. A 1978 article in New York magazine called him “the king of toilet-paper art” and said that he called himself “the world’s fastest painter, creator of instant art.”

“Toilet-paper art”? I wondered exactly what that involved. The article says: “Using only a palette knife and a roll of toilet paper to apply paint, he whips off a landscape oil in under ten minutes…”

This video illustrates his technique. Essentially, Katz used bunched up toilet paper as a kind of sponge to apply the paint. He’s no Rembrandt Peale, but I’ll take him over mutant-eyed Margaret Keane children any day. One of the dentists I visited as a child had her paintings on the wall, or at least paintings in that style, and damned if they weren’t unnerving.