John Burridge

The weather has been a rollercoaster this last week.  Earlier, we spent an enjoyable weekend basking in the sunny 50F weather; this last few days we've had snow and this morning it's 22F outside.  I'm not sure what the hummingbirds think about all of this as ruddy sunlight creeps into our backyard and I imagine they're in a torpor right now.  

Weird and vaguely erotic dreams this morning led to a Reed Dream.  There was a sequence in a dorm or similar student housing.  I was changing clothes?  and noticed that water from the leaking roof had made bulging trails behind the ceiling's and wall's paint/plaster.  At one point during the dream, I commented on the oddness of being a practically sixty-year-old college student, but this did not result in the dream becoming lucid, and instead there was a muddled moment wondering how I was paying for my housing if I wasn't exactly enrolled in classes.  

There's a break in my recall.  I was in a large, dark, brick hall, it may have been a library.  At one point there was a Christmas tree in the middle of the room.  Along one wall were a series of arches, stairs, and balconies.  I had an iPad, which I had been using to write.  A renaissance ensemble was singing a Mysterium (I forget the name of the piece, except that it has a boy soprano part that sometimes is sung with helium).  They were singing it straight, and a woman in a blue period dress was singing the super-high part. She was having a theatrical interaction with one or two male choir members, and I'm not recalling the plot.  

During all of this I was going to RollerBlade.  A middle-aged collegiate woman advised me I should put away my iPad, as there had been a rash of iPad thefts.  As I was putting the iPad into my canvas bag, it slipped out, dropped about two feet onto the brick/concrete floor, and cracked.  At first I thought it was just the safety case around the iPad, but it was the glass front, which fractured and offered sharp edges to my fingers.  I put the iPad back into my bag and started to strap on my RollerBlades.  Now that I'm thinking about it, these were my original black-and-neon-yellow RollerBlades.  I had difficulty getting the bindings snapped in place, as they kept crossing and doing phyics defying things only possible in a dream muddle.  I never managed to get both RollerBlades on, and only imagined gliding around the Christmas tree to the sounds of a celestial choir.

On the sky front, we had a break in the clouds and I managed to snap some photos of the Moon and Jupiter (and its moons), as well a Venus

It's been a while since I photographed the planets.  Saturday, we had a break in the weather:  the morning sky was clear and cold, which meant that Venus, the Moon and Mars were visible in the pre-dawn sky.  Venus is approaching its greatest brilliance, in a few days it should be visible during the day.  The Moon was three days before being new, and rose something like 5 AM.   Mars was dim compared to the Moon and Venus.

All three objects were fairly low in the sky, which necessitated crossing the street with camera and tripod. After contending with some awkwardly placed power lines, I managed to frame the sky over the eaves of neighbors' houses.  It would have been nice to have a tree's silhouette in the photo, but the rooflines looked like mountains or possibly pyramids.  

After a quick jaunt to the store for tea, I set up the camera and tripod in the backyard against the arbor vita trees, focused on the fountain, and waited for the hummingbirds to appear.  Of course, the first hummingbird to appear came while I was futzing with the tripod and I only managed a blurry photo of it flying off.  I finished set-up.  I felt a little like some early twentieth century British Naturalist, as I had set up a small end table, chair and cushion, and had wrapped myself in faux leopard skin fleecy blanket.  

As I was sipping my rapidly cooling tea, a fierce humming signaled the sudden arrival of a bright red hummingbird.  It peered at me down its long and pointy beak, and, as I Tweeted later, I was pretty sure it was challenging me to a duel over ownership of the fountain ("Hello.  I am a hummingbird.  This is my fountain.  Prepare to die.")  

The light meter on the camera helped me to gauge the sun's progress, as I would have to adjust the shutter speed to compensate for the increase in light.   When the hummingbirds came to the fountain I was mostly ready.  I took many photos, fiddled with fine-tuning the camera's focus, and managed a number of good shots and one excellent one (the first one).  

By the time my tea had defrosted the glass top of the end table, it was too cold to drink.  

I spent the rest of the morning processing photos, and then it was time to go to my folks for a socially distanced celebration of my Dad's birthday.  We brought gluten-free cupcakes as a alternative to a socially closer birthday cake with candles.  Mark and I (okay, mostly Mark) had painted a sign for his garage, which he's converted into a combination wood shop, gym, and indoor dog play area.  It looked a little like a medieval manuscript, with the H in his name outlined and a medieval dog at the bottom.  I'm pretty sure he liked it, or at least appreciated it.  His ginormous German Shepherd and Aoife played together; we played "Apples to Apples."  

Then it was time to run home and feed the cats.  

The evening wound up with the finishing touches on a the latest geometric Math Art.  

If Saturday was the Day of Producing Art, Sunday was the day of Relative Sloth.  

 I've woken up early, with "Don't Rain On My Parade" playing in my head and the remains of a convoluted dream.  I'm going to guess that writing last night and the clips of "Glee" Mark was watching last night are the cause.

The dream started out as a musical set in a diner on top of a really tall tower.  Thinking back, the diner started out as a gas stop from earlier in the dream.  I was trying to pay for a fountain Pepsi, which involved standing in a line to feed a dollar bill into a machine's slot, moving down a bit in a line (the dream was apparently pre-COVID, because there was no mask anxiety), and then retreaving a large, soda-filled paper cup from a dispenser.  There was something about a receipt and a missing customer's food.

I wandered around the gas stop's kitchen, and the diner somehow transformed to being a tower-top dinner theatre.  I'm not sure what the play was; probably "Anything Goes" meets "Guys and Dolls" because everyone seemed to have New York accents and I was dressed in 1920's era clothing.  The dream turned into a typical, "the play's started and I'm not quite remembering my lines" dream, and then a small light blew out or something, and the other actor in the opening scene had to deal with with it, and said, "Mr. Burridge, come over here."  The orchestra vamped.  I looked around the dinner theatre, knowing that my folks were in the audience somewhere, and that I was going to have to make something up.  So I started to improvise a song.  "Follow the candle," was a repeated phrase, and in the dream I was desperately trying to rhyme a particularly difficult word that I can't recall waking (writing this it's harder not to come up with rhymes).   I picked up a lit red taper from someone's table and paraded back and forth on the stage, singing "Follow the candle," to what in waking life I'm recognizing as "Follow the Fold," from "Guys and Dolls."  

The song concluded, and the dream shifted from a dinner theatre show to a sci-fi adventure set in a old diner atop a really tall tower.  The diner transformed from a 40's New York style metallic diner to (I think) an Asian Fusion restaurant.  Or possibly an Asian couple's apartment.   Deep beneath the base of the tower, there was some kind of mystic energy source, like a ball of lightning ten feet across or something.  I have a image of a thermometer representing the tower, and the energy ball at the base is like a mercury reservoir.  We were supposed to raise the energy up to the top of the tower, I'm not sure why, it was one of those "we have to do this" dream things.      

There was something about a new owner of the tower being bad... and using the air conditioning units as a gateway for a cyber attack.  And the Asian wife being mad at the husband for something (like buying an RV or selling the silverwear or a similar sit-com dilemma)  and chasing him in a spherical capsule up the tower while he ran up the stairs.   Oh, and there was a toddler having a tantrum because she wanted her diaper changed, and she had climbed on the outside railing at the top of the tower to do so.   But the whole dream ended in the living room, where a tapestry rolled up like a curtain to show a screen with three other towers trying to contact us (or else the tapestry was like a TV screen).  "We'll send you aid," they said.  Their images on the tapestry became more blocky, like they were on a quilt made of squares and right triangles.  "Look for that which is there and not there," they said, and then faded from view.   (In waking life I took this to mean a feeling, like love, or a sense of family or community -- something there, but intangible).    

---

The thick cloud cover that hid the sky when I first woke up has cleared.  The waning crescent moon is near Spica, which I mistook for Mars for a second.  Venus is low on the horizon, shining through a rent in the clouds.  It's two outstretched hands away from the Moon, so Friday morning will the morning for a conjunction.  If the clouds allow. 

---

Yesterday afternoon, some roofing contractor rang our doorbell  (I had hoped it was a package delivery) and started his rambly, "this isn't a sales pitch" sales pitch (after retreating to the bottom of the porch stairs).    I thought he was only going to ask a few quick questions, but I finally stopped him after what I'm thinking was about a minute or two and said, "I'm going to go inside now, because I'm really uncomfortable that you're not wearing a mask."  

Mark and I couldn't believe it, considering he was polling the neighborhood asking folks how old their roofs were.  

The Moon is drawing closer to Venus, so this morning I made sure to drag myself out of bed and go out to see what could be seen.  Thick hoarfrost coated the deck, and I only stuck my head out through the open sliding patio doors.  Eastward, a sickle Moon hung over Venus -- lightly veiled by clouds, and not quite as near together as I thought they might be. 

I debated with myself and decided to forego astrophotography because of the clouds and because I have some clear photos of the Moon and Venus (included here).  Also, some times I want to observe and experience the skies without a camera.  

More clouds rolled in, obscuring the stars, and provided a scrim for the rising sun's light show later in the morning.

I climbed the hill, camera and tripod in tow, to see what I could see Saturday night.  The late afternoon had gained a pall of overcast, and I figured it would be just my luck that an otherwise clear day would gauze over at sunset and hide the conjunction of inner planets and the moon Yet Another Night.

I crested the hill and ... nothing.  Some sanguine clouds hung in an otherwise featureless sky over the darkening hills of the southern end of the Willamette Valley. 

I scanned the skies and saw one of the thinnest crescent moons I've ever seen in my life:  a whisker thin bend a shade lighter than the darkening blue-beige sky. 


Finally!  I set up the tripod, and discovered the camera was loose.  I fiddled with the knob on the tripod that tightens the mounting screw--there was a snap, and the camera came off the tripod in my hands.  A small, rectangular plate was still attached to the screw, and there was a corresponding hole in the bottom of the camera's plastic body, through which I could see the barrel of the lens and sensor mechanism. 

I rested my hand on top of the tripod, focused the camera on the Moon, and took a photo.  The camera seemed to be working, even with a hole in it.  I took a few more photos, during which a smudge of a cloud moved and unveiled Venus.

I knew Mercury would be above Venus, and took a few more photos before locating it.  I figured that if I kept the shutter speed at or faster than 1/20th of a second, I'd be able to hold the camera steady enough for sharp pictures. 

I don't know what I'm going to do with the camera.  The plastic has fatigued around the metal socket where there mounting screw goes; obviously, the weight of the fully extended lens combined with me tightening the screw extra tight was too much for the plastic parts.  I've briefly read about camera clamp mounts, which might necessitate purchasing a whole new tripod.  For now, I've covered the hole with tape to keep out bugs, dirt, moisture, and hair. 

I was fiddling around with my camera the other night taking photographs of leaves illuminated by streetlights and noticed Venus framed by some branches.  Since Venus is returning to the Sun's glare, it's going to become more difficult to see over the next few months.  Figuring that I should take advantage of a clear night with a still very bright Venus in it, I took a photo.



Later, when I going through the night's shots (mostly blurry, shadowy leaves), I discovered I'd also managed to catch the Pleiades as well.

Last Sunday night, Mark took the dog outside for her final play session and called back into the house, "I see Venus!"

I had given up any hope of seeing Venus anywhere near the Pleiades, especially as it had been raining a few hours before.  But I scurried around the house, assembled the camera and tripod, and managed to get some passible photos of Venus, uh, leaving the Pleiades star cluster.  The northwestern sky was relatively clear; a river of clouds hugged the southern sky, and the eastern sky was palled over with overcast and torn veils.   It would have been nice to have Venus in the cluster, but hey--two days after is what I was able to get.

I took several shots, then spun the camera around for some arty shots of the moon in the clouds.

The Moon is getting close to Venus.  It's supposed to be nearer tomorrow, but given the penchant for cloudy skies in late Winter, I figured I should take pictures now.  In a few more days, the Moon will sail past Aldebaran and the constellation Taurus.

While I was setting up, Cicero jumped up on The Fort and just happened to line up with the crescent moon.  I'm not sure why he was up on the very top rail of The Fort; maybe he likes to be as high as possible in an attempt to survey as much of the neighbors' yards as he can. 

On the Writing Front:  I've been cleaning up a 20,000 word manuscript.  Thank goodness for the computer's ability to speak text -- I've found a couple of phrase echos and a number of stupid clerical errors.  I also ran into a weird Scrivener bug where it would display one version of my text if I was looking at it on a scene document-by-document basis and an earlier version if I was looking at it on a pan-scene Folder basis.   I ended up having to create a new Scrivener file and copy-and-paste the scene documents in. 

On the Gym Front:  I went to the gym Monday (2/24) and did the Push-Pull Routine.  I went kind of late and felt tired the next day.  So tired, that I made Writing Day Hot Bath With Candles and Recordings of Singing Bowls Day and skipped the gym Wednesday. 

 The Friday after Thanksgiving, I managed to get some photographs of the Moon, Saturn, Venus and Jupiter.


We had some computer problems shortly afterward which prevented a proper download of the photos from my camera.  (The camera can do some wireless transfers to a mobile device, but I noticed the image quality was vastly inferior to using a cable to directly copy image files to a hard drive.)


At the end of a day of decorating my folks' Christmas tree, I excused myself and went out to the southern slope of the hill where they live.


The crescent moon was out, but none of the other planets was visible.  I was glad that I got out a little early, because it allowed me to find a good spot to set up the tripod.   Then I waited and tried not to fiddle around with the zoom too much (which requires re-focusing).


I did wish that I'd managed to have a clear sky several nights prior when the Moon would have been much closer to Venus and Jupiter, but the Moon that Friday made it easier to find Saturn.






Writing: I got out of the house Monday and edited a long non-fiction piece that's been rattling around.  It needs some cleaning up, and I should decide if I'm going to post it in installments to this blog or if I'm just going to push it out to Amazon or something.


Gym report:  went to the gym Monday and did the new routine.  I allowed myself a ten day break; the last time I was at the gym was Friday, December 20.  I got some earbuds over the break and tried them out; I have to say that not hearing nihilistic music about some dude's co-dependent relationship and general mess of a life was kind of nice.

Last night's big adventure was taking photographs of Venus and Jupiter.  I was a little over-enthusiastic, and went clumping up the hill with my camera and tripod around 4:40, just as the sun set.  The extra time searching for a suitable west-facing spot was rewarded, though, as our part of the valley brings an early sun- and planets-set.

I set up at a street corner (sort of near a street-lamp, as it turned out).  I'm pretty sure that no local residents were too freaked out by a heavily jacketed person hovering over a camera, pointed vaguely west.  Around 5:15 Venus became obvious enough for me to find it -- I kept casting about, worried that I'd be looking and looking for Venus and Jupiter, only to find them hiding behind a tree, five seconds before they set.

What I learned was.

An f-stop of 8 will bring out the reds and purples in a evening sky.   An f-stop of 1will flatten the color.   Also, a f-stop of 1 has a narrow field-of-focus; 8 has a wider field.   I think, also, that an f-stop of 1 is more likely to bring out the snow-flake asterism effect when Venus is over-exposed (hmm, I'll have to check on this, because it seems backward).

Venus will wash out and over-saturate its pixels at a lower f-stop and a longer exposure time.

Starting at a half-second, at extreme zoom (55mm and above), exposure times above a half second will begin to show streaked planets as they move in their orbits.

Whoa!  An ISO of 400 will show up the moons of Jupiter!  Without streaking.  It does, however, increase the graininess of the photograph with extra noise.

Changing the field of view (wide or zoom) requires slight adjustment to the focus.

For most astro shots, I'm thinking that I want a f-stop of 8, a shutter speed of about a fourth or eighth of a second, and an ISO of 100.   For Jupiter's moon shots, I think I want a midnight Jupiter, an ISO of 400, and a fourth of a second exposure.

I have to make a note-card with all of this on it so I can remember correctly for next time.  Sunday (11/24) is a Big Astro day, as the Moon will be conjunct Mars early in the morning (fingers crossed against fog) and Venus and Jupiter make their closest conjunction in the evening (fingers crossed against rain).

Full photoset here:  https://photos.app.goo.gl/354ESCRxbCLkrUNJ7

Smokey tore into our bedroom this morning on some Secret Cat Mission, and when I looked out the back, I saw that the sky was actually clear and that the Moon, Venus and Jupiter were out. 

I snapped a ton of shots, shivering in the cold as the dew froze on the table. 

More details about New Year's -- The first three days of January, the Moon sailed past Venus, Jupiter, and Mercury.  I was hoping that I would be able to see (and photograph) the early morning celestial show.  Monday, December 31, the skies were cloudy and instead of moon photographs, I ended up wandering around Amazon Park in the fog.

Tuesday morning, the clouds were more cooperative, and the Moon was about eight degrees south of Venus.  The morning was much colder than the previous day's, and the basin of water in our back was frozen through.  I took a few shots and realized that the night was hazier than I thought.

At one point, Spencer (Cicero's brother) came up hoping for kitty treats or something (I'm pretty sure he comes over on a regular basis at 5:30 AM to see if Smokey or Cicero will come out and play), but ran away when I said hello.

I managed to get a wide-angle shot of Jupiter (through the trees and power line -- you can see at the very tip of one of the branches between two of the power lines), Venus and the Moon.  Since it was cold, and I didn't want to freeze the camera (or myself), I went back in and crashed on the couch looking out at the sky.  I dozed a little, and then woke suddenly to a purple sky.

High clouds and con-trails provided some artistic shots.  At another point, I snapped a shot as an airplane occluded the Moon.  I was hoping for a cool outline, but got the trails from the wing lights instead.


More photos here:  https://photos.app.goo.gl/j6ukwDZCEsNA7Zqo6 

The mornings have been mostly clear Tuesday and Wednesday, and I've been able to observe the Moon as it swings past Venus (Tuesday) and between Venus and Jupiter (Wednesday).  Tuesday, I had the wherewithal to take some photos.  Wednesday, I was content to stare at the three lumens in the cobalt sky.

Moon conjunct Mars, Sept 19,2018



















Full moon near Mars, July 26, 2018

















New moon near Venus, July 19, 2018















Dec 7, 2013 (shot through a telescope) 

















Feb 20, 2015 (also shot through a telescope)




















 Feb 26, 2009.  The moon is next to Venus.