It’s All In Your Head – Temperature Edition

Summer has arrived in the Northern Hemisphere, along with heat, humidity, and the now all-too-familiar cries of “anthropogenic climate change! We’re burning down the planet!” Sigh. No, it’s summer in North America.

Texas and parts of Oklahoma, Arkansas, New Mexico, and Louisiana have been under a ridge of high pressure for several weeks now. This means sinking air dominates the weather, quashing storm building (mostly) and growing stagnant. If you fly into a “heat dome,” you can see the top of the formation. A layer of brown appears in the sky. As you descend into it, the air gets hazy and murky from all the stuff trapped under the ridge. Temperatures have topped out at 110F. Combine that with high humidity and it feels as if it is 120F or more. This is miserable. All you want to do is lay flat in front of a fan and fan, while sipping cool drinks or slurping ice cream. Nights stay warm as well. Yuck.

My area has dried out, a little, and we only got to 106 F on the uplands, 110 F in the canyons. The air moves a bit more, so it is still hot, but not as sticky. When I drove back from Itchy Paw, it was 85F there at 0800. It was 85F up on the Llano Estacado at 1200, because the drier air got cooler overnight.

What’s the difference between 99F and 100F? Not much. But the triple-digit display makes it feel hotter. At 99 people droop. At 100 we whine and flee for shade or air conditioning. If there’s a nice breeze, just shade (and a large glass of something cool) is enough. Tree shade, preferably. Wednesday’s sirocco doesn’t count as a nice breeze.

One degree difference isn’t much, especially on the Fahrenheit scale. One hundred just sounds worse, and it’s a milestone. “The first triple-digit day of the year” means summer has arrived in earnest. After the 70s of April-June 8, it’s HOT. We got spoiled. The time has come to shift to being twilight dwellers, working before 1100 and after 2000. The high pressure ridge/heat dome/Mexican Plume*/Bermuda High/ whatever you call it has moved in for a while. The difference between 99 and 100 is mental more than temperature.

The ridge will break down and move away. Storms are possible starting this weekend as the edge of the southwest monsoon begins easing into this area. Farther east and south, the heat will continue for a while longer, as it does. Then low pressure will drift through, more high pressure, and so on. That’s weather.

*The southwest flow that brought hot, dry weather to the area used to be called the Mexican Plume because it came off of the deserts of northern Mexico, or so it seemed. Now that we have better weather tracking and more of an idea about the large-scale and medium-scale patterns, the name has been discarded. The Bermuda High that steers lots and lots and lots of rain into the southeast is still the Bermuda High, however.

LibertyCon Survivor’s Report, er, AAR

So there I was, minding my own business while tending bar in the Con Suite …

Um, OK, let me back up a little bit.

My first LibertyCon, I volunteered to help in the snacks and drinks room (the Con Suite), because that seemed like a good way to meet people without being an extrovert. It worked. So this year, I did the same thing.

I drove from Texas with some of the North Texas Troublemakers to Chattanooga, and crashed into bed late-ish Thursday evening. I’m getting too high-mileage for long one-day road trips. Being keyed-up about non-Con things didn’t help.

The next day, as soon as I finished having breakfast with Becky Jones at the City Café diner, I checked in and got my registration packet, then found where my panels would be, and wandered. The ConSuite was up on the 16th floor again, so after a while I went up and signed in. They needed bar tenders. This involved checking ID per Tennessee law, pouring beer from the taps, changing the kegs if needed, and pouring the hard stuff. Soda was self-serve, as was the food. I picked two early, open shifts. Aaaaand then discovered that I’d blocked myself out of several panels I wanted to attend. So goes it. I could hear Murphy giggling madly in the distance.

[This is an eternal problem with going to some Cons and academic meetings. Two or three things you desperately want to hear or need to hear are at the same time, often at opposite ends of the venue. That’s just how it works. Only once have I been able to get to everything I wanted or needed to attend, and then I was completely brain fried by eight PM. Ten hours of environmental history, no matter how good, is an overload. But it was worth it!]

I started with Monalisa Foster’s “Point of View and voice” class. It was very good, and very helpful. I discovered two problems with the current Elect story that I am now fixing. Then I meandered, got a snack, and considered the opening ceremony. It filled too full, so I gave my chair to someone who needed it more and lurked in the hallway outside. As Law Dog says, there were a few too many people breathing my air.

I flopped into bed early and slept hard. The next day, I got dessert for breakfast. I was on the “Meet the Newbies” panel with a lot of other people, then went to the North Texas Troublemakers’ publishing panel. This year, Jim Curtis herded the cats, namely Kourtnee (C. V. Walter) and Law Dog (Raconteur Press), me, and John van Stry. When Kourtnee had to leave, James Young got Shanghaied onto the panel. The audience was good sized and seemed pleased with our efforts. It was a free-flowing discussion of indie and small-press publishing, covering the pitfalls, successes, options, and so on. Questions included where we got our characters, contracts, covers (John fussed at me about mine after the panel ended. I know. Everyone fusses at me about covers) and so on. We filled the two hours. Then I went and tended bar for two hours.

The “historians who write fiction” panel was interesting. I semi-heckled JY, and we laughed at the same places. We went to grad school together, for our sins, so we have a history of shared suffering, er, experiences. The world building panel on high fantasy/epic fantasy (there is a difference, sort of, ish) was pretty good. “Lycanthropy – beyond the classic werewolf” had a lot of fascinating ideas and discussion, and ended with much laughter at the idea of a stoner were-koala. I skipped the urban fantasy world building panel because it was late in the evening. I also remembered to get Real Food. I have a bad habit of going until I metaphorically fall onto my nose since I forget to get Real Food.

On Sunday I attended worship, in part because I really needed to calm down. I had a reading, and was vibrating. The service was a praise and prayer time, and it helped. I’d say the room was half full, which both surprised and pleased the leader, Gray Rinehart. When I arrived at my reading room, I found an ox with a box. Acme Enterprises had at last managed to catch me. They have been trying for four years now. Alas, my copy of Wanda’s Wondercaster was too dangerous even for Acme, and they had to substitute something a bit more harmless. I got a lamb and a nice book. My compliments to Orvan Taurus, Acme’s fearless delivery ox, for his persistence and determination.

I read parts of the story about when Lelia scared the abyssal beast. The group was small but appreciative, and laughed in the right places. The other person on the schedule to read didn’t make it, so I answered questions after I finished. I think it was a success. No one threw produce or fled before I finished, and two people who were there for the other gent stayed and said that they might check out my books.

Then I tended bar again until it closed at two-ish, and had a very nice chat with a gentleman who had come up from Australia. The goal was to use up all the beer and hard cider, and as much of the really hard stuff as possible (and legal) before the final staff party. By one-forty-five, I was out of everything but hard cider and some hard liquors, so it was a success. A very nice lady (and former Marine) was also on shift, and she kept things moving and tended to the tidying up and making sure everything stayed in order.

I wandered a little after that, including a second lap through the Room Where Credit Cards Cry (aka the dealers’ room). Some items from the dealers’ room followed me home. No art this year, alas. I should have gone early and scooped up what I liked. The panel I had intended to attend didn’t make, so I went to the artist’s retrospective (David Mattingly) and learned a lot about cover art and how he approaches art in general. It was fascinating. It was also intriguing to see how cover art styles have changed since the late 1970s-early 1980s. I skipped the closing ceremony and Dead Dog party (for the volunteers and authors/panelists).

A big thunderstorm came Sunday afternoon in as my roommate and I packed. “The mountains disappeared,” she observed. As I looked up, Chattanooga also disappeared as a wall-o-rain pounded down. The storm dropped the temperature from 89 to 75. It also made for a three-pill migraine for those trying to leave via Atlanta.

The next day I drove back to Itchy Paw with more of the Troublemakers. We made good time. I’m still not up to loooong one-day drives any more.

Storms Seen From Below

A repost, because I got back late yesterday and then had to go do admin things.

When you live in places where you can see weather coming, sometimes for hours before it finally reaches you, you develop an appreciation for clouds and storms or wanna-be-storms seen from below. I enjoy weaving around cloud towers in the air, so long as I have a way out and they stay towers, not “Oh dear, that’s a wall with hail streamers, I do believe I’m in trouble.” And I’d just as soon be under a roof when the weather starts producing 50 kt winds, sideways rain, and Things Hiding In the Dark (aka rain-wrapped tornadoes at night).

Backyard Greens – The Color Edition

This is what happens when you go for color instead of theme. The Mock Orange that we tried to save died. Grrrrr. Anyway, so we went for color, with durability a close second. Scent also plays a role, so you see true carnations toward the middle of the bed. They are the flat, bright pink things. They smell like cloves, which is why in medieval iconography they are used as a sign of the Crucifixion. (Smells like clove => cloves are shaped like nails=> nails were used on the Cross=> flower is sign of Passion.) There’s also lavender at the far end, and gallardia toward the middle.

A droopy rose tucked in between the wall and the raised bed.

A Yellow Rose in Texas, but not the Yellow Rose Of Texas. That would be Harrison’s Yellow. They sprawl. This sheltered sample is not as hardy. That’s a different gallardia in the background. Gallardia come in all shades of orange, yellow, both, both with brown, and red. They are drought tolerant, but looooove the moist soil we have right now.

A very pink climber. This is not the thornless climber that I see in the mornings. This one fights back and takes names. It’s 20 years old or so

Ebb Tide™ and something pink that I don’t remember off the top of my head. I’d need to check the tag.

This is the younger of the two Ebb Tide plants. I’ve never seen so many blooms, or such dark color on this plant this year. The cool, wet, cloudy weather really make a difference. The other one grows in afternoon shade, this in afternoon sun. Both have an intense spicy smell that’s intoxicating. Snapdragons add a pop of color. Why the bricks? To hold soil and water. There’s a subsurface irrigation system that you can’t see. We’ve had it turned off since early May. After 24″ of rain, it’s not needed at all.

The Chance to do Good

A blast from the past. A small town in this region, Perryton, got hit by a tornado. My associates up there are OK, thanks be. An hour after the storm, people had started trying to clean up and help others in greater need. Within hours of the storm’s passage, people from Amarillo and other towns were on the scene with emergency medical and other assistance. The next day, volunteers began arriving from all over, with supplies, generators, and other things. The fire/EMS department took a direct hit, but their vehicles were mostly OK (usable if battered). Now, other groups have arrived to help with longer term needs.

The manager of a fast-food place directs her husband how to rescue an elderly customer. People from hundreds of miles away swarm a stricken area with their boats, fuel, food, and other supplies. Given the opportunity, people race in to do good, eager and excited for the chance to help someone—sorry that they are needed but happy to be able to help.

And we wonder why so many people from outside the Western World think we’re nuts?

Tripping on the Past

I have a bad habit of roaming, especially when in mostly-safe foreign countries. In the early morning or in the evening, if traffic and weather permit, I’ll head out from the hotel or inn pointed in some random direction. Maybe there’s a quasi-castle-like thing I can see at the end of the road, or a church tower peeking out of trees on a ridge. Or I’ll hear an intriguing sound and go wandering around the castle grounds to discover the local aerobatic practice box and sit on a bench among roses and specimen trees watching someone practice for an aerobatic competition. (In a Zlin. It was in the Czech Republic, of course it was a Zlin.) Or I’ll find Roman bits and an intriguing hint about a Hausberg hidden among the trees.

Once More Onto the Road

I am on a panel this year, and I’ll be doing a reading. I am also staying at the Con hotel. Everything else is still the same.

So, I’m on my way to Chattanooga via a few other intermediate stops. I will be at LibertyCon along with a bunch of the other Unusual Suspects. I’m not presenting or on a panel *taps wood*, just hanging out and learning stuff. And trying to convince Sarah Hoyt that I’m not really an American Exotic Shorthair cat. She’s seen me in purrson before but is still not convinced. *flicks tail*

I don’t think this will be on the menu during the trip, alas (it wasn’t my dinner. I had eggplant.)

The Poseidon Plate at a Greek place in Bacharach. There really are jumbo shrimp.

Once upon a time, there was a gate in a wall… (Goslar, Germany)

The Turning of Summer

Ah Midsummer day, or Sommerwende, or the eve of the feast* of St. John the Baptist. The longest day and shortest night of the year, when “official” summer starts and those who live in warm, dry places glower at the folks rhapsodizing about the glorious warmth of the sun. And pedants point out that the sun is farther away from the Earth than at any other point in the year.

The first time I observed Sommerwende, the turning of summer, it was 1991 in Innsbruck. The festivities around the bridge had precious little to do with St. John’s feast and everything to do with the sun, summer, driving away evil spirits, and other things. A St. Catherine’s wheel blazed on the bridge, throwing sparks all over, and dancers and stilt-walkers in red marched here and there. I didn’t catch all the narration and discussion, but what I did understand told me that this wasn’t created for tourists. The bonfires on the ridges seconded that motion. Something very, very old ran under the festival. My observations after spending subsequent Sommerwenden in Germany and Austria confirmed that. When I saw the lighting of the fires scene in Lord of the Rings, I knew exactly what I was seeing, and the age of that ritual.

I’ve mentioned several times that for me, Loreena McKennet’s “All Souls Night” describes midsummer instead of All Souls Eve. The fires, the leaping, the lights at the bridge … That’s Innsbruck on the solstice.

Last year, I was in Edinburgh for Midsummer. Had I been elsewhere, what would I have seen? Neopagans doing stuff in some places. Photographers clustering here and there, all cameras aimed at the same stone alignments. Interesting things going on quietly in remote corners, things best not investigated by outsiders. Private little rituals for “good luck” because no one really believes in land spirits or the like. Really. I would not want to be anywhere near some of the stone circles, megaliths, or hill forts on that day at dawn or sunset. Places resonate, and sometimes I catch things I don’t need to, or my imagination gets a little too busy. Best just to stay away.

Now, the days grow shorter, the nights add a minute or two a day, and the heat builds in. August is to be endured. September calls itself autumn, but out here? You still bake. No one sane gets the chili and hot cocoa at football games in the evenings. That’s for later. Europe is different. The British Isles are different. They race to get harvest in before the cold, wet time of the year begins. Frost has already touched the uplands, a warning. Snow begins creeping down the slopes of the Alps and Tatras, and brushes the Grampians on occasion.

*The Feast is June 24, so the eve is June 23. However, the solstice wanders a bit, so often the nocturnal events (bonfires, et al) are moved to the 23rd. It’s often hard to tell the exact solstice date, but within a week you can tell that day length is changing. And given some of the really strange legends that arose about St. John the Baptist (and his head), popular blurring of things probably played a role.

NOTE: I am on the road. Some posts will not allow comments, because I won’t be able to respond or free them if they go into moderation.

June 2023 Author Update

I will be at LibertyCon in Chattanooga this week.

“The Wolves and the Ice Lion” is with beta readers, and I plan to release it in early July.

I have all the stories for the next Familiar Generations book done, and they are mellowing. I plan to call for beta readers in late July, for an early September release date.

I started the next Elect book, tentatively called “Of Wood and Wolves.” That would be a late October release. Paulus and Attila are the central characters among the Elect in this volume.

The next Lone Hunter novel will follow that one, then probably the Scottish stand alone. That’s at 15K words, but didn’t want to gel. It seems to be settling in, and I will probably alternate working on that one and on the Familiar Generations novel.

The Lake Has Water!

So, since I was out in that part of the county, and had a few minutes to kill, and have somewhat morbid curiosity, I decided to go see the lake that lurks near the county road on the way to Day Job.

A quick reminder. Here’s the lake in 2019:

And back in May, when we’d had 18 inches of rain. Note the fence:

And this past week, after over 22 inches of rain, two of which fell in half an hour or so. Can you find the fence?

A different view:

Yeah. Impressive. A goodly amount of that water is seeping into the soil, boosting the local water table and helping support the pasture around the playa. More is going to evaporate, which puts moisture into the air, which will help keep rain more likely. It takes moisture to get moisture. Despite the flooding, despite the clouds of mosquitoes, and the cattle losses, and hail damage, no one is complaining out loud. Even the folks who got flooded out are focusing on dealing with that. I’m not sure anyone dares to complain, lest the water get turned off again.

For the first time that I can recall in the 13 years or so that I’ve been watching this playa, there are ducks with ducklings bobbing around on the water. I sort of wanted to get out and take photos, but I was on the stretch of road with water on both sides, so I kept going. A culvert runs under the road, and the ditch and low area has a bit of lake overflow. I’ve not seen that before. A tongue of the lake extends for another quarter mile. Again, a first for me.

It’s been fascinating comparing the rainfall amounts across the county. The far western edge has gotten a fair amount. The central area, west of the official recording site, got drenched and is now between two and five inches above the average yearly total. The farther east you go, the less rain, although the official total remains impressive (seven and a half inches in a month). The entire region is lush for the first time in a while. Everyone talks about it – it seems like all anyone talks about. 🙂