Manure railroading
Dec. 11th, 2008 06:53 pmIn winter we compost manure from the barns along the fences in the pasture. The midline fence in particular has always had deep grooves on both sides where the previous owners' horses used to pace up and down. We keep hoping to level that off, but so far it still shows. Additional factor: at this time of year, it gets very dark quite early in the day, like 4:15 to 4:30 pm.
So, I did all my barn chores and decided that I should not leave a wheelbarrow full of you-know-what for Gary to empty tomorrow, since he will be short on time anyway due to a dentist visit. Even though it was after 5 pm and quite dark, I boldly set out for the pasture with my loaded barrow. We have six or more inches of snow on the ground in most places, and some of it has melted partly and refrozen, so there are ruts like railroad tracks on the usual courses followed by the wheelbarrow. (It's the kind with two big wheels on the sides.)
Fortunately, the moon is nearly full and was just rising high enough to light up the snow brightly, so visibility out in the pitch black wasn't a problem. Nor was following the ruts as long as I paid attention at the "diamonds" and "switches". Yes, it's just like railroad track. The frozen ruts provide a relatively effortless path, but if you get caught at a turnout you can be off on the wrong route in a flash. I decided to make a new shortcut and put in a turn so it would work. Jeez, pushing a hundred pounds of crap through six inches of crunchy snow is hard work, even just for eight feet or so. Eventually the job was done, though, and it's a lot easier pushing an empty wheelbarrow back to the barn, let me tell you.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow did not give quite the luster of mid-day, but it was better than a night light. There were brilliant shadows. Coming back I was facing south and could see Venus and Jupiter in the sky. Jupiter is normally bright, though it will be much brighter in a couple of months as the sun moves to opposition with it. Venus, on the other paw, is close to the extreme distance it reaches from the sun (relative to our viewpoint, anyway) and is absolutely brilliant. If you haven't looked at it, you should.
So, I did all my barn chores and decided that I should not leave a wheelbarrow full of you-know-what for Gary to empty tomorrow, since he will be short on time anyway due to a dentist visit. Even though it was after 5 pm and quite dark, I boldly set out for the pasture with my loaded barrow. We have six or more inches of snow on the ground in most places, and some of it has melted partly and refrozen, so there are ruts like railroad tracks on the usual courses followed by the wheelbarrow. (It's the kind with two big wheels on the sides.)
Fortunately, the moon is nearly full and was just rising high enough to light up the snow brightly, so visibility out in the pitch black wasn't a problem. Nor was following the ruts as long as I paid attention at the "diamonds" and "switches". Yes, it's just like railroad track. The frozen ruts provide a relatively effortless path, but if you get caught at a turnout you can be off on the wrong route in a flash. I decided to make a new shortcut and put in a turn so it would work. Jeez, pushing a hundred pounds of crap through six inches of crunchy snow is hard work, even just for eight feet or so. Eventually the job was done, though, and it's a lot easier pushing an empty wheelbarrow back to the barn, let me tell you.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow did not give quite the luster of mid-day, but it was better than a night light. There were brilliant shadows. Coming back I was facing south and could see Venus and Jupiter in the sky. Jupiter is normally bright, though it will be much brighter in a couple of months as the sun moves to opposition with it. Venus, on the other paw, is close to the extreme distance it reaches from the sun (relative to our viewpoint, anyway) and is absolutely brilliant. If you haven't looked at it, you should.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-12 02:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-12 02:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-12 04:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-12 09:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-12 09:39 am (UTC)5:30 Thursday morning I looked out a west-facing window and saw the bright moon setting through thin clouds and I thought that there are still some wonderful things in this world. In the rush and complication of daily life these things still exist. The stars and moon go on shining.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-12 10:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-12 10:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-12 10:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-12 11:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-12 11:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-12 11:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-12 11:36 am (UTC)Of course, living in the Pacific Northwest would be even worse. Living in the desert would improve viewing options for some things but wipe out the aurora.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-12 11:43 am (UTC)Then, I don't remember having ever seen a comet, or even a simple lunar eclipse. I don't think aurora australis will ever reach as far North as I am, and so on...
I saw a meteor shower though. Once. And it was a short one, 12 years ago.
So you're not the only one astronomically unlucky person out there, it seems
no subject
Date: 2008-12-12 11:51 am (UTC)Great comets tend to come once a decade or thereabouts. I've had an almost clear view of one. I fully expect to see another before I'm gone. Solar eclipses are harder. Unless you can afford to travel long distances and are willing to do so, you may never catch a total eclipse. Even those who do travel to see them are frequently frustrated by bad viewing conditions. Partial eclipses, though, are frequent enough that you'll have plenty of opportunities. I've seen eight or ten of those.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-12 12:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-12 12:43 pm (UTC)