July 4, 1776 to Today

 

from Huffington Post

"The second day of July, 1776, will be the most memorable epoch in the history of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival.... It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illuminations, from one end of this continent to the other, from this time forward forever more. ^"

<sup>John Adams 



And a good read for the day:

http://rtfitchauthor.com/2013/07/04/equine-fireworks-3/</sup>

The Impossible Dream

By the time I'd frittered away most of Monday, it was 8 o'clock when I drove north to pick up some litter along the highway in Silvertip.   Yesterday, the afore-mentioned Monday, was Supermoon Weekend-plus-one day.

The lake at 10 PM.

As I drove past Tern Lake, the scene was breath-taking, but then, most everything about Alaska takes my breath away (especially if it's uphill).   Sunshine, calm water, terns and gulls flying about--this is where I should be going, I thought, not 25 miles away to pick up beer cans and McFastfood wrappers.


That's when the halogen light bulb went off in my head and I had the most brilliant idea:   Tern Lake, Midnight Sun, Supermoon-plus-one.   Combine all three and THAT definitely was a Kodak moment, even if my camera is a Nikon.

I continued on my way.  Plenty of time.  Moonrise was just before midnight.

Tern Lake at 11 PM.

And that's where I was at 11 PM--in my kayak at Tern Lake, wedged in some grasses for stability, waiting for the moon to appear in the east.

Another breath-taking moment:  my camera precariously balanced on the kayak's curved bow.   I'm covered up with jeans and a sun shirt, not for warmth, but for protection from the mosquitoes.

I whiled away the hour watching the Arctic Terns trying to chase the Mew Gulls away from their nests, and the vanquished Mew Gulls trying to chase me away from whatever they thought was so important in the little patch of marsh grass where I waited.

Bully.

And waited.

The little blue frog on the bow has been a constant companion in the kayak since I found him floating in the lake

And waited.

And waited.

Zip, zilch, nada.   The moon was a no-show.   Rats.

Can't you just imagine the sight of a big, beautiful, pink moon rising over those distant mountains and reflecting off the lake water?

Ah, well, it was a good idea nonetheless.   Turned out it was a Kodak moment after all.   Folks driving past took pictures of some crazy lady kayaking on Tern Lake at midnight, of all things.


THIS!   This is what I SHOULD have seen.   This photo of the Supermoon was taken in Juneau by Leticia McRae.   She posted it to Facebook, so I'm sharing.   And envious.   Soooooooooooo envious.

 

https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=617658734919810&set=a.434786406540378.103554.100000270686813&type=1&theater





Oh, and about those out-of-focus shots of the gull?   I can take in-focus photos of birds in flight, but these terns have the most delightful and helpful ability to hover in the air:

This is an Arctic Tern flying away from me.   Late at night, so the bird's colors don't show.

On Supermoon Weekend, It's All about the Midnight Sun

So there's supposed to be this fantastic moon this weekend and tonight, a moon that works its magic on the tides and creates the largest bore tide of the year at Turnagain Arm.   The crazy bore tide surfers will be out there riding that wall of water that moves at 15 to 20 mph.

Another year, another bore tide.

Closer and brighter, they say about the Supermoon.  Would have been nice to have seen it.  Unfortunately, it hid behind clouds in this area.   For us in Alaska, though, it was upstaged by the sun--the Midnight Sun.

Tern Lake, 11 PM,  June 13, 2013.   Note the sun is still shining on the mountains.

Cloudy night.   I had to reduce the exposure a few stops to get a more accurate representation of the ambient light.

In Anchorage and Fairbanks, baseball games were played at midnight with no artificial light.  In Anchorage, it was two Alaskan teams, so no big deal.   But in Fairbanks, the locals played a team from San Francisco and I'll bet those guys were amazed.   The TV sportscaster was wearing sunglasses on the 10 o'clock news.

Officially, we had 19 hours and 21 minutes of daylight at the Solstice.  Unofficially, it just doesn't get dark.  Around two-ish in the AM, it's kind of twilighty.

I love it when tourists ask, "When does it get dark?"

That's a straight line I simply can't resist.

"September," I respond.

Don't look at my pathetic winter-killed lawn.  Look at the mountains in the midnight light.

Taken at midnight a few days before the Solstice when I remembered some droopy plants that needed water.

Sound odd?   Not to me, not after 65 years of living here.  This is normal for me, and I love it!  It makes up for all the darkness during winter.

At the Midnight Hour.

No flashlights needed.