The low sun turned the brown leaves on the trees gold.
Dusk
I walked out to talk to Daddy Owl who was on the nest in Susan’s tree hooting up a storm. It was too dark to get a photo of him, but the orange dusk was begging to be photographed, and Jupiter was in Gigi’s tree.
The persistence of “the same as it ever was” is alive and well. Photos of night-time, the moon, planets, dawn, sunset, and dusk prevail. It’s déjà foo† all over again. And again. And again. And again…
Venus at dawn
Moon at dawn
Silver-lined clouds near sunset
Water backed up behind a beaver dam in the Cleatwater ditch
Gigi’s tree with clouds at sunset.
Cranes flying to roost at dusk
†Foo is a metasyntactic variable used to represent an unspecified entity (how I currently identify). It can be used to name entities such as variables, functions, and commands whose exact identity is unimportant and serves only to demonstrate a concept…
Contrails spread turn into clouds Host sun devils, then turn to gold No matter which way you look Cloud-like Vs cross the sky The occasional X makes the scene
After the clouds cleared last night, the morning’s low was 19ºF (-7.2ºC). There was not a cloud in the sky all day. The high was 41ºF (5ºC) at 3:00 pm when I hit the ditch banks for my daily ride.
Beaver Moon rising in a clear sky. Jupiter looks on.
Glenda: “Why do stinking beavers get a moon and kitties don’t?” Good Question.