Weather Thou Goest

On his way home from work Friday night, ProfessorRoush turned onto the road leading to his house and, facing west, the sky ahead was this:

My first thought was "that's a rain cloud forming."  My second? "But there's no rain predicted until at least Sunday."  I took the picture from my front windshield to capture the moment.

Such, my friends, is the fickle nature of moisture in a Kansas summer.  Six weeks ago, we hadn't had any rain for several weeks after a fairly dry spring and the prairie grasses were showing some signs of drought.  Then it rained 6 inches in thirty-six hours and filled the ponds and soaked the ground and on a day no rain had been predicted.   Following that we had no rain for a month and the grasses were going into dormancy.  Earlier this week, we had 1.5 inches, predicted as a 30% chance, but the previously predicted late week and weekend chances all faded away as the weekdays passed.  Just this morning, the local weather channel and my phone app predicted only small chances on Sunday. And nothing today (Friday) or tomorrow.

But the cloud pictured above came in and provided a 30-minute heavy downpour, dumping an inch of badly-needed rain in that period.  To further illustrate our fickle weather, as I wrote these words, the radar looked like this as another storm moved in and yet, by the time I finished, the sky had cleared and this storm had evaporated, providing no moisture to ground level.  How could it miss?  How could it not rain?  The leading edge of that rain is only 5 miles from my location!

Eastern Giant Swallowtail butterfly

But enough nonproductive ranting and on to more pleasant topics.  I was pleased, recently, to have this perfectly formed Eastern Giant Swallowtail butterfly (Papilio cresphontes) cross my path while I was weeding, allowing me a brief "hello" and photo opportunity with this member of the largest butterfly species in North America.  I'm convinced God made no creature more fragile yet more exquisitely colored in a detailed pattern of intricate color than this butterfly.  Dante Alighieri was most certainly correct when he said "Nature is the art of God."

Arrowhead Orbweaver spider

I was a little less pleased, but still fascinated, that very same afternoon when I noticed this Triangle Orb Weaver (Verrucosa arenata) hanging out around the garage door as I passed by to enter the house.  Once I determined it was harmless, I returned its favor of benevolence and merely paused there for a photo of its adornment.  It is easy to see why one of the other common names for this spider is the Arrowhead Orbweaver!  One wonders the purpose of such a visible signpost, when surely matte black would suffice for a spider's garb, but, perhaps, its purpose is just that; to leave me wondering about the purposes of the Divine.

Baker's Daylilies

'Old Barnyard Rooster'

I think, today on Garden Musings, we'll just let the photos of  these 13 beautiful daylilies speak for themselves, borrowing, without shame, the meme of a fellow blogger who does a "Wordless Wednesday."  I captured these images walking along the border bed in back of the house all in about 20 minutes on a single morning (7/12/2025) as the sun rose. Which is your favorite?

'Prairie Blue Eyes'

'Timbercreek Ace'

'Awfully Flashy'

'Beautiful Edging'

'Storm Shadows'

'Big Rex'

'Blackberry Sherbet'

'Cosmic Struggle'

'Cream Desire'

'Joan Derifield'

'Laura Harwood'

'McBeth'

 

Singular Fleetation

ProfessorRoush was nonchalantly driving through Manhattan Thursday when, near downtown, I passed this tremendous, floriferous display of Hibiscus on a street corner.   My first thought was "Oh, how beautiful!"   My second was "Oh how unusual!"  And my third thought was "There's a message here that I've got to blog about." 

I was instantly captivated by the bravery of the unknown designer; instead of landscaping the corner for four-season structure and color with, for example, a common and unexciting planting of purple barberry, gold-tipped or blue-hued evergreens, and glaring yellow 'Stella de Oro' daylilies, some audacious landscaper or gardener had chosen to make this corner eye-catching for only a brief seasonal moment, for the relatively brief bloom period of this magnificent blushing Hibiscus.   Indeed, given the 95ºF heat and searing sun of this mid-July day, this could conceivably have been the peak hour of this grouping in the entire year, the blooms wilted beyond recovery shortly thereafter.  

These cheery Hibiscus were blatantly placed to flirt with the passing traffic, the horticultural equivalent of sticking a shapely, sheer-stockinged leg out to catch the driver's eye, sultry Sirens luring unwary road warriors off the pavement.  And I was not immune to their allure, braking to grab an iPhone photo, and then circling the block for another, and yet another, risking a collision and not caring, lost in wonderment.

Unusual.  Singular. Fleeting. Flirting.  I hereby dub this and similar displays to be "Fleetations";  fleeting flirtations intended to enthrall passing foot and automobile traffic.   "Fleetation," defined as "short-lived coquetry intended to capture attention." And there it is, my legacy for the world, a new English term perfectly fitting the moment and this display. "Fleetation".

My point is this:  instead of a conventional and ultimately unremarkable landscaping choice, the bold visionary responsible here chose to trade mediocrity and longevity for exceptionality and temporality; to replace apathy and artlessness with passion and perfection.  By doing so, the artist is rebelling against "modern" landscape norms and, why not?  The real purpose of space decoration is to prompt joy, invoke happiness, and display beauty, and all those goals were clearly accomplished here.   It may not be "four-season interest", but it did serve its purpose and it both drew my attention and elicited my admiration.  I tip my hat to thee, unknown genius, and I vow to explore the unique and unorthodox in my own garden; to create a world there more pleasing to me and less encumbered by what others think it should be.

Photographic Evidence

ProfessorRoush is absolutely certain, 100% positively sure, that other avid amateur photographers/ gardeners/ astronomers/ BIRDERS have looked at the countless advertisements for those inexpensive telephoto lenses that can be attached to your phones to take perfect pictures of distant objects and wondered "do they really work?"  I'm a little eccentric, yes, but I am fully aware that I'm not uniquely unhinged and that I'm in good company in all my hobby interests.  Besides, you know as well as I do that if you pause a second at a photo of a bird on, say, Facebook, the social site will then follow up with an ad for a telephoto lens to tempt you, and if you pause again, then God Help You;  you'll be bombarded with similar ads for weeks.

My recent trip to the Quivera National Wildlife Refuge awakened a desire to have a real telephoto lens on a digital camera, to be able in a few months to reach out and photograph Sandhill cranes from across the salt marshes, but I'm just too cheap to spend multiple thousands of dollars right away on a lens for my Nikon.  So, I got to thinking about these little iPhone lenses and soon purchased one:  this one.   The $72 package contained the lens, iPhone mount, lens cap, and a little light tripod.

In due time, it came in and I began exploring what it can do.  The actual 30X lens is heavy and feels well-made, and the mount lets you switch from vertical to horizontal format without detaching the camera.  Surprisingly, if you know a little photography and have a good tripod, the pictures from this thing are not half-bad.  There is a bit of a learning curve, and it is imperative that your iPhone camera is set at 2X or you get a "vignette" photo, but the images are passable for the cost. 

This house finch photo was taken during my learning phase last weekend through the closed kitchen window and I took all the other  photos on the page with the camera and phone on a tripod out the window within a 5 minute timespan yesterday evening.  I was excited when the red-bellied woodpecker made an appearance.  The photo below, taken without the lens through the window and with the iPhone camera set at "1X" gives you an idea of the power of the lens.   I've circled the distant garden bench in red and the near feeder and red rose ('Hope for Humanity") in white.  The yellow thistle feeder is the small one to the right of the red rose.

So, the APEXEL lens is a decent tool and a cheap tool at that, and I got what I hoped for and expected;  a chance to capture reasonable photos of some distant wildlife up close and personal.   I'm satisfied, yes, but I also now know, with certainty, absolutely 100% certainty, that I'll use this lens this fall, be mildly satisfied and yet mildly dissatisfied, and likely, by spring, I'll be the owner of a massive and expensive telephoto lens for my Nikon D3300 digital camera.  

Maybe, however, I'll try to grab a few photos of the next full moon first.  This garden bench is about the same apparent width at that distance.