Wednesday, 3 September 2025
So, I stepped out onto the balcony late this morning to do a goat-check, even though they’re ranging where I can’t see them (this is a good thing with regard to their goal of vegetation clearing). I indeed couldn’t spot them, but I got to hear a light rain begin. That’s rather a magical moment, when it goes from not raining to raining.
Wednesday, 20 August 2025
This bunch is leaning toward the light. I feel like I’m doing that now, as the dark has arrived early…accompanied by thunder and precipitation…whatta surprise (remember yesterday).
Saturday, 16 August 2025
8:45am. Let me draw your attention to the wave action product. I was surprised to find two sticks perpedicular to the waves, although one is parallel, which is what I remember seeing ?every? time. I arrived too late for the sunrise, but I could see the far shore more clearly than I have seen for days. Yay.
3:45pm. Another short shower. I raced around closing windows, but not too much as the temps were dropping from the oppressive 79°F, so I wanted to capture whatever cool the breezes brought.
Not much wind, but it came up and blew lightly in from the west. Change, to the south. Oops, switched again, to a bit from the north. See: the window closing dance.
After the storm drifted away, it actually felt cool. Cool: magic. [Still sticky, however.]
Wednesday, 13 August 2025
MaNachur rained herself out in the dark hours, so that I found this spider web plastered onto the screen—obvious against the tree-obscured dawn sky…however, I could not get the focus correct. Ahhrrrghhhh.
A few moments later, the next screen had no web, but instead gem-streaks—and a first peek of the sun.
Tuesday, 12 August 2025
We had another late afternoon/early evening rain/no-rain rotation, once again substantiating the “if you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes” saying. Sometimes it’s more like a half-hour, but the pattern remains.
Also, I learned the Norwegian word fallvinder, which refers to strong downdrafts (at tornadic speeds) along the coast, that descend from the land across the coast, then compromising watercraft. The word was in a NYTimes article about experimental archaeologist Greer Jarrett, who’s been imitating Viking sailing, mostly long-distance trips along the western Scandinavian coast. Fallvinder were an underestimated danger Jarrett’s voyages highlighted. The boats were mostly 30-footers, and not the longships favored by artists and film-makers; he says they’re what most folk used. His over two dozen voyages illuminate what routes, islands, and ports were mostly likely used, and not necessarily previously known.
We experinced no fallvinders today at the cottage.
Monday, 11 August 2025
We saw quite a range of rainfall types, but not the heaviest. This was one of the more intense periods. It’s stopped now, and is rather cool—very appreciated given that the humidity in the sticky 90s. The plants sure needed the rain, so I’m happy, too.
Sunday, 10 August 2025
Dusk with goldenrod, 9:13pm.
Sky over the lake to the east, 10:07pm.
South sky, 10:11pm.
Saturday, 9 August 2025
People in places with changeable weather often pay special attention to the changes. The striking red sunrise reflects the smokiness, although the AQI was below 50 for part of yesterday, today: higher. And hot, hot overnight, whew, so that the downstairs only got down to 78°F even at dawn. Sticky. And we smelled smoke off and on all morning.
Around two, rain came in ushered by a moderate wind, so we hustled about to close windows. Fortunately, the temp dropped so that by 6pm it was down to 70°F on the front porch (!!!). Thankfully, now it’s quite pleasant—the humidity is lurking around 82%, and the AQI has dropped to the low 50s.
Yup. Lots of weather variation….
Thursday, 7 August 2025
The before-the-sun sky seemed a bit clearer, yet still slightly obscured by the Sky-Smoke deity.
We took a wee drive north to see if the Lake Superior shore breeze would seem even clearer. It did, a bit.
Wednesday, 6 August 2025
There are rumors that the smoke-murk will lift tomorrow. I can’t wait.
Next, I’ll be begging for rain; it’s darned dry out.