Saturday, January 31, 2009

Photo Hunt #147 - Furry

The Belly of the Beast

..."The Beast" being my cat, Squeak, who lay still long enough for me to take several photos of his underside; it's really furry, and I like the variation in colors.

Photo Hunt is the brainchild of tnchick. For other interpretations of this week's theme, or to play, pay a visit here.

Camera Critters - Cat Nap

Out of sight in this photo is a small electric heater directed toward this chair. The heater brings a bit of extra warmth into this room. Sweetie Pie, my youngest cat, is taking advantage of my absence from the chair, the knitted throw, the pillow and the extra heat to take a "cat nap."

Camera Critters is the creation of Misty Dawn. Check out this week's other critters here.

Thursday, January 29, 2009

Sky Watch From My Front Door

After a scare earlier in the week (Winter Storm Watch) which turned out to give us only a short-lived light ice coating on Monday night/Tuesday morning, we have lots of sunshine today, and not a cloud in the sky! We have much to be thankful for here in central Arkansas when we consider the weather-related trauma occuring in other parts of the U.S., and in other parts of this state. When I looked outside this afternoon, there was not a cloud to be seen anywhere. The blue skies captured by my camera have not been altered in any way. What you see is what we've got.

Sky to the East

Sky to the West

Sky Watch was created by Dot and expanded upon by our retired friend Tom. This weekly theme post is brought to you by Klaus, Sandy, Fishing Guy, Ivar, Wren, and Louise. Visit the Sky Watch Friday home page anytime after 7:30 p.m. Greenwich Mean Time on Thursdays to see sky photos from around the world. You'll be glad you did.

Monday, January 26, 2009

I Almost Wish I Hadn't Checked the Weather - Yuk!


I should quit my grousing! I could live in Nebraska, or Iowa, or Minnesota, or somewhere that it's REALLY cold and nasty in the winter time.

::: counting my blessings... really ::::

Stuff and Junk

"Stuff and Junk" meaning that I have nothing of importance to say, but am posting anyway, just so my faithful readers (bless you) will know that I'm still alive.

I've been absent from the blogs for over a week now, neither posting nor commenting very much, although I have sneaked a quick look at a few of my favorite blogs from time to time.

It's year-end wrap up and new year start up at the church where I volunteer as treasurer, and I'm much involved in both, with a few more days to go before I can draw even a shallow sigh of relief.

Although I'm scheduled to "man" the office only from 9 to noon, I had a full 9 to 5 job today with no lunch break (I did raid the church kitchen and found some cheese and crackers, and made a pot of coffee; I'm in no danger of starvation) since I sloughed off last week and didn't go in on the MLK holiday. (One advantage to being the Monday office volunteer is that most US holidays are scheduled on Monday.)

The anticipated icy precipitation started about fifteen minutes before I left the church office. I had to take some mail to the post office located about 4 miles from the church, and by the time I arrived there my car was covered with a light coating of ice. I haven't taken time to check the weather forecast to see if much accumulation is anticipated, but will do so shortly. There's nothing at all I can do about freezing rain (nor any other sort of weather), but it focuses my worrying.

I would very much like to have some sort of wood-burning device in my home in case the electricity goes out, which it is wont to do when we have ice storms. I have a gas furnace, but the ignition and fan that distributes the heat is electricity-driven, so that's that. My gas stove oven won't work, either, if there's no electricity. For all my gas appliances, I might just as well live in an all-electric home when the power is out.

It's at times like these that a tropical island looks really good!

Sunday, January 18, 2009

Caught in the Web of Words - Part Three of ??

A Writing Spider

My previous installment of this story was way back at Post #37 on June 30, 2008. It was September of 1950, and I had just been enrolled as an 11th grade student in the Clinton State Vocational Training School. (I say again: not a Reform School!) If you missed that episode, and have any interest, you may read about it here.

That day stands out clearly in my mind, even after all these years. Always extremely shy (hard to believe now, but at the time it was very much so), I had always found it a bit difficult to make new friends of my own age. I grew up with older parents (at this time, Mama was 49 and my father was 64) and their circle of friends were older adults who already had adult children. My social interaction with people my own age was somewhat lacking, being limited almost totally to the time spent with them in a classroom, and I had just left behind in New Mexico all the friends I had made.

School had already been in session for about a week when we arrived in Clinton. After the required presentation of my Albuquerque school transcripts, vaccination records and the like, and completion of various forms which would allow me to become a student here, I was escorted down the narrow, creaky, smelling of O'Cedar Floor Polish, wooden-floored hall to my first class -- English III -- which was already in progress. I distinctly remember my escort opening the classroom door and presenting me, like some strange package that had showed up on the stoop; something unordered and, perhaps, unwanted. All eyes were on me, and I was all eyes!

There I stood, dressed in a dark brown, straight, mid-calf length wool skirt, a brown narrow belt and pale brown, shiny rayon blouse neatly tucked into the skirt, all worn above saddle oxfords and bobby socks; normal school attire for Albuquerque Central High. My short, dead-mouse-brown, perfectly straight hair (go ahead, picture that in your mind) was parted on the side and held in place with a brown Lucite barrette. A study in brown, for sure!

Seated at the desks in the class room were about a dozen girls and six or seven boys. The boys were wearing blue jeans and short sleeved shirts, mostly plaid. OK. Except for the work boots or cowboy boots on their feet, that's about what the boys at Central High would be wearing.

But, the girls! Oh, my... the girls! I saw a lot of colorful sleeveless blouses above full, circle skirts, most under laid with starched petticoats which showed a bit as the skirts draped over the desk seats and into the aisles between the desks. Below the skirts were, on most feet, what I would describe as shoes that looked like ballet slippers -- white or pastel, flat, slip-on shoes. Above the necklines, like halos around their faces was HAIR! Mostly blond, long, curly, and fluffy, the sort of hair I could imagine would be gaily tossed about as they talked, and flirted.

Did I feel like an ugly duckling? Oh, yes, indeed! It was going to be a LONG day!

However, the clothing shock was not quite over. An adult person in rather strange garb was coming toward me from behind the large desk at the front of the classroom. I certainly had never seen the like in any class I'd attended in my 10 years as a student. The teacher, for it was she who approached, was probably just under 5 feet tall. While she was not obese, svelte is not a word one would apply to her un-corseted body. Her facial features were what my mother would have called "strong," her nose long, straight and narrow tipped. Her hair was, if anything, straighter than my own, but dark, cut very short and 'shingled' up the back. She wore neither make-up nor earrings. Her facial skin was lovely, unwrinkled and slightly tanned, although she had dark circles under her eyes. As I recall, she wore pince-nez glasses, which I had read about, but never before seen on a 'real' person.

She was wearing a cotton, zip-front house dress, the skirt of which fell well below mid-calf, the sort of dress usually worn in those days to do chores around the house. Her shoes (which she wore to school the entire time I knew her) were a brand called Enna Jettick, black, moderate heeled, lace-up , open-toed shoes (picture below.) However, instead of stockings, she wore thin white socks with neatly turned down cuffs. She definitely didn't dress like any teacher I had ever had before.

[ I think these are the sort of shoes Loretta Young wore in the movie The Bishop's Wife. They were, at the time, touted to be just the thing for women who had to be on their feet for long periods; stylish but comfortable.]

The hand she held out to welcome me was slender, with long, nicotine-stained fingers and well-shaped, unpolished nails; she wore a plain, narrow gold band on her left ring finger.

My escort introduced us; "Mrs. V., this is Patricia G."

She greeted me with a beautiful smile, her voice low-pitched and warm. And her accent! Well, it wasn't "Southern!" Not a drawl within 100 miles! I could actually understand what she was saying. All was not lost! I felt better already.

Thus it was; my first encounter with Mrs. V., who would, over the next two years, become not only a beloved teacher, but a mentor who would begin to bring me out of my shyness, and would forever tangle me in a web of words.

More to come.

Friday, January 16, 2009

Update on Snuggles, and Brrrr!

I had a brief visit with Snuggles this afternoon. She seemed glad to see me and wagged her pretty, bushy tail as I spoke with her. She's hanging in there, but has developed a cough, one of the symptoms (details omitted) following the treatment. She is confined to her large indoor kennel except for brief, gentle walks outside as may be necessary. She must be kept from excessive exercise for some time. Still keeping my fingers and toes crossed that she's going to survive the cure.

I think it's colder than a well-digger's boot here today (19 this morning), but I'm really very grateful that I don't live in Iowa, Nebraska or the other states that are suffering from the 40 (or more) degrees below zero temperatures I have read about on blogs from those areas. The older I get, the more sensitive I am to temperature extremes; I dislike both. I had to make a run to the local warehouse store this morning to buy supplies for this coming Sunday's annual church meeting. When I left the house, I looked like Nanook of the North; layers of clothing underneath a heavy coat, a fuzzy hat pulled over my ears, and gloves -- and I was still cold.

Ah, well. This, too, shall pass, and I'll be wishing for a bit of this cold weather when the thermometer hits 110 degrees in the shade this summer.

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

I'm Still Here

A sincere thank you to friends who have been missing me here in Blogland. You are appreciated.

Well, so much for my resolve to post every day. Real life has reared its head, again, putting the best-laid blogging plans of this mouse on hold.

To answer the most important questions first: Snuggles received her first heart worm treatment, a painful shot, yesterday. She made it through that OK, but will be administered oral medication this afternoon which could be fatal. So.... we still don't know if she's going to make it. I've asked my daughter to keep me posted (so I can keep you posted) on her progress, or lack thereof. I'm a praying person, and Snuggles is in my prayers. I got really attached to her during the few days she was in my care.

It's been a busy and sad week. I learned early Monday morning that my friend C.J., the wonderful woman who told me the story I titled "
Booze in the Window," (Post 13, May 4, 2008) died in her sleep on Sunday night. All of us who knew her are in shock. C.J. was only 59 years old. She had some health problems, but nothing that anyone thought was life-threatening. Monday, Tuesday and part of today have been filled with activities surrounding C.J.'s funeral, which was at 10 this morning.

That's it. That's what I've been doing instead of posting. I've had about all this sort of stuff I can stand. I hope everyone I know and love stays healthy.

More, later.

Thursday, January 8, 2009

The Continuing Story of Snuggles

My daughter's family has had a dog, Buddy, a male rat terrier, for several years. Buddy is a pretty nice dog. He gets along great with the cats, my daughter and son-in-law, the teen-aged children and almost everyone else (Buddy loves me; I call him my grand-dog.) He's a good watch dog and alerts the family to the impending arrival of friend and stranger. In the eyes of his people-family, Buddy has only one major failing; he turns a bared-teeth growl toward the one person in the family who wants to cuddle him most, my 4 year old granddaughter, Juliana. He has never bitten her (that would send him to doggy heaven right quickly, I fear), but is so unfriendly toward her that she has finally learned to leave him alone.

Starting at about age three, Juliana has repeatedly asked for her own puppy, a dog she could love and which would love her, too. The response from her parents has always been that as long as Buddy is alive, there won't be another dog in the household. About two months ago, she figured out exactly what they were saying and changed her approach. Her puppy-requests are now prefaced by "When is Buddy going to die? I want a puppy."

Once over the initial shock of this question, our response has been that we don't know, Buddy will probably live a long time. She turns away in disgust, muttering "I want a puppy."

So-- where does Snuggles come in? I'm getting there! [for photo of Snuggles, see yesterday's post]

My daughter loves to be outside in her yard. She's always got some project going. Since the older children are in school, Juliana goes along to "help." The back part of the lot shares a fence with two houses on the next street. In one of the fenced yards, there lived a sweet little Sheltie. The dog and Juliana fell in love with each other. My daughter would see Juliana pressed up against the fence, talking sweetly to the dog with her fingers stuck through the chain link and the little dog licking on them with great joy.

Now, it so happened that this past Friday the owners of the dog were in their back yard and struck up a conversation with my daughter. They were moving, and were not taking the dog with them; little Sheltie was slated to go the the animal shelter! No! No! NO! Tender-hearted daughter could not see that happen. Juliana was going to be heart broken if "her puppy" disappeared. You already know what happened, don't you?

As of this past Saturday, the Sheltie now resides at my daughter's home. Juliana is overjoyed, to say the least, and told her mother that the dog's name was Snuggles, because she could snuggle it!

Buddy has accepted having another dog in the house pretty well -- he just ignores and avoids her. The cats are cool, except Arthur (see Camera Critters post from last Saturday) who tends to stalk Snuggles then hiss when they get about 2 feet apart. It's early days yet; I expect a truce in the near future.

Unfortunately, Snuggles' future is a bit uncertain (I've saved the bad news for last). When daughter took Snuggles to the veterinarian on Monday, it was discovered that Snuggles has heart worms (the result of being left outside in mosquito country and without preventive medicine.) Treatment is available, but is not always successful in this breed (read: can cause death.) Daughter and her husband will decide what to do when they return from a family funeral.

I'm hoping for the best. Snuggles is a sweet little dog, and Juliana will be inconsolable if she loses her.

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Snuggles - The New Dog in the House

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This is Snuggles, a female Sheltie or Sheltie mix, who is the latest addition to my daughter's menagerie. How Snuggles got her name and became a member of the family is a slightly involved story, which I will have to write about tomorrow.
I seem to not be able to upload photos from my son-in-law's computer. I came by my house on the way to church this evening, to see to my kitties, and to make this brief post. Perhaps this will make up for the very long one I had yesterday.
Ta! for now.

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

Take Highway 412. Or, How to Get Lost

Up a tree without a post

I'm out of pocket for the next few days, doing my "good mother" deeds by taking care of my daughter's home and animals (2 dogs and 5 cats) until the weekend. She and her children are going to Texas to attend the funeral and burial of her mother-in-law, who passed away unexpectedly last Saturday morning. Her husband is already there, having left immediately after receiving the news.

To keep up my resolve to post something every day this new year, I've pulled up a post I started drafting last summer but hadn't posted, until now (you will see that I am desperate for something to post about. )

Here followeth the long tale:

The Adult Bible Study Group at my church is comprised of some interesting characters. Nearly all of us are in the "over 50" category and, thus, have a lot of living under our belts. We get into some interesting conversations. Our group leader, one of our deacons, does his best to keep us in line, but along with learning a bit more about the Gospel reading for the day, we somehow learn more about each other. Not a bad thing, when you come to think about it. We share sometimes very personal information, and just like Las Vegas, what happens in Bible Study stays in Bible Study.

Deacon Richard is fond of the discussion guidelines from the Serendipity Bible, and generally prepares those in the form of a handout to get us started. Sometimes, the questions appear to be far off the topic of the text at hand. Such was the case one Sunday this past summer. The Gospel reading was Matthew 7:21-27 in which Jesus talks about the wise man building his house upon a rock. The opening question from the Serendipity Bible was "If you should become lost while driving, how hard would it be for you to stop and ask for directions?" "Depends upon your gender," one said, and went on to relate how her husband would rather drive 20 miles in the wrong direction than to stop and ask for assistance.

Which recalled to me my own "lost" story, which I had previously shared with the group when it occurred, about 4 years ago. All I had to say was "Highway 412," and everybody just grinned at me. Unfortunately, they all remembered this embarrassing episode.

I had been to visit my youngest sister who lives in northern Virginia. I can drive the 1,000 miles between our homes in two days, stopping the first night after I have about 600 miles behind me. The second day is then a relative breeze. As I do most of the time, I made the trip alone; I like the solitude and a chance to just think. I usually don't even turn on the radio, since the highways I travel run smack-dab through the Country Music Corridor and I can wear my finger out trying to find a station that plays something else (almost anything else.) Sometimes I take along a few audio tapes of my preferred music, just in case. For this trip, I had also checked out a couple of Books-on-Tape from my library, but didn't listen to them on the way up; too much pretty scenery to see and think about.

Blue Ridge Mountains - Photo from Wikipedia Commons

When I leave home, I drive east on Interstate 40 all the way through Tennessee, then turn north on I-81 along the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. I dog-leg a bit through some beautiful 'horse country' and on into the suburbs of Washington, D.C. to my sister's home. When I return, I usually just reverse directions and come back on the same highways.

On this particular trip, however, I decided to take a different route for the return journey. The route was through somewhat unfamiliar territory, down through West Virginia and into Kentucky. At the close of the first day, I found a hotel room in Elizabethtown, KY. While studying the map to plan the next day's journey, I decided that there must be an even shorter (and new) way to get home, and called a friend who frequently travels Kentucky, Tennessee and Arkansas to ask him for a recommendation. He told me "take U.S. Highway 412 when you get to Dyersburg, TN. It'll cut off 60 or 70 miles." OK, Gene, Highway 412 it is!

At dawn the next morning, -- I guess it was dawn; it was hard to tell through the heavy fog that had materialized overnight. The clock said it was time to be moving down the road, and it wasn't what you'd actually call "dark" outside, although I did have to use my headlights. So, I loaded up and headed out toward Dyersburg, TN and U.S. Highway 412, just like Gene told me to do.

I drove along in a fog so thick it was hard (impossible for me) to tell which direction I was going; the whole sky was the same gray all over; no sun to be seen anywhere, not even a lighter gray where the sun was (presumably) in the sky. Since there was no scenery to view on this new route home, I popped in one of the Books-on-Tape, a mystery story. And so I drove along, listening to the tape and watching the highway for signs indicating Highway 412.

There it was! I exited the main highway and set off to travel through new territory. I couldn't really tell where I was because of the fog, but just kept an eye peeled for highway signs; couldn't go wrong that way, could I?

I travelled along in the fog, making sure I didn't get too close to anyone's tail lights, listening to the story and checking the signs as I came across them. US Hwy 412. Yessir! Right on track! I still don't know where I am, but I definitely am on Highway 412.

The story coming from my speakers was engrossing. Time passed; I rolled along in the fog, putting miles of highway behind me. Surely I should be getting close to the Mississippi River by now. I know I have to cross a big bridge to get over into Arkansas. No Mississippi River, but part of my mind (not occupied with the mystery story) noted that I had crossed the Tennessee River. ??? I don't remember the Tennessee River as being on my way back to Arkansas. Then I noticed that I had entered the city limits of Jackson, TN! Hmmmm? Jackson, TN is definitely not supposed to be located on my way back to Arkansas! Where in the heck am I?

Pulling myself out of the physical and mental fog I was in, I stopped at a service station to check a map. Well... I was on Highway 412, alright! 412 EAST, instead of 412 WEST! I had driven a good 100 miles in the wrong direction! Talk about being disgusted with one's self! I could have banged my head against the fender!! I filled up the tank with gasoline, got back in the car, took out the tape and stashed it in a box in the back seat. I never did hear the end of that story.

Needless to say, by the time I back-tracked to where I should have turned (I'm stubborn that way), I drove a long way before I got back home! My desire for a short cut cost me about 4 hours and over 200 extra miles.

I don't think I'm quite ready to have my car and driver's license taken away, but I do more fully understand the stories about people who set out to go to Florida and end up in Canada. I don't intend to ever pull such a stunt again, even in a fog so thick I can't tell east from west! When I traded cars a year or so later, I was most adamant that it have a compass -- and I check it often!

Monday, January 5, 2009

A Bit of Ice

In central Arkansas, winter precipitation is more likely to take the form of freezing rain rather than snow. Such was the case this morning. The temperature is hovering just below the freezing point (currently 30 degrees) and a light rain is falling. The ground is still warm enough that the streets are not icy, but shrubs and trees, and the utility lines, have a light coating of the frozen stuff. It's supposed to warm to above freezing later in the afternoon, but will be very cold again tonight. If it doesn't stop raining, we may have a real Winter Wonderland in the morning. I just hope the ice doesn't get heavy enough to break any power lines.

A lonely, dried out and ice-covered leaf still clings to my Japanese Maple tree.

My wind chimes, which were ringing in the light wind earlier this morning, are now sounding distinctly off-key due from a light coating of ice. These hang near my front door right under the eaves, in a position that manages to catch water as it drips from the roof. I've tried moving them to prevent this happening, but the move also prevents them from catching the breeze. Since they have an extremely pleasant sound under normal circumstances, I've decided to leave them where they are and accept the occasional freeze-up.

The Simple Woman's Daybook

Today is January 5, 2009

Outside my window the early morning light reveals wet limbs and grass.

I am thinking of the weather and wondering if the forecast of freezing rain will be correct.

I am thankful for the gift of another day. I learned this past Saturday that my son-in-law's mother, who was only 4 months older than I, died in her home, alone. Rest in peace, Judy.

From the kitchen I smell fresh-brewed coffee, and am ready for my first cup of the day.

I am wearing
flannel pajamas with blue frogs printed all over, and fuzzy slippers.

I am going
to work in the church office later this morning... if the streets are not icy.

I am reading
Cheating at Solitaire by Jane Haddam.

I am hoping the weather permits me to get to the doctor's office this afternoon to pick up new written prescriptions.

I am hearing
thunder, the sound of rain on the roof, music from the windchimes hung outside my front door, and the neighbors' cars starting as they prepare to leave for work.

Around the house, there are daily chores waiting my attention.

One of my favorite things is checking for new posts on my most-visited blogs.

A few plans for the rest of the week include attending an Epiphany gift-exchange with a few close friends tomorrow evening (weather permitting), baby sitting my daughter's animals while she and her family are out of town for her mother-in-law's funeral, and baking a special cake for a special occasion.

Here is picture thought I am sharing:

Tools of the trade at one of my favorite Chinese restaurants.

The Simple Woman's Daybook is the creation of Peggy Hostetler. If you'd like to participate, read more here.

Sunday, January 4, 2009

Today's Flowers

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Since there are no natural growing flowers around here during this season, I drew from my photo archives for today's post. This is a portion of a lovely bouquet I received for my birthday this past September. The flowers were arranged by my granddaughter, who works for a local florist.

Today's Flowers is a weekly Meme created by Luiz Santilli, Jr. and may be found here. Please visit to see others' lovely flower photos. If you have a flower photo of your own to share, please join us.

Saturday, January 3, 2009

Camera Critters


Gorgeous, isn't he? Arthur is my daughter's Maine Coon Cat. She adopted him from the Colorado Springs animal shelter when he was a small kitten. He's now 13 years old, almost 30 pounds, and a definite lover!

I've been AWOL from Camera Critters for a few weeks, but thought the first post of the new year was as good a time as any to jump back in. Happy New Year, everyone!

Camera Critters is the creation of Misty Dawn. Check out this week's other critters here.

Friday, January 2, 2009

It Didn't Look Like This Today

Yesterday's blue, blue skies disappeared overnight. I awoke to a heavy overcast that turned into a moderately heavy fog as the temperature rose. I had to run some errands during the afternoon, and was very careful as I drove. Fog can play disastrous tricks on drivers if they are not alert.

If I were clever (and more photographically experienced) I suppose I could have managed to take some photos in the fog, but chose instead to post a more colorful shot I took earlier this week. The shrub pictured is Pyracantha and, like the holly tree of which I spoke in a recent post, was loaded with berries, more correctly called pomes, as I discovered from Wikipedia.

According to Wikipedia: Firethorn (Pyracantha) is a genus of thorny evergreen large shrubs in the family Rosaceae, subfamily Maloidae. They are native from southeast Europe east to southeast Asia, and are closely related to Cotoneaster, but have serrated leaf margins and numerous thorns (Cotoneaster is thornless).  The plants reach up to 6 m tall. The seven species have white flowers and either red, orange, or yellow berries (more correctly pomes). The flowers are produced during late spring and early summer; the pomes develop from late summer, and mature in late autumn.

While I was out and about, I made a run to the library to pick up a few mystery stories. I brought home a relatively new book, Cheating at Solitaire, by Jane Haddam. Over the years I've read most of the books in her Gregor Demarkian series; I find them well-crafted and entertaining. I also picked up several paperback books by an author I've not yet read, Rhys Bowen, an Agatha Award winner. These ought to keep me occupied for a while.

Thursday, January 1, 2009

No Chestnuts, but an Open Fire

I dined on one of the traditional "lucky" New Year's Day foods at my daughter's home this evening: Hoppin' John, a combination of seasoned blackeyed peas and rice. My son-in-law, who is a pretty good cook (actually, he's a really good cook, but I don't want to inflate his ego too much), prepared the meal. In addition to the blackeyed peas and rice, he baked a delicious cornbread casserole, and dressed up a spiral-cut ham with a liberal application of maple-flavored Log Cabin Syrup. Yummy!!

The front section of their large home (living room, dining room, kitchen and den) is heated during the winter by a wood-burning stove. We had a lovely fire this evening to take off the chill, and I couldn't resist getting a few photos of the flickering flames.

I came back home warm and full of good food, an altogether satisfactory end to the first day of this new year.

New Year's Day Sky Watch - Faster than a Speeding Bullet

Not a cloud in the sky today, this first day of the new year. When I lifted my eyes to the heavens, about the only thing that caught my eye was an airplane's contrail as it approached a very pale crescent moon (you have to look closely to even see the moon; it's that little white speck almost dead center of the frame above and just ahead of and slightly below the leading edge [right] of the contrail.)

Seven seconds later, yes, just seven seconds (I am amazed at the information stored by my camera), the photo above shows the relative positions of both. The moon sliver is almost centered below the visible contrail. That plane was moving pretty fast.

Sky Watch was created by Dot and expanded upon by our retired friend Tom. This weekly theme post is brought to you by Klaus, Sandy, Fishing Guy, Ivar, Wren, and Louise. Visit the Sky Watch Friday home page anytime after 7:30 p.m. Greenwich Mean Time on Thursdays to see sky photos from around the world. You'll be glad you did.