Grassy Creek

There has been virtually no rain this summer. 

The creek at the Coke Field has been very low and 

dry in some places. In past years I've seen little fish, turtles

and scared up a few herons. Not this year.

This past week has seen three days of rain, 

but too late for the usual denizens of the little creek.

As I stood on the bridge Friday, I saw dragonflys

as big as Huey helicopters playing out

their mating rituals in the air, but there were

no little fish, no turtles, and no herons.

There was, however, grass in a rocky area that

was sufficiently dry for it to take root.

With the newly fallen rain flowing around it,

it makes a bright, clear picture.

Textured Tuesday: Too Little, Too late

After a summer with temperatures that ran 10 to 20 degrees 

higher than normal and very nearly no significant rainfall, 

the temperatures have broken and and it rained heavily twice

within a four day period.  But its too late for the crops and a lot

of the trees. Much of the midwest has been declared

a drought disaster area. In my neighborhood, many of the trees

have dropped at least some of their leaves, while some of the 

smaller trees have died. 

Nuthin' Here but Us Weeds, Boss!

When I go to the Coke Field, I will usually see little fish in the creek, 

a turtle or two basking on the rocks, maybe scare up a

nervous heron. Not this summer. It seems like forever since

we've had a good soaking rain, which means the creek is very shallow.

A mile or so farther down, closer to the Speedway, 

the creek bed has been bone dry.

I still get to see birds flying in and out, warning their brethren 

of my presence, and dragonflys hovering and darting 

among the flowers. Unfortunately, my camera

is not fast enough to catch them in my frame.

Textured Tuesday: Tan Days of Summer

These dried flowers give a general impression 

of what summer has been like for much of the country.

However, I was pleased to see the delicate

lines and shapes the dry weather has revealed

to my otherwise oblivious eye.

If sea urchins went to visit the Midwest,

this is what they'd look like.

Some Rain

I spent Friday afternoon at the Speedway watching

a new addition to the weekend's annual NASCAR events -

sports car racing on the track's road course.

After three months with virtually no rain, the afternoon

was interspersed by heavy showers.

Luckily, these cars will race in the rain and did so,

with a number of tire changes, alternating

between drys and wets.

The above picture was taken at the same creek bed

I showed a few days ago, only today it has water in it,

enough to reflect the trees from which the

brown leaves have already fallen.

Fever

This picture was taken July 15, not even a month into summer. 

The leaves are already tired and falling from the trees

to the point that natural resources people are

concerned that some trees may die if they don't get rain soon.

The time on my monitor reads about twenty of nine

in the evening and the temperature is 100 degrees.

Here, a portion of the creek that runs south,

parallel to the track, is usually wet with 

sufficient water to support a few tiny fish and

a couple ducks with their broods of ducklings,

grazing along the banks, eating bugs and grass.

This year, as you can see, nothing.

On a hot afternoon, this waitress chose the only quiet spot 

to smoke and check her text messages, in the alley

between the building and a delivery truck.

I think, if people could, they'd be lying under the trees

like dogs, on their sides trying to cool their bellies,

suit jackets and ties askew, attache' cases carelessly

flung down. Oh, yeah, that's what bars are for, where

the people lap up martinis and beer.

The temperatures have finally broken, and are down 

to a more "seasonal" 80 to 85 degrees,

rather than the previous 90 to 105 degrees.

However, we are still enduring drought conditions

with no relief soon. The grass is turned to

straw, the corn crops are endangered, which means there

is less food for cattle, as well as endangering

other food crops.

Water

How much we need, how much we get, is such a delicate balance, like the colors in this picture. So far this season, just about every other day has been cloudy. Last summer, we had drought conditions, the thunderheads of anticipated storms passing just to the north, lightning within the clouds serving only to accentuate the heat.

This year, we would, if possible, share some of our rainfall with the people in the Southwest and Florida, to put out the brush fires and save their homes from burning.  Folks along the Missouri and Mississippi Rivers have, once again, been losing their homes to flooding. I'm sure they want the rivers to retreat to their banks. A lot of this can be attributed to our human conceits, attempting to impose controls that have, in many cases, reached up to bite us in the ass. Have we gone too far to ever achieve some sort of happy medium?