Moving toward equinox

Recently, I noticed a brilliant sunrise was in progress.  I grabbed my camera and recorded the picture just below. It was taken on 3/07/22.  Jeanne reminded me that the equinox was coming up and I thought that it might be fun to follow the change in each day's sunrise point until then.  

Each morning thereafter, I checked out the horizon, hoping for more amazing colors as the sun appeared.  I got some beauties.  

This is a record then, of where the sun rose each day. You'll notice that some days are missing. That's because the cloud cover was so heavy that I couldn't get a picture. 

This was taken on March 9th.

 

Taken on March 12th

Taken on March 13th. Not very exact, but you can see that it has moved since yesterday. 

Taken on March 14th. 

Taken on March 15th

March 16th

March 17th

March 18th

(No visible sunrises for a few days.)

March 22nd.  Up until today, I was shooting all my pictures to the right of the palm in the middle of the picture. Today, as you can see, the sun is coming up well to the left of that palm. The next couple of shots give you a closer look at this sunrise.   

Here comes the sun on the first day after equinox that I could see it.  

 Thirty seconds after the picture above.  I like this one.

And I like this one, a close-up of the preceding photo, even better.  I looks as though the sun is in the middle of the clouds, not behind them.  

That's it for this series of photos.  I've had a good time each morning between sips of coffee. I hope that you enjoyed seeing them.  

I'm writing this on Friday, March 25, and haven't taken any decent sunrise photos since the one above.  

I got some pre-dawn shots of Mars, Venus, Jupiter and Saturn, all in one part of the sky yesterday, but by the time dawn arrived, heavy clouds and drizzle prevented any further clicking.  

The shots of the planets really pleased me, but that's the subject of another, albeit brief, post.  

Take care.   -djf

UPDATE:

I might as well show you a couple more since I have them. I took them this morning, Saturday, 3/26/22.  

High tide, low tide

I am one of the most fortunate of grandparents ever, in my opinion. For several years, when they were young, I walked our grandsons to and from school every day.  It was their primary school and each morning and/or afternoon, Jeanne and I shared the pleasure of accompanying the boys to and from Summerland.  

One day, it occurred to me that the school was inhaling in the morning and exhaling the students and caregivers in the afternoon. There were easily as many grandparents as there were parents walking the kids to school each day, and I reveled in the joy of being part of the process.   

I was reminded of this form of 'respiration' that I saw at the school recently when I walked along the Opanuku Stream.   

We, at Waitakere Gardens, are located less than two miles from the bay that leads into the Pacific Ocean. Our stream is in a constant, and rhythmic 'respiration' of sorts of its own, as the tides rise and fall along part of its length, culminating at the bridge near our village.  

I have come to recognize that the stream is never static. It is always rising and falling, much like our own chests do as we breathe or like the school does with its daily influx and outflow of families.  

I like being able to feel the earth and moon communicate, if you can call it that. The force that they follow and that rules the universe is visible daily in my little stream.  While I can't feel them directly, I know how real they are by observing their effect. Further, I have seen evidence that the birds are even more aware than I am of this power.  

Let me show you what I see when I walk.

This is a bit of the Opanuku at low tide.  

This picture was taken from roughly the same point at high tide. 

That's a sleeping duck which has floated at least 80 yards downstream since I've been watching and taking pictures. Who knows where it'll be when it wakes up? 

Low again,

and high tide at the same spot.  

This tiny rapids is just downriver from the previous pictures' location.

This upcoming video was shot at approximately the same location, but the tide is quickly covering these rocks and is causing the stream to appear to be running 'uphill.' 

Just after you start this video, let me suggest that you stop it for a moment.  Right about in the center of the picture, you'll see two bits of rock sticking out of the water. They are small, just a few inches across and a leaf floats first by the smaller, and then floats up to the larger.   

You'll notice that by the time I pan back with my camera and show them again near the end of this 1-minute video, that the smaller of the two rock 'islands' is gone, already covered by the incoming tide. 

Notice too, all the fish that are swimming around in the incoming waters. The water is hard to see into I know. The lighting isn't ideal and the surface of the water looks dirty. It's actually a heavy layer of pollen. If you keep watching however, you'll see that the water is teeming with fish.   

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QSLcozb6wac

Here is a picture of the Oratia Stream, which passes within about 100 yards from the Opanuku at one point. (That's why they're called the Twin Streams.) 

The stream normally flows from the left to the right. What I'd like you to notice though is that there is a large semi-circle of debris and pollen accumulated on the down-stream side of a fallen tree that is hung-up in the water. That's because of course, the tide is making the stream run upstream right now.  

Here is a photo from the same place at low tide.

At the beginning of this post, I mentioned that I felt the birdlife along the stream was even more attuned to its power than I was.  This is why I said that.  

One my way back from taking some of these pictures, I was walking across the bridge over the Opanuku.  I heard a bunch of ducks making a racket down below.  

As you can see, they are grouped together and were very animated.  Normally, the ducks seem to stay together in pairs and certainly don't make a racket. 

The water is nearing the top of the rock shelf on the upper left of the picture.  That means the tide is coming in.  I think the ducks were excited about that and saying so. Mallards do eat small fish, although vegetation is their preferred food.  

These folks know it's time for the small fish to come in as well.   I see them here a lot.  I don't know if they are catching these small fry for bait or for consumption.  A frying pan full of small fish makes every bit as good a meal as a pan full of one big one.  They use a very fine net that is about 20 inches square and supported by four strings.  They lay it on the bottom and then rapidly pick it up to trap the fish.  

I took the two pictures just above this one before I went into the grocery store to buy a few items.  By the time I came back to the bridge, maybe 15 minutes later, and took the picture below, the rising tide had completely covered the rock ledge, visible in the first picture.  I took a wider angled picture this time to show the ledge was completely submerged. 

The ducks at this point in time were all under the bridge, but still making a ruckus, maybe arguing about who would go first through the seafood buffet line.    

I said that I was fortunate earlier and it's true.  I've had a meaningful retirement, and it continues. I see our grandsons growing and I continually learn about the natural world, a-la-New Zealand as I observe it. I have even been able to watch how the planets and stars cycle during the year.  I could claim that the whole universe seems to be 'breathing,' but that would be just too corny, so I won't.  

 But I haven't yet seen everything there is to see, so I will keep watching...     -djf

p.s. 

One more photo.  I went back across the bridge a little later.  Look how high the tide got!

What is it?

I was walking down Edmonton Road on my way home from my morning hike, and came into view of the Falls Café/Bistro across the carpark. Today, there was something new positioned in front of the Bike Hub, a bicycle rental/repair place.   

It was big and bright yellow.  I thought it vaguely resembled a high-power spotlight, the kind you sometimes see at auto dealerships that pan back and forth across the night sky, trying to lure in the buying-public 'moths' with its 10 million candle-power promise of vehicular excitement. But this thing had a platform around it and some round parts that didn't make sense if it was a spotlight.  

Hmmm.  I had my camera of course; wouldn't leave home without it. I had intended to follow the sidewalk to the corner and and walk around the Bike Hub area, but changed my plans.  I had to get up close and personal with whatever this new thing was.  And there was no one else near it. I'd have it to myself.  

I noticed that there were no power cables running to the thing.  Therefore, it needed no electricity to work.  (I did discover it was sun-powered)

The business end has eight pairs of lenses stacked vertically.  

And observe, you can look into the other end.  (Notice the big vertical wheel-shaped thing on its side and the smaller, similarly shaped horizontal wheel below that.) 

Looking closer, I can see it has a central mirror, besides the lens arrangement.  

After investigating its insides, I discovered that I could adjust the lens assembly up and down with the big wheel, or side to side with the small.    

I started turning them one-handed, bringing the device into rough alignment with the sun.  I started getting a rainbow pattern on the walls.  

That's what it is, it's a Rainbow Machine!

 

I didn't have it perfectly aligned with the sun at this point. Close, but no cigar.  

I think if I had put my camera down and fiddled with the wheels a bit more, I could have filled the interior with additional bows, but I had seen enough. I understood what it was.  

I came back again the next day when the Bike Hub was open and asked the guy working there where this had come from.  

He told me that the Auckland Arts Council had bought it a few years ago and had been placing it in similar locations all over Auckland since then.  It was Henderson's turn.  He didn't know how long it might be making rainbows here.  I'll have to return and play with it some more. Maybe get a really full rainbow inside. 

This is a pretty impressive sun toy.   -djf

Update:  I walked by there this morning, 3/18, and it's gone.  Moved on to another location. I really thought it would be here longer....Good thing I told you about it when I did.  -d

It's a small world after all.

 

I've been taking pictures of little bugs. Bees are one thing, they are relatively large, but when the bugs get really small, it's hard to get good shots of them.  Still, it's interesting and the resulting pictures are not too bad...well, some are better than others.  

This one is at most 1/4 inch wide and less than that long.  

I also saw this same species on the railing of a bridge over the Opanuku. Here are those shots.

It's a gorgeous place, in a 'jungly' (like a jungle) sort of way. 

And here is one more on a plant at Waitakere Gardens. What amazing, tiny wings. 

This is a crane fly I believe. 

I like this close-up.  It looks like a machine.  Talk about -0- body fat. 

These first three critters on the white background that I've showed you were sitting on the stucco wall of our balcony last night. You can see that this last one is really small.  The stucco looks like a field of boulders. 

These are aphids on Jeanne's geraniums.  

She gets rid of them by adding one drop of vegetable oil and two drops of dish soap to a spray bottle of water.  Applies liberally.  I keep telling her to also add a drop of hot sauce to the spray. Maybe the word will get around the aphid community that there's a real nasty character on our balcony.  They might stay away. 

Ants on a concrete pedestal next to the mop-headed hydrangeas. (These were taken next to where I took the bee photos from the first bee post.)

These are not big ones, like carpenter ants.  They're tiny little guys.  

Two views of some sort of fly on the railing of a pedestrian bridge over the Opanuku.  

Lichen growing on the same railing.  Not even as tall as the fly.  

 
I was just about to go to bed one night when I saw this female mosquito on the wall in our bathroom.  It is an amazing little creature and beautiful in a way.  At least it was before I squashed it.  

One morning, I found this tiny worm in our apartment.  How it got here I can't imagine.  Possibly was carried in on some vegetable that Jeanne harvested and brought up.  At any rate, I had the bright idea to photograph it on a small make-up mirror of Jeanne's.  Worked out great.  Who knew they have tiny 'hairs' on them?

Yesterday, I was coming in the entrance from the African Garden and almost stepped  on this little critter.  This one is smaller than you might think; just over an inch long.  

That's it for now.  Hope you've enjoyed this 'little' look at the small fry among us.  (I have a lot more pictures - just a hint of things to come.)       -djf