faulker015

November's full moon, currently brightening the night sky, is commonly known as the "Beaver Moon," a designation attributed to the Algonquin Tribe and now imbedded in American folklore.  The name reflects the fact that beaver are especially active at this time of year, repairing their dams and lodges and storing food for the winter months.  The latter usually consists of small deciduous trees and limbs that are placed underwater for sustenance while ice coats the stream or pond. My wife and I, frequent visitors to Philips Lake in southeast Columbia, have recently noted extensive beaver damage to small trees along the 40-acre lake.  Once a farm pond, the lake is stocked with fish by the Missouri Department of Conservation and the surrounding land was dedicated as the A. Perry Philips Park in 2011.  This is the first year that we have noticed the beaver damage and have been surprised that these large rodents made their way up from the nearby Gans Creek Valley. If left ...

On my regular flights between Colorado and Missouri, I am usually focused on the ground, studying the topography and rivers; should it be a night flight, I watch for city lights, observing the sequence of towns and cities that I have come to memorize from my numerous road trips. But tonight, as I fly from Denver to Columbia, Missouri, I will be watching the sky.  This is the annual peak night for the Perseid Meteor Shower, produced by remnant debris from the Swift-Tuttle Comet.  As the Earth crosses the comet's path around the sun, the dust particles collide with and ignite in our atmosphere, producing numerous meteors.  The Perseids are often abundant and are expected to increase in coming decades as the comet's path more closely aligns with the orbit of our planet. As I write this blog from Denver International Airport, sunset and our takeoff are still two hours away but the radar shows that precipitation is minimal between here and Columbia, suggesting that high clouds...

Back on May 26, when I flew from Washington, DC, to Geneva, Switzerland, the last rays of sunset lit the western horizon as we passed over Nova Scotia; by the time we reached Newfoundland, it was totally dark.  Within another hour, however, as we flew eastward above the North Atlantic, the glow of "sunrise" spread across the northern horizon and persisted until we angled southeastward toward the coast of Ireland; by then, the eastern sunrise had begun to illuminate the landscape. That "northern sunrise" was, of course, the southern extent of the perpetual daylight that occurs above the Arctic Circle during the month preceding and the month following the summer solstice.  The tilt of the Earth's axis produces this annual phenomenon as well as the perpetual darkness surrounding the winter solstice. As with most natural spectacles, it was a matter of being in the right place (i.e. latitude) at the right time.  Had we crossed the Atlantic farther south, I would not ...