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Posts Tagged ‘Mars’

Oh, for more time to blog. 2020 was, in the words of a 9 year-old quoted in the media, like looking both ways before you cross the road and getting hit by a submarine. There were many blessings; for those I am grateful. I also feel like 2020 added on an extra 10 years.

But it’s 2021 now! God is in control and I believe we will see mighty miracles, miracles we’ve waited a lifetime for. To those who pray, keep praying. Even if it seems like your prayers are having no effect, each one is a shock wave sent into the spiritual realm. Deliverance and healing are coming. Soon.

People are still so angry about 2020 that I feel compelled to post a few photos expressing gratitude. Above is one of the murder of crows who waits for me at certain times of day. They know I carry treats.

If you haven’t seen the NOVA special Bird Brain, it’s worth 53 minutes of your time. Corvids are astoundingly smart. They continually crack me up with their politics and personalities.

Okay, so because I couldn’t go grab the tripod before Jupiter and Saturn went beyond the horizon, this (hilariously) is the best photo I got of the Great Conjunction. Here in the Seattle area we experienced the Solstice Storm on the day Jupiter and Saturn were closest– sun, then wind, then torrential rain and flooding, then snow (!). So we didn’t get to see the main event except online. We had to go out and look the next day.

I was very blessed to actually witness these two monster planets so close together before Saturn was obscured by a band of clouds a few minutes later. In this shot, they are aligned with the towers on Queen Anne.

At the same time, Mars could clearly be seen to the left of the moon.

This time of year, I am thrilled to see sunrises like this. An ordinary morning can suddenly light up in a multitude of colors.

Christmas Eve, I was treated to a bonfire under the only clear skies that week. I ran by the store on my way there, and when the cashier asked what I was doing, she said, “I’m going to a bonfire too!” This year we had to get creative with our tiny gatherings, and I hope this becomes an annual tradition. There is something primeval about sitting around a campfire telling old stories and sharing future plans. For thousands of years our ancestors did the same.

The moon was out that night too, gazing down over a horizon of conifers.

So happy new year all! I hope to find more time and energy to post here. There is much value in service yet we can neglect ourselves and our personal interests when our jobs, paid and unpaid, take up the majority of what we have to offer.

In 2021, I want people to feel empowered to be themselves, to know why they’re here, to break free from whatever is holding them back. The world is changing and it’s time for all of us to fully become what our Creator intends for us to be.

Though you have made me see troubles, many and bitter, you will restore my life again.

Psalm 71:20

©2021 H. Hiatt/wildninjablog.com. All articles/posts on this blog are copyrighted original material that may not be reproduced in part or whole in any electronic or printed medium without prior permission from H. Hiatt/wildninjablog.com.

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Here in the Northwest, we don’t yet know if our intermittent clouds will allow us to see Mars’ closest approach to our planet for the next 15 years. This occurs before sunrise on October 6th, 2020. Mars has been blazing in the night sky and will continue to do so for weeks, but Tuesday is when the red planet and our home marble meet to shake hands.

It is difficult to find clear patches of night sky without light pollution so I have learned to embrace the trees. If you’re not near trees, you’re probably near a building or city.

There was nothing else shining near the moon and Mars at this time on this night, making this all the more dramatic. Since the weather may or may not cooperate Tuesday, I figured I’d snap some photos in the absence of clouds.

This last photo deserved some FX. Mars was far bigger and brighter than it appears here. Tuesday it will be a mere 38.6 million miles away. Be sure to look up on October 13th, 2020 as well, when Mars is at opposition to the sun.

The planet Mars — crimson and bright, filling our telescopes with vague intimations of almost-familiar landforms– has long formed a celestial tabula rasa on which we have inscribed our planeto-logical theories, utopian fantasies, and fears of alien invasion or ecological ruin.

David Grinspoon

©2020 H. Hiatt/wildninjablog.com. All articles/posts on this blog are copyrighted original material that may not be reproduced in part or whole in any electronic or printed medium without prior permission from H. Hiatt/wildninjablog.com.

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Driving home from a friend’s house late the weekend before, I had to stop to get photos of a toasted cheddar moon and blazing red telluric Mars just above it. Little did I know that, courtesy of the fires raging in Washington, Oregon, and California, we soon wouldn’t be able to see the sky for a week or more.

The smoke began to funnel northward through the I5 corridor late in the week. At first it looked like fog. Then, on Saturday, September 12th, 2020, we woke up on an alien planet. It looked like Mars outside– yellow, hazy, dark, and foreboding.

This is the Edmonds ferry dock at Brackett’s Landing. The whole world looked like pea soup. You could barely see the ferry that had just left.

The ferry loomed like a ghost ship and was then sucked into a void. Normally you see an opposite shore. Today, there was nothing, just the edge of the world.

I zoomed in as the ferry plowed westward, but at best it seemed like an apparition in a sandstorm.

These photos have not been edited at all. This is how the beach actually looked that Saturday. You can see scuba divers coming in. I found it odd that people were still out diving, but does hazardous air quality affect visibility in the water enough for them to care?

Even the plants’ colors seemed off. Everything was saturated in this weird, otherworldly glow, like we had survived some nuclear horror and were slowly crawling out of our shelters afterwards.

As I snapped the photo of the famous orca, I mused how it appeared to be swimming in pollution. Then it hit me– how similar this is to the disgusting pollution our resident orcas live in. This is what we do to their world. This is a constant for them. Because we so callously pollute the water, each local orca could be considered a floating superfund site.

We used to rejoice when their babies were born. Now we just pray they survive the lack of traditional food sources and the industrial waste. They often don’t, and humanity goes on complaining about lack of entertainment during COVID, or rioting, or obsessing over the latest cosmetics, ignoring their cries.

I have stood here many times, but I’d never seen it look so foreign.

All day, no matter where I went in two counties, I noted an absence of birds. Far fewer birds than normal braved the rancid, tar-filled air. This crow and his seagull buddy foraged along the beach in tandem with few others in sight.

Yep. It was definitely Smoke Time.

Arriving at the north end of Lake Washington, this panorama seemed straight out of a sci fi movie. We were supposed to have temperatures nearing 80 degrees with near full sun, but last time I’d checked the temperature it was 58.

Walking out on the dock felt like walking out to the edge of a flat earth. You usually see land on all sides. Seattle, however, had disappeared. The middle of this scene had simply vanished. There was smoke, and then there was nothing.

Gazing down into the lake’s milfoil mass, I imagined one of those menacing merpeople from Harry Potter reaching up and grabbing me. No thanks.

These logs, although fixed, appeared to be swimming away from the yawing nothingness in the middle of the lake.

A gaggle of geese bobbed around like nothing was happening, the lighting exactly like the filters used to portray Mexico City in the movies. Ever notice that, that Mexico City always shows up in hazy brown or sepia tones on the big screen?

These old pilings looked like a pathway into another place or time.

Zooming in, no birds roosted here today. None flew through the air either. Aside from traffic noise, there was an eerie stillness.

One rebel Canada goose floated leisurely through the soup apart from the others.

As I was chatting with a local, we looked up and said, “what’s that?” It was the first time we’d seen the sun in a couple of days. It was a grapefruit-hued pinhole in the sky, barely piercing the blanketed glop of destruction.

The sun’s reflection in the water was just as bizarre.

At times there was a blush or rose color playing upon the undulating mocha of the lake.

While forecasters had originally said the smoke would start moving out earlier this week, that didn’t happen. The Seattle area was enveloped in a dense yellow fog again this morning… except it wasn’t fog. By afternoon we saw a bit of sunlight, prompting me to go to Juanita Beach in Kirkland to see what I could see.

Sure enough, there was the sun, sparkling down upon the latte-like lake. Yet it seemed to be a sun from John Carter, Pelelandra, or Tatooine.

The ducks were happy enough. But there were still no birds in the air.

It seemed like dusk, not afternoon.

Beyond the boardwalk there was just a fisherman and faux fog. No Seattle. No 520 bridge. Just empty space, because the west is on fire and we continue to pray for rain when there otherwise would have been summer through the end of September.

Smoke veils the air like souls in drifting suspension, declining the war’s insistence everyone move on.

Jayne Anne Phillips

©2020 H. Hiatt/wildninjablog.com. All articles/posts on this blog are copyrighted original material that may not be reproduced in part or whole in any electronic or printed medium without prior permission from H. Hiatt/wildninjablog.com.

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Did you see it? The crescent moon was flanked by Jupiter and Mars this morning before dawn with Saturn off to the left. The moon was so large and buttery and the planets so bright that it was surreal. It seemed like an epic scene out of a science fiction movie set in another galaxy, like I was speeding towards someone else’s sky.

Only after I arrived at my destination was I able to try to take photos. By then some of the colors had faded and I could not see Saturn. But seeing Jove and angry red Mars was more than enough.

A lot is going on in the predawn sky. As you climb out of your dream life and disentangle yourself from the sheets, be sure to look outside and up to catch the latest the heavens have to offer. Space.com has the day by day rundown for this month.

With wonderful wisdom the Lord God on high
Has contriv’d the two lights which exist in the sky;
The sun’s hot as fire, and its ray bright as gold,
But the moon’s ever pale, and by nature is cold.

The sun, which resembles a huge world of fire,
Would burn up full quickly creation entire
Save the moon with its temp’rament cool did assuage
Of its brighter companion the fury and rage.

George Borrow, Wild Wales

©2020 H. Hiatt/wildninjablog.com. All articles/posts on this blog are copyrighted original material that may not be reproduced in part or whole in any electronic or printed medium without prior permission from H. Hiatt/wildninjablog.com.

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