Spring still life with sleet storm

Cottonwood, Kiplinger Road

On a whim, we left at 5:30 a.m. to chase sage grouse on the high plains. Note: if your whims routinely drag you out at that hour on a Saturday, you either have very peculiar whims, or else have stumbled into the world of birding. Those are not necessarily contradictory. We are at the edge of Greater Sage Grouse territory and have to travel a bit to see this spring display up on the higher plains where there is...wait for it...sage.

Sage grouse are normally seem as specks in the distance, and this year was no exception. What was exceptional was the closeness of the lekking we saw last year. Rather than post a picture of an animated speck, I'll refer you to this post. We were close enough to see and here the male go through the booming and strutting motions, but not nearly as close this year.

We think it's spring, but the appearance of a storm with rain, snow and sleet mid-day has us questioning that. The birds seem to have no questions.

Paired geese

Barbed wire still life

Sign, Kiplinger Road

Post office historical marker. We found three of these today. 

First sign of the storm

A tiny monument north of Belle Fourche. It was worth going 15 miles out of the way to see. 

Just in case you had any doubts. 

Bear Butte as the clouds begin to form

Minuteman missile silo still life

Permission to trespass? 

Truck memories

Sign, Orman Dam

Poser

Schoolhouse

Bear Butte as the storm builds

Storm front on the plains

Immature bald eagle, trying hard for the white head

The point at which the trip was effectively over

Bear Butte eternal

Nebraska in (almost) black and white

Tipi at Agate Fossil Beds, framing the Bone Cabin

For the first time since I moved back to the prairies, I was able to co-lead one of our field camps. This one focused on the geology and paleontology of Agate Fossil Beds National Monument, an under-appreciated gem in the Nebraska Panhandle. I had grand plans of posting something from there every night. 

Let me tell you about internet and cell phone connectivity out there. They use the finest cotton string money can buy. But the light and the quietness were more than enough. Two weeks was nowhere near enough. 

Now we are on our way back East for another couple of weeks. I'm sure I'll be connected, but I'll miss the deep peace. 

For some reason, everything looked more real in black and white, except the eclipse. 

Bone Cabin, from Carnegie Hill

Bone Cabin fence

Bone Cabin fence

None shall pass

Weathering paleo sign

The solar eclipse. You've heard how they say not to put the special glasses over your camera lens and shoot the sun? Me neither. 

End of the eclipse

Carhenge, where the Chevies dwell...

Dino sculpture at Carhenge

Carhenge sculpture, incoming storm

The covered (station) wagon

Time capsule

Bear-dog at Agate

Thunderhead. Only appreciated by West Texan and other prairie kids. 

Storm coming in

Weatherphiles

Tiny cloud leading the advance

Here in no particular order are a few storm shots. It's been a strange summer. I've been using the strongest mental power I can muster to move this down to the Texans, who need the rain so desperately.  

Major storm just grazing the campus

Major storm building

Smoke and storm clouds at sunset

Hail clouds rolling in

More bad weather

Saturday sunset

It's official. South Dakota has some of the most extreme weather in the country, and we don't consider discussions about the weather to be small talk. We are in the season of hot days and occasional violent evening thunderstorms. Last week the small town of Vivian, SD, made the news with the largest hailstone ever recorded in the US. The stone in question was part of a hailstorm of unimaginable ferocity. Practically no structure was left unscathed.

This has been certified as the largest hailstone on official record. It was apparently not the largest one that actually fell in this storm, just the largest one collected. Photo from the Rapid City Journal.

Here are more more images from the past few weeks.

Storm front sweeping in from the northwest.

Same storm front, view to the east. The temperature dropped 15 degrees in 5 minutes.

Storm coming in over the new building, to be followed by the ritual Dance of the Roof Leak Bucket Brigade. The good news is that our guys seem to have found and fixed all the leaks so far.

The little winter

Spring sunrise in South Dakota

As the wiser ones predicted, our luck with the weather did not extend to a third drive into Nebraska this weekend. Spring is like that up here. The birds return on the great flyway migration north, the trees start budding, the bulb plants poke up greenery, and then a snowstorm sweeps in from nowhere. Since our plan was to take the field trip on tiny roads that the Nebraska DOT listed as being under "extreme caution," which does not bode well for vans full of students, the leader took the option of cancelling the trip. The correct, if disappointing and frustrating, option, in my opinion.

Of course, the wet heavy snow melted by that evening.....

This is part of what John Nichols, in The Milagro Beanfield War, calls "the little winter that always occurred after the false spring." He describes it as follows:

"The ritual Death of the Fruit Tree Blossoms began toward the end of every March when, after a long hard winter, warm air coursed lovingly into the Miracle Valley, leading all the fruit trees to believe spring was just around the corner. And, believing this, their sap began running, their buds grew fat, their branches suddenly burst forth into flowers. … Whereupon, inevitably … there ensued a final week of frost and frequently snow that turned into blizzards … and all the fruit tree blossoms were killed and the subsequent summer came and went without so much as a boo! from a single pear, apple or plum."

That's us. We're there. 

The birds, however, are here, and are not going away. They see the end of winter in sight, even if we get frustrated by the changes. I think they're on to something....

Meadowlark singing in all directions, on a snowy spring day.

It's spring, the bread is is its final rise, and I think we're ready for the next crazy-busy month. It's a day of quiet celebration for all.

Catching up

Light on the drive home from Piya Wiconi

It's a cold, lovely Saturday morning with snow showers in the forecast, a perfect day to catch up on a number of deferred (OK, procrastinated) tasks and assignments. I've made tea strong enough to stand a spoon in, because I'd rather hibernate, honestly. Yesterday morning, though, stumbling awake at the usual time, I saw the thinnest rim of blue-light sunrise for the first time since the winter solstice. Spring is creeping over the horizon. Time to get things going; no time to laze.

So I will spend the day writing, with perhaps a detour to make teacakes. Baking and writing are interconnected for me, and the baking forces me to take breaks and let the subconscious work on the writing. The aroma is a magnificent bonus.

In the meantime, here are some shots from a couple of recent trips: a birding trip last Saturday to the Hammerquist Road area east of Rapid City, and a lovely drive through early morning fog and late afternoon light to the Piya Wiconi campus of Oglala Lakota College yesterday.  The light on the prairies in its endless permutations may be the most spectacular part of the scenery. The prairie architecture isn't bad, either.

FWIW: I was trying to show some of these online albums to our friend Pat last week, hoping she'd enjoy the views. Instead, she and Gene were tickled by my late-night fumble-fingered typos, spellos, grammos and punctos. By "tickled," I mean, of course, convulsed in hysterics on the floor. So I hope that nothing on here is still labeled Sputh Dakora. If it is, I'll kindly thank you to keep quiet about it. Just enjoy the views. Happy weekend from Sputh Dakora.

Cattle and sharp-tailed grouse, Hammerquist Road

Frozen pond, Hammerquist Road

Barn, Hammerquist Road

Light through the fog, Sheep Mountain Road area

Our Lady of the Sorrows, Kyle

Wild turkeys near White River Visitor Center

Tatanka Trading Post, Scenic, South Dakota

Scenic, South Dakota

Stone house in snowbank, Scenic, South Dakota

Shed, drive to Rapid City. I love the diamond pane window.