Snowcrete

That's the half-joking name for the masses of snow that have lingered for the two and half weeks since the big storm. It's been so cold—zero degrees Fahrenheit Saturday night—that the little bit of snow that that has managed to melt has quickly been refrozen into something you'd need a jackhammer to remove. If, say, you wanted to drive one of these cars on East 89th Street anytime before April.

I took the picture of the car on the right last night, and realized that I'd already taken a picture of it, a week ago. You'd have to look very closely at the two pictures to notice any difference in the amount of snow.

Urban poetry

This is something you see a lot in New York's older neighborhoods—below street level commercial spaces. This one on West 44th Street is vacant at the moment, except for the snow.

Welcome to the working week

Today was the first time since the big snowstorm that I woke up to temperatures in double digits (higher than -12 degrees for the Celciosi). It was a toasty 11 degrees, and it's supposed to get up just to the freezing mark later this afternoon.

It's been so cold that none of the snow from last week has melted; although the sidewalks are mostly clear and there are passages cut through the snow at intersections, there are piles of dirty snow lining every street. It's been so many years since this has been normal that I think we're all a little shellshocked.

Astronomy Tuesday

This recent image of Jupiter taken by the Juno spacecraft has had the color and texture enhanced to show off the cloud patterns, making the familiar planet look like a polished globe of some rare and priceless mineral.

Image Credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech/SwRI/MSSS; Processing and License: Thomas Thomopoulos

Sunday bird blogging

We're in the middle of the latest Snowmageddon (though our part of it seems to be more sleet than snow now—I'm not going to go out to investigate) so a penguin seems appropriate. This gentoo was dancing around the whale bones at Mikkelsen Harbor.

Saturday reflections

Windows on the Upper East Side, down the street from those snowy lions.

Abstract

We haven't had much snow yet this winter, but this bus window still needs a good cleaning. With the sun shining on the glass, First Avenue was just a gritty abstract.

Snow in the city

Pictures from a few years ago, just to help get me in the mood. Actually I would rather have snow than the strong winds and bitter cold we've had way too much of this winter.

The other kind of ICE

There's a big winter storm headed our way this weekend and, assuming it doesn't change course, we are supposed to get at least a foot of snow on Sunday. I'm old enough to remember when that happened multiple times every winter, and also old enough to be grateful that I don't have to be anywhere until Tuesday. (The ice in the picture was in Cierva Cove, last January.)

Astronomy Tuesday

“Today the key features of the Copenhagen interpretation can be more easily explained, and understood, in terms of what happens when a scientist makes an experimental observation. First, we have to accept that the very act of observing a thing changes it, and that we, the observers, are in a very real sense part of the experiment—there is no clockwork that ticks away regardless of whether we look at it or not. Secondly, all we know about are the results of experiments. We can look at an atom and see an electron in energy state A, then look again and see an electron in energy state B. We guess that the electron jumped from A to B, perhaps because we looked at it. In fact, we cannot even say for sure that this is the same electron, and we cannot make any statement about what it was doing when we were not looking at it.”

—John Gribbin, In Search of Schrödinger's Cat

I'm going to be studying cosmology at Oxford this summer, assuming my knee cooperates, and in preparation I've been re-reading some of my old books on astronomy and physics before tackling the class reading. Of course quantum physics describes things on the atomic and subatomic level, while much of astronomy looks at things that are incomprehensibly enormous—the Medulla nebula, for example, a supernova remnant in Cassiopeia, which is still expelling radio waves and gases 10,000 years after it blew up.

Image Credit: Pierre Konzelmann

Snowy day

Yesterday was the first day of intake testing for spring classes. The forecast on my phone said rain, possibly some sleet, so I wore sneakers that were completely inadequate for the slushy sidewalks left by hours of light but sloppy snow.

One picture is from the bus on Fifth Avenue looking into a Central Park that was blurred by focus-grabbing droplets on the window. The photo isn't black and white but might as well have been, as you can judge by subtracting the taxi and streetlight colors from the other photo, taken on the other side of the park after I got off the bus.

I managed to get home without breaking any bones, which is the important thing.

Urban poetry

When you just need a break from doomscrolling.

Cars

I've always loved the details on cars. Here are a few that have been sitting in the folder forever.

Saturday reflections

I need a lot of soothing these days, and these tranquil blues and greens are doing their best.

Urban poetry

There are a lot of alleys in lower Manhattan, but you rarely see them festooned with clotheslines and laundry.

I didn't look closely when I took this picture, off Walker Street last summer, and thought that the towels and undershirts were banners or pennants of some kind. But it's very festive!

Badland detail

That harsh geology looks better in black and white.

How about some of those bad Badlands

Since I posted pictures of the Painted Canyon badlands in North Dakota, here's another look at their southern cousins. Similar geology, very different landscape.

Welcome to the Corn Palace

Thank you to Mary Kay for providing such a cheerful welcome, and letting me take a picture of her and the Fourth of July flags in her hair.

And for the popcorn, which ensured that when you walk into the Corn Palace, you smell...corn.

I also want to mention that I didn't eat any popcorn because we had just had really excellent Mexican food, which I did not expect in Mitchell, South Dakota.

Inside the Corn Palace

There are more murals, and exhibits covering the history of the building. The combination auditorium/basketball court that takes up much of the building also serves as the gift shop.

The Sydney Opera House, in corn

This closeup of one of the mosaics shows how they do it. Twelve different colors of corn, grown locally, are used and the designs are created by local artists. The corn cobs are split lengthwise and then nailed to the walls.

The Corn Palace

The Corn Palace, in tiny Mitchell, South Dakota (well, tiny by my standards—its 15,000 inhabitants make it the seventh largest city in South Dakota) is the last of what was once a series of “crop palaces” across the Midwest, built to promote their cities and the local agriculture.

All of the art on the facade, depicting the wonders of the world, is made out of corn. The theme changes every year, and new corn mosaics are created.

Astronomy Tuesday

When galaxies collide! This image from the James Webb telescope shows two spiral galaxies (IC 2163 at the upper left, and NGC 2207,the larger galaxy in the center and lower right)

Credit: X-ray: NASA/CXC/SAO; Infrared: NASA/ESA/CSA/STScI/Webb; Image Processing: NASA/CXC/SAO/L. Frattare

A closer look at those two bison in the video

Some bison

 This herd couldn't decide which side of the road had better grazing, so we sat in a line of cars and waited for them to make up their mind.

Painted Canyon

The badlands in North Dakota are greener and more appealing than their counterparts in the Badlands National Park in South Dakota. This overlook is in Theodore Roosevelt National Park.

The rock formations are similar, with the different types of rock stacked in colorful layers, but I'd actually like to ride a horse down through those trails, while in South Dakota I didn't want to get any closer to that harsh geography than I had to.

Sunday bird blogging

Since we've been revisiting Cierva Cove, here are some more of its resident gentoos, just enjoying their penguiny lives.

Geese in Flight

This is my favorite of the sculptures. It's in the Guinness Book of World Records as the largest scrap metal sculpture in the world, standing 110 feet (33.5 meters) high and 154 feet (46.9 meters) wide. It's the only one of the sculptures that's visible from the interstate, and you can see it coming from a long way off.

The approach has mini-geese mounted on the posts, which look like they're flying up the hill.

Regent

The Co-op, and the view from main street, which may be the most North Dakota thing ever

Saturday reflections

A not very interesting look at the main street in Regent, North Dakota. It's the terminus of the Enchanted Highway, a series of scrap metal sculptures along 32 miles of road through farm country. We met the artist, Gary Greff, who started the project in 1989. He now gets a subsidy from the state, but for many years he financed the project on his own.

Happy new year!

A (bad) phone photo of one of the jumbotrons set up for viewing Zohran Mamdani's inauguration as New York's mayor yesterday. We had tickets for the viewing party, but this was taken from the wrong side of the barricades because the bitter cold and high winds made the idea of standing in a crowd for several hours unappealing, much as I like Mamdani.

Instead we walked a few blocks downtown to the Fraunces Tavern, which has been in business there since 1762, and was a favorite hangout for Washington, Hamilton, and Burr, among others. And which serves a scrumptious grilled cheese sandwich with tomato soup that made up for missing the speeches.