Late Fall Storm

Blue hour at sunrise

I'm certainly not an expert on anything; least of all astronomy, but we sure have had a great number of blood moons this year.  The first one was early in the year, I was still learning my new camera and had also recently driven to Fort Collins with my younger siblings to try to photograph the Aurora Borealis, another astral phenomenon that happened this year.  I shot several good photos of the first blood moon, one blurry one of the aurora and so didn't much care to stay up until 3.30 for the second one this year, which happened last week.  My new favorite place, Fountain Creek Nature Center, was hosting a moonlight walk the night following and I did make the effort for that one.  Fountain Creek has a lot of nocturnal life, Night Heron, Sora, and Virginia Rail for examples.  I pulled into the dusty dirt lot as the sun was settling behind a purple Pikes Peak far to the west.  The tops of the mountains were still light, creating a warm alpenglow that shared its dying heat and light with Fountain Valley.  Blue hour.  The time of day when the sky is still light before dawn and after sunset, the colour temperature is blue, there are no shadows and the wind is generally calmer.  I stood out on the back porch behind the center and watched a pair of mallards swim on the dark blue pond, the chippy, musical notes of blackbirds floated up from the marsh.  After a few minutes those same blackbirds rose in a huge murmuration, a dense cloud of black bodies swirling and slicing through the air on their way to the still green cottonwoods that serve as their bedroom.  The hike was set to meet a few minutes after the light had completely faded from the night sky but before the moon rise; it was to be a full moon.  A short class was given about the moon, its phases and meanings to ancient peoples and animals.  In the thirty or so minutes that the class went on for the sky began to cloud over; thick, low cloud cover like a grey downy blanket tucking the marsh in for the night.  We put our telescope away but continued with the walk.  The moon began to rise, a greasy yellow smudge, yet it shed enough light to walk without the aid of lights.  The oak forest on the edge of the marsh was dark and still, the darkest part of the hike.  Crickets chirped in the grasses underneath the mighty trees while a few katydids serenaded their buzzy mechanical notes from above.  There's a wooden dock that juts out a few feet into the marsh from here the rustling of the marsh birds hunting the crickets is blended with the calls of the insects creating a harmony.  The group left the oak forest and pressed into the marsh proper where the small creek that feeds the two ponds gurgled happily, filled with the rains that had fallen in the high country the preceding day.  There was much talk of seeing one of the parks beavers, apparently there are quite a few of the big rodents and they are building a new lodge in the middle of the upper pond.  Maybe we didn't see one because of all the talking of seeing one.  There was a suspicious noise that sounded like a tail being slapped against the surface of the water.  We left the park and continued to the other large bodies of water further up the Fountain Creek trail, a flight of Canada Geese landed noisily, a very late arrival.  We caught up with them at the edge of the pond, where we spent some time shining a light into the water in the hopes of attracting a bull frog or two.  We followed a different path back, this one along the Fountain Creek, which was showing signs of a surge, water levels had risen by several feet during the course of the day and the many sandbars that had been visible earlier in the week were reduced in number and height.  Ian, our guide pointed out some of the unofficial landmarks in the park, Warbler Alley, Great Horn Hangout, Chilcotin ditch, which was running at full flow; a wide and deep ditch which flowed soundlessly into the otherwise melodious night.  we walked back into the park, talking about erosion and trail maintenance.  Ian showed us a bridge that was in danger of being swept away, the dark water flowing immediately underneath its wood slats and the edges showing erosion damage from water swirling into eddies created by the pillars supporting the bridge.  Further up a small cottonwood lay uprooted in the creek, a chunk of the trail with it.  The park officials have been worried that the trail that we are walking on may be completely cut out of the park and washed further down into the town of Fountain as a fine silt. This being the beginning of one of our most stable and predictable seasons the fear of this had subsided.  The walk ended; the moon perched high overhead, still a faint yellow blur through the thick clouds that were expected to pass overhead, fallout from tropical storm Simon.

Blood Moon from earlier in the year

The next morning was cold, the clouds low and thick, hiding all but the antennae that crown Cheyenne Mountain.  The temperature had dropped from the high 70's to the low 40's.  And then the rain came, it started quickly, cold sheets of angry rain pouring from the sky.  I edited a few photos, listening to the ceaseless barrage and wondering if the bridge at Fountain Creek Nature Center had persevered.