Image processing: before and after

I took a cou­ple pic­tures of the Milky Way tonight, as is my wont, and decid­ed to present you with how it looked com­ing fresh out of my cam­era, and how it looks once I’ve cleaned it up. Enjoy!


Clouds in the afternoon

I made a time­lapse video of the clouds while we were at the farm last week­end. It’s about an hour, with pho­tos snapped every 10 seconds.

And since it turned out so well, I did anoth­er one yes­ter­day, out my upstairs win­dow. Longer this time—there are about 4½ hours of clouds in this one.

Slaughterhouse-Five: the graphic novel

As beau­ti­ful, haunt­ing, fun­ny, and bru­tal as the orig­i­nal nov­el. The art is amaz­ing, and com­ple­ments the sto­ry perfectly.

My review on Goodreads

I first encoun­tered Kurt Von­negut, Jr., when my room­mate in first-year uni­ver­si­ty was read­ing Galá­pa­gos in an Eng­lish course. I read the nov­el and decid­ed it was garbage¹. It just kind of… end­ed. I did­n’t see the point. Von­negut, I decid­ed, was overrated.

Years lat­er, I decid­ed to give Von­negut anoth­er try, and I read what is, in my mind, his most famous nov­el: Slaugh­ter­house-Five. Maybe it’s because I was old­er, maybe it’s because it was a straight-up anti­war SF nov­el, maybe it was because I knew bet­ter what to expect, but I loved it. I went on to read sev­er­al oth­er Von­negut nov­els (Cat’s Cra­dle, Break­fast of Cham­pi­ons, Time­quake), and I’ve loved each one. Von­negut’s nov­els are dif­fer­ent, I think, because they don’t gen­er­al­ly have a vil­lain. They’re just… the way things are.

So it goes.

And then I heard that Ryan North, of Dinosaur Comics, was involved in a graph­ic nov­el retelling of Slaugh­ter­house-Five, and I knew I had to have it. So I pre-ordered it from McNal­ly Robin­son, and it arrived last week.

It’s great. The two-page spreads of Dres­den are, respec­tive­ly, beau­ti­ful and hor­ri­fy­ing. The sto­ry flows like a Von­negut nov­el, and the art com­ple­ments the sto­ry so, so well.

High­ly rec­om­mend­ed for fans of Von­negut’s nov­els, graph­ic nov­els, or anti-war stories.

¹ When Kurt died and went to Heav­en², I re-read Galá­pa­gos, and this time I thought it was great.

² At a memo­r­i­al ser­vice for Isaac Asi­mov, an athe­ist, Vonnegut—also an atheist—said, “Isaac’s up in Heav­en now,” because it was the fun­ni­est thing he could think of to say. So it goes. So it goes.

Autumn Aurora

Aurora Borealis

Space Weath­er pre­dict­ed Arc­tic auro­ras (orig­i­nal­ly the storm was pre­dict­ed to be stronger, but got down­grad­ed). Some­times that turns out, so since it was clear last night, I head­ed out of town for about an hour.

When I ini­tial­ly set up, there was noth­ing real­ly hap­pen­ing, auro­ra-wise, but I decid­ed to shoot for a while any­ways. If noth­ing else, I’d have a half-hour star trails image. The moon was full, so I’d have a nice bright fore­ground, too.

Con­tin­ue read­ing “Autumn Auro­ra”

All right, autumn can be pretty

Autumn Leaves

Those who know me know that I much pre­fer spring and sum­mer to fall. I love the new growth of spring, and I would much rather wear shorts and T‑shirts than long johns and parkas. Autum­n’s begin­ning brings with it the threat of inevitable win­ter, and it makes me some­what melancholy.

But I will grudg­ing­ly admit that ear­ly autumn, before the cold sets in to stay, has its own charms.

Con­tin­ue read­ing “All right, autumn can be pret­ty”

Series: Bike Ride Photos

The entire series: Down by the riv­er; Bike ride birds; The ex-gar­den and the weir; Snap­shots of a ride; Across Town; Black­bird; North Hill cam­pus; Lilacs and coun­try roads; A pop of colour; Back lane flow­ers; More Breniz­ers; The riv­er is high; A bird and a reflec­tion; Rideau Park; Writ­ing Retreat 2020, Day 7; Writ­ing Retreat 2020: The Num­bers; Storm dam­age, sun­flow­ers; Eleanor Kidd gar­dens; Scenes from today’s ride; All right, autumn can be pret­ty.

Stargazing with the gang

I went out to Image Hill again, but this time I had a posse. My broth­er-in-law Cy and all three nieces at the farm decid­ed to come with me. It was anoth­er dark, clear night, with a breeze verg­ing on a wind.

I did about a 45-minute star trail shot (above) while they all lay on the ground and gazed at the stars. I also got a shot of the girls check­ing out the Milky Way.

The nieces checking out the galaxy

And one of just the Milky Way, for balance.

The Milky Way behind a telephone pole

And a sin­gle frame from the star trail com­pos­ite, with the trail from a mete­or in the low­er left, and the Big Dip­per next to the tree.

Tree, Big Dipper, and a meteor

Image Hill; fog

Milky Way from behind a tree

Last night Kath­leen sug­gest­ed I check out Image Hill for some astropho­tog­ra­phy. Since it was only five min­utes’ dri­ve from the farm, I checked it out.

I got about 25 min­utes’ worth of star trails (I set my timer for 30 min­utes but my cam­era bat­tery had oth­er ideas). 

Star Trails at Image Hill
Star Trails at Image Hill
Con­tin­ue read­ing “Image Hill; fog”

Clear skies at the farm

The halfway tree at night

We got to the farm last night in the dark, and the skies were clear and star­ry. So, after vis­it­ing for a bit, I took my cam­era and tri­pod out in the lane.

Godspeed, Ron

The sign for Kalbergs' Värmland Farm

We got a call on Thurs­day evening, late; lat­er than Kath­leen’s mom Mary usu­al­ly calls.

My father-in-law, Ron, died sud­den­ly on Thurs­day. He’d gone out to clear some bro­ken branch­es out of the brush, and he did­n’t come back in. Mary found him by the tractor.

Ron’s obit­u­ary

We spent the week­end out at the farm. On Sun­day, I went out in the yard and on the road, and took a few pho­tos, as is my way.

Sign for the Conservation Corner contributed by Ron & Mary
Con­ser­va­tion Farm
The Halfway Tree between Brandon and Winnipeg, viewed from the east side
Every­one’s favourite: the Halfway Tree
A panorama of the yard at the farm, with a tree on the right side
An attempt­ed panora­ma of part of the yard

As Kath­leen said—and I agree 100%—at least he died doing what he loved: being mad at a tree.