Everything's bigger in Texas, including the wildfires

This is one time I'm thankful I don't live in the country. My roommate's brother and his wife lost their house in the Bastrop fire; it was in a beautiful forest of tall pines. Fortunately one of them was home at the time of the evac notice, and was able to get their pets and a carload of belongings out before fleeing. Many others in this fire were not so fortunate. Also, they had gotten higher insurance coverage about a month ago specifically because the fire danger was so high.

Two friends and their 8-month-old daughter have evacuated from their home near the Spicewood fire, and based on a map of fire boundaries, their house may be gone. Another family who are friends of mine left their home last night southwest of Bastrop, when an isolated but still uncontained fire broke out within a couple of miles of them.

Best fire images I've found so far: http://www.theatlantic.com/infocus/2011/09/more-texas-wildfires/100141/

For a relatively minor thing on the plus side, for the first time in at least 3 months, the temperatures are forecast to not rise above 90. Last night it was actually cooler outside than inside, so I opened up the house. The A/C has not run at all since 9 last night. Maybe I will get outside and plant something. It's about time to start the fall garden. Beyond a handful of tiny bell peppers and tomatoes, and a bunch of basil, I've not gotten much out of it this summer.

Hurricanes

One thing about living down by the gulf is that occasionally a hurricane meanders inland to gift us with some rain. Rarely they keep spinning up into OK and dump a bunch of rain there, too; it's happened twice since '07. Finally, after a very slow start to this year's hurricane season, there's one heading our way.

After hurricanes have been on land for awhile, their west and southwest sides dry up, so we have to hope that it passes south of us (but not too far south) on its way further in, in order for us to get any rain. Tropical Storm Don might arrive early Saturday morning.

http://classic.wunderground.com/tropical/tracking/at201104_5day.html#a_topad

Even a Cat 5 will weaken enough by the time it gets here that the wind won't be anything unusual (to me, having grown up on the plains), so aside from avoiding driving into water if it floods, there's no danger.

Conventions

A-Kon was a huge success, my best event ever. I was so busy that the 12-hour days at the tables just flew right by. It's good that I have that extra; Anime Overload was horrible, I think because they almost doubled the number of artist tables from last year to this year; likewise with the dealer's tables, and the number of people coming in the door did not increase proportionately. Friends tell me that the next con is supposed to be very good ("It is the land of milk and honey, and money"), and though it's not nearly as big as A-Kon, I'm looking forward to it.

The drought continues; it has rained once since my previous post. Apparently 125 square feet of garden doesn't use that much water; the water bill has been almost flat the entire time I've lived here. I keep waiting for some carrots I left to bolt, so I don't have to buy seed every year, but they just keep happily growing leaves. The grape tomato plants are not keeping a lot of their fruit to maturity, and the pepper plants won't bloom at all now. Maybe time for some shade cloth on the cold-frame.

I have gotten back on my motorcycle after two whole weeks of absence. One of those was spent in Oklahoma, the other was the con and prep / cleanup. I really wish I would've gotten to see more of you all while I was up there, but I thought I was going to get a significant chunk of income from the con, so I felt I had to do that rather than stay longer.

Rain!

I don't think it has rained here in a month. Earlier this evening I spied lightning off in the distance; a glance at radar showed it teasing us - unless that line developed further south, we'd get naught.

On the way home from a friend's place, I noticed the storms were much closer, but still not much lightning directly west of us. At home, the cloud base here dropped low enough that I could see the city's lights reflected off of it in orange, and then there was constant sheet lightning (lights up the clouds but you don't see any bolts). So I checked radar again, and YES - a huge line bearing down on us! I mobilized to get all the potted plants under the roof-line and set up rainwater catch containers.

Then I laughed in the thunder and let myself get soaked.

Zucchini; A-Kon

I am new to the wonders of zucchini. I think I lumped it in with 'squash' when my age was measured in the single digits, and refused to touch it after that for years. A year or so ago, I had spaghetti squash for the first time, and loved it. Around the same time, I also tried some shredded barely-cooked zucchini, which for some reason didn't taste like I remember zucchini tasting. It was mild and wonderful. I thought it was a fluke.

A few days ago a friend of mine sauteed some thinly-sliced zucs in olive oil, and they smelled too good to not try. They were so good I decided to try cooking them myself, which I did tonight.

I cut up half a red onion and sauteed that in a little olive oil, then added some zucs, black pepper, 3 chopped green onions, and a pinch of salt. Wow. The onions caramelized a bit and the dish tasted slightly sweet. One thing I learned: zucs shrink when cooked. They are also done a little before they look done.

I made a big wok-full, ate some, and have packed up the rest to take to A-Kon, a big anime convention (think Star Wars if you don't know what anime is; it's a gathering of fans of a particular kind of fiction) this weekend in Dallas, where I'm selling my jewelry. I leave in about 11 hours. A-Kon was my biggest event for years, until the Norman Medieval Faire surpassed it this year.

Enchanted Rock trip

About a month ago I did an overnight camping trip at Enchanted Rock, which is a group of granite domes (old lava bubbles) due west of Austin. The area is not unlike Quartz Mountain, albeit 1/4 to 1/3 the size. I went with a friend who has not been camping in a good long while, and never in this part of the US at all, so I was playing the role of guide somewhat. He took off work during the week so that we could avoid the weekend crowds, which are thick in the spring and fall as the weather is quite nice around those times. The park was nearly deserted and we got a prime camping spot right next to the south rock.

Once we had hauled our gear the 75 yards or so to the campsite, we summited the southernmost rock, then came back and set up camp. On to the main rock - the wind had to have been blowing 50mph up there, we couldn't converse while standing in it and had to get into the lee of trees, boulders, or the bulk of the rock itself in order to hear each other. The larger two domes are a workout to summit; I was exhausted by the time we reached the entrance to the talus fissure (a long, narrow cave on the back of the main rock, with passages so small that most adults won't fit), and decided that soloing it twice on previous trips was a good reason to opt out this time. My friend, who was in better shape than I and hardly winded after summiting two rocks, decided to solo it and I would try to meet up with him at one of the exits.

Working downhill on the top of the fissure is almost as much work as moving through inside it, albeit not nearly as claustrophobic. The cave is caused by the lava dome cracking down one of its flanks at some point long ago, and boulders and slabs of rock piling up in the crack, leaving a small convoluted tunnel about 300 feet long. My friend made it through with good speed, and we proceeded to try to find a way down the backside of the rock to the north, continuing to move along the line of the fissure - harder than what I did on the previous trip, when we went back up a ways and then south.

On the way back as it's nearing sundown, a pack of coyotes is gathering nearby for their evening out. This is my friend's first time to ever hear them; I play call-and-response with the coyotes before apparently mortally offending them (they went silent after the third exchange). As dusk descends, we play 'spot the deer' on the way back to camp.

There being a burn ban in effect, stories are told around the florescent lantern until bedtime. The waning crescent has long since set, and wow I can see star colors out here... I originally figured I had found Mars when I first saw Arcturus. And a small meteor, and a smudge of a distant galaxy easily visible that I'd never seen before. The inside of my tent is illuminated by starlight! The wind has calmed down now.

Coyotes sing me into dreams, and I hear them once more later on. There's an owl off in the distance. I can hear the hesitant footsteps of deer through our campsite. Later, the wind flows down off the rock but skips over the camp, rustling my tent only once, even though I can hear it susurrating through the trees for at least half an hour. It calms again.

I keep waking up (because of some fool mockingbird that sings for half the night) and keep finding it pleasantly cooler every time and still reassuringly dark, and keep on going back to sleep.

At breakfast, a bold squirrel who has obviously been fed by people before begins to investigate our picnic table. He comes back later and moves up right behind my chair, then alongside it, checking out the bottle of milk I'd set on the ground. As we're about to leave for the morning hike, my friend asks me if I know what kind of bird has a blue head, yellow back, and red breast. I wonder if he is not a little dehydrated before I spot one of these: a male Painted Bunting.

I had no idea anything that colourful existed in Texas!

We start the hike along the creek bed, dry now in the drought. But wait, there's a big puddle, not stagnant, with tiny fish in it! And more downstream... the creek is 2/3 dry, 1/3 puddles connected with tiny trickles that grow larger the further downstream we get. I take off my socks and shoes, and give my feet long scritchies in the fine gravel under cold water. Feels wonderful after going to bed footsore the night before.

We spot some frogs, a crayfish, and a butterfly that I still have not been able to ID. It's shaped like a hairstreak, complete with tiny tails, only larger, solid black, with a few bright red spots, and a metallic blue body + patches of same colour on the upper surfaces of the wings. Half the size of a swallowtail. He's so intent on drinking from the damp sand that I catch him easily between my fingers, something my brother and I used to practice. A quick look and then I let him fly off.

The creek deepens into a swamp, so we turn uphill towards the rocks. I have never been on the third-highest rock, so we strike out in that direction. During one of the several rest breaks that I've been initiating, movement catches my eye and I turn towards a tall jumble of rocks not 30-40' away to see a ringtail for the first time! Someone else's photo, again. She moved just like a cat, and her face looked a little more cat or fox-like than in the picture. She went along the outside of the rocks for about 5 seconds, then down into them, where her den probably is. No idea why she was out during the day, but she didn't seem to act strangely otherwise.

We start towards the top of this rock, giving the ringtail's den a wide berth, and discover several overhang shelters and a short tunnel through near the top of the rock. Unlike the talus fissure, there's no trash in this one, so I can only guess that most people don't know about it. Probably helps that there is no marked trail to the summit, such as it is, on this rock.

We have to be out by two, so it's time to head back. I tend to pack light - we didn't do any cooking, just ate on things we'd cooked or bought - so teardown is relatively quick. I figure we did at least 5 miles both days, and a lot of that was up/down hill. Next time I go I want to bring a telescope.