Navajo National Monument, Arizona, October 1, 2011.

This image is in the following video, which can also be accessed here.

Child of farmer sitting in automobile waiting for father to come out of general store, Jarreau, Louisiana; photograph by Farm Security Administration photographer  Russell Lee in November 1938.

Library of Congress image.

Janet Huckabee Arkansas River Valley Nature Center, February 25, 2007.

1000 words #3

Arkansas River below Dardanelle Dam, February 15, 2007

1000 Words #2

Bona Dea Trails, February 6, 2007 – Russellville, Arkansas

1000 Words #1

“Williams, C.S.A.”

By William Gilmore Beymer – published in Harper’s Monthly Magazine, September, 1909. (see related 1863 Harper’s Weekly article )

“Who had done his work, and held his peace, and had no fear to die.”

Two men came riding out of the dusk of the June day. Why? For nearly fifty years the reason has been sought—and never found. They came from out the dusk, tarried for a little in the twilight, then passed on into the great night, bearing with them the answer to a question that will never die so long as history tells their story.

If it might have been that they had lived, and that their completed work had been an answer to that ride up Figuer Hill, what might not the history of the Confederacy be to-day?—that Confederacy, passionate, hot-blooded, all-loving, all-sacrificing Confederacy, struggling to slay a nation, travailing to bear a nation, and who died, her nation yet unborn. They, too, died, and with them passed the answer.

The 8th of June, 1863, was nearly done. Within the earthen bastions of Fort Granger, perched on the crest of Figuer Hill, the camp-fires which had cooked the evening meal were dying to dull red heaps of embers; to the west, at the foot of the bluff, a hundred and fifty feet beneath the muzzles of Fort Granger’s guns, lay the little town of Franklin, the gray thread of the Harpeth River between. The Tennessee hills ringed the town; the enemy were somewhere beyond the hills, for the war had come the winter before to Tennessee. “Stone’s River” had been fought at the coming of the new year, and the Confederate army had sullenly withdrawn to the south, to Tullahoma, thirty-six miles away. Winter had passed, spring was passing into early summer; Rosecrans sulked at Murfreesborough; Bragg, at Tullahoma, lay in wait for him. But the cavalry of the South waited for no man. They menaced everywhere, but most of all at Franklin, the Federal right—an outpost—weakened now by the withdrawal of all but two regiments and a small force of cavalry. Forrest’s cavalry ranged the country somewhere just beyond the hills; Wheeler was circling, no man of the North knew where, yet very sure were they that he would strike—somewhere. That part of Tennessee dominated by Federal troops, by the Army of the Cumberland, was in shape a fan, a partially spread fan upside down. Nashville, the base of supplies, was the pivot; from Nashville there radiated roads—pikes they call them in Tennessee—the sticks of the fan: to the southeast, to Murfreesborough—and Rosecrans with the main body of his troops; to Triune, more nearly south—the vertex of the fan; to Franklin, a little southwest—the outpost of the army. Of dark blue was this half-open fan, dark blue, dusty and worn; not jewelled, but aglitter with points of steel.

Franklin had been attacked on the 4th, and Colonel Baird had beaten off the attacking force. Since then they had waited, watchful and oppressed; expecting Forrest, dreading Wheeler, all hut certain of the return of the Confederates from Spring Hill, but six miles to the south.

It was hot that night, they say—”a hot, murky night.” At headquarters, up at Fort Granger, Col. John P. Baird—of the 85th Indiana—commandant of the post, sat at his tent door, talking with Colonel Van Vleck—that same Carter Van Vleck from whose time-yellowed letters have been plucked so many of the intimate details of this story.

Two men rode out of the dusk; two stranger officers, unattended, unescorted. Colonel Baird, in surprise, rose to greet them. They were superbly mounted; their uniforms and equipments showed them to he officers of rank and distinction. At their new merino havelocks Colonels Baird and Van Vleck must have stared; havelocks were unknown to officers and men, either North or South, except as something “foreign,” something to he looked on askance. They dismounted and strode forward, tall, straight, dignified. The elder and taller of the two introduced himself as Colonel Auton of the Army of the Potomac; his companion as Major Dunlop, assistant in the inspection of the Western troops, for which business they had been sent from Washington. They had just come from General Rosecrans at Murfreesborough. Oh yes, they had of course come through Triune, and had seen Gen. Gordon Granger too. As this Colonel Auton talked he made more and more of an impression on Colonel Baird; it was with positive regret that he heard they must push on to Nashville that very night. There was something very engaging about this handsome, dignified young officer, with his easy grace of bearing; a note of brilliance to his conversation, which was withal frank and quiet; an indefinable air of distinction and individuality in all he said and did. Colonel Baird seems to have grown more and more interested and attracted. He urged them to stay the night with him.

It was impossible. Would Colonel Baird kindly have their passes made out? And so the order to make out the passes was given, and while they waited, Colonel Auton told of their misfortune. They had lost their way from Murfreesborough, and had got down as far as Eagleville; the rebels had attacked them, had captured their servant, his (Colonel Auton’s) coat and all his money; they had been pursued for a long distance and had finally escaped with difficulty. It was all very unfortunate. The distressful situation of the two officers appealed to Colonel Baird. The passes to Nashville were brought out just then, but were sent back for correction; they had been made out to Colonel “Orton.” Auton led Colonel Baird aside; it was most unfortunate, but — they were quite without money. Could Colonel Baird oblige them with the loan of one hundred dollars apiece — any sum, then—for their immediate expenses ? Colonel Baird did not have the money, but went at once to Colonel Van Vleck, who had been sitting smoking in incredulous silence; of him he asked the money—when they were out of earshot, that the strangers might not be embarrassed! Colonel Van Vleck’s letter of October 28, 1883, gives his own reply:

I told him that I thought the men were not what they represented themselves to be; for, said I, the Government would not send two officers of their rank from the Potomac to inspect the Army of the Cumberland, when we already have more inspectors of our own than we know what to do with. Neither would Roseerans send them from Murfreesborough through the enemy’s country without an escort, and if he had done so foolish a thing, and they are what they pretend to be, why should they insist upon going to Nashville to-night without any offer to inspect the troops here, and this after such peril to get here? Again, I added, is it not strange, if true, that the rebels should be able to capture the Colonel’s servant and coat and all his money and yet he get off so safely himself and with his lieutenant?

I declined to let the money go, immediately arose, and went to my own tent, saying to my surgeon, whom I found there, that the two men who were attracting so much attention by their havelocks were certainly spies. [continue reading…]

I don’t know why they’re there.  We saw similar piles elsewhere in this park and Arches National Park..  It’s better than graffiti, for sure.

Canyonlands National Park, Utah, September 28, 2011.

This image is in the following video, which can also be accessed here.

[continue reading…]

I’ve never seen a tornado – and I don’t really want to.

People sometimes remark that they wouldn’t want to live in a place where tornados occur.

While I can certainly understand that sentiment, I’ve lived 52 of my 61 years in places where tornados can – and do – occur.

(above) Category F5 tornado (upgraded from initial estimate of F4) viewed from the southeast as it approached Elie, Manitoba on Friday, June 22nd, 2007.

Fifty-two years in tornado country and I still haven’t seen one. Thirty-three of those have been in an area highlighted in red on the tornado activity map, on the right.

One tornado came close a couple of years ago, within a couple of miles.  However, there was nothing to be seen from here as the funnel was likely rain obscured.  That storm went on to cause quite a bit of  damage a few miles down the road and, further down it’s path, there was a fatality.

For early warning, we subscribe to a weather alert auto-call notification service from Channel 7 in Little Rock that goes to our phones and e-mail.

We do have a (home made) storm shelter and we have used it a few times in the last couple of years.  Its made of concrete blocks with the holes filled with concrete and rebar.  The ceiling and floor are made of rebar reinforced concrete.  The shelter is actually a safe room inside the house and is partially below grade level of the outside ground. It’s just the right size for the two of us in comfort. It was built first and the addition was built around it.  Right now, we have a couple of chairs down there, some bottle water and some snacks.  When we get a warning, we only grab a few things — phones, computers, med, glasses — and head on down.  With modern communications on our phones and computers, we can determine pretty quickly when  the track of the storm is going to miss us.

(above) Project Vortex-99. Occluded mesocyclone tornado. Occluded means old circulation on a storm; this tornado was forming while the new circulation was beginning to form the tornadoes which preceded the F5 Oklahoma City tornado (May 3, 1999 tornado that badly damage Moore, Oklahoma).

Our home may be in a location where it is somewhat protected by the terrain.  We are on the north side of the crest of a ridge that runs east to west – perhaps 5 feet below the highest elevation in front of the house.  Most, not all, tornados seem to travel towards the northeast.  Growing up in Nebraska in the 50s, I remember that the plan if a tornado was coming was that we were supposed to go to the southwest corner of the basement – below ground level on the side the tornado was most likely to come from — the house, if hit, would be picked up and blown away from that side. Our thought, which may not have any validity, is that storms here in Arkansas will usually approach us from the southeast and, following the terrain, may rise up over our place, minimizing the damage.

It doesn’t matter whether we are right on this point or not.

We’re going to be in the storm shelter – protected by reinforced concrete and the earth.

(above) Picture of the “double tornado” that hit the Midway Trailer Park in Indiana, killing 14 — April 11, 1965, Palm Sunday Tornado.

(below) Storm chasers in their car inside a tornado.