A Honey of an Anklet

I scrambled out of bed early to get a couple of images of the evaporation fog over Lake Thoreau, as part of my meteorology class project. And since the lake is almost always a good photographic subject, I snapped a few more of the rising sun’s line across the treetops to the west.

Our field trip for Dan Ferandez’s weather and climate class visited the Baltimore harbor by means of the pungy schooner Lady Maryland. Instructors/crew from the Living Classrooms Foundation cast a (educationally-permitted) trawl net, with a little help from us participants.

Then, as the boat tracked to and fro in sight of Fort McHenry, we examined the fauna that we’d brought up in the net. Some fish (not Rockfish, despite my overeager and uninformed ID, but rather Yellow Perch [Perca flavescens] and Spot Croaker [Leiostomus xanthurus]) that favor the brackish water of the estuary, and a couple of comb jellies (not visible in the image, but in the adjacent bucket).

A wee Blue Crab (Callinectes sapidus), as well as a full-grown one that had joined the choir eternal. And, of course, plastic rubbish, which at least was serving as substrate for some sea anemones.

For me, one takeaway was a reminder from the educators that partially full bottles of drinking water in a landfill isolate that resource from the hydrologic cycle. If you see a bottle of water that’s otherwise going to be trashed (rather than recycled), the least you can do is empty the bottle so that the water can return to the sea.

Any trip to the Baltimore harbor has to include a shot of the Domino Sugar plant. We see some thin bands of cumulus clouds trying to get themselves better organized. Leta tagged along so that she could loom over the Baltimore city skyline.

My term project for my meteorology class is fairly simple: photograph and identify as many cloud types as possible. And thus the curse of learning to be a naturalist is further heaped upon my head: it’s not enough that I can’t walk down the street or into the woods without asking myself what kind of trees I’m looking at, without stopping to look at an outcrop of bedrock, without craning to get a better view of what’s flying around. Now I have to gawp at the clouds in the sky.

I grabbed this image of some rumbly-looking cumulus clouds from the heights of the parking deck at West Falls Church metro. I’m still looking for a good shot of cumulonimbus—unlikely now that the summer thunderstorm season has passed.

Chip Clouse and Chuck Bell have the more authoritative rundown of Go Bird! Providence field trips: day two, day four.