July sky

This was sunset Friday evening on our way home from somewhere or other.

This sort of color usually doesn’t last long. We had to find a place to stop so I take a picture of the sky without getting run over. A few minutes later the pink was gone and the clouds were all gray.

This mackerel sky on Sunday was a little earlier in the evening.

I took this outside a Taco Bell, but I doubt that Taco Bell had anything to do with it. When we went across the street to get a loaf of bread, I took a panorama.

If you have sharp eyes, you can probably tell what parking lot this was.

It rained

Saturday morning around 6 it started raining. There was lightning, thunder, strong wind, and heavy rain. I’m not sure how long it lasted, but by the time it ended we had about two-thirds of an inch of rain. When I checked our front yard, I did not admire what I saw. Where I had just finished seeding and trying to repair the erosion from earlier rain, I found more damage. It wasn’t terrible, but it was enough to convince me that I’m not going to make the yard perfect. This year, at least, there will be some washed out ruts with no grass. Plenty of time next spring and summer to try to fix that.

Along about sunset on Saturday we got another tenth of an inch or so. The strongest part of the storm missed us and continued south towards Atlanta. Leah looked out the window and pointed out the storm clouds.

These were towering thunderstorms. The entire storm stretched from Cartersville, around 25 miles away, nearly to the I-285 perimeter road around Atlanta, about 40 miles as the crow flies. It had to be a strong storm to push the tops of the clouds up into the sunlight when it was nearly dark here at home.

Yesterday we got no rain, but others not too far away did. Late in the afternoon it was raining over town, but not here. This is all we got.

The secondary bow is barely visible above the main rainbow.

Monday afternoon as we munched on “Mexican” food 10 miles or so from home, it poured for around 20 minutes, plenty of time to wash lots of topsoil and grass seed away, if it had been raining at home. But it only drizzled, at least by the time I sat down to write this post. There are still showers around, moving slowly to the south-southeast. We may get more.

Tuesday the forecast is for a 40-percent chance of rain. Again, we may get some. If not, I’ll have to sprinkle the grass seed and hope it survives. I will also need to water a bunch of juniper bushes neighbor John pulled up from his yard and gave to us. They were severely root bound, so they face more problems than just water. John also gave us three plants of unknown species, but maybe what’s called butterfly bushes. They were fairly mature, probably 12 feet tall, but they left most of their roots in the ground when they were pulled out. They were very wilted by evening Monday. I assess their chances as very poor, but I’ll put them out, water them, and hope for the best. Their blooms were attracting butterflies even as they lay in the back of the truck. It would be nice to have them somewhere in the yard.

To rain, or not to rain

I have written about my efforts to get grass planted in the larger, further reaches of our front yard here and here. I have finally reached the point that I am watering a seeded area, although at a rate far less than recommended. Last year I prepared and seeded an area about a third the size I’m working on this year. I watered far less than recommended then, too, but we were fortunate enough to have nice, light rain showers at just the right time. The result was a good growth of grass.

Last year I divided the seeded area into thirds, and lightly watered each third several hours apart every day for several weeks. This year, with so much more area, I can’t water the entire area in one day. This is not good. Walter Reeves, a University of Georgia plant specialist and popular gardening expert in Georgia, says that Zoysia seed must be kept moist or it will die. When I water (carefully preserving our precious underground fluids), I get a small part of the planted area wet, but not wet enough to stay wet very long in our hot Georgia sun. So far during the process, we have had either not enough or too much rain.

On Thursday, it looked like we would get rain. Possibly too much, possibly just enough. Here’s what the weather radar looked like at 3:45 Thursday afternoon. The rain was south of us and moving fairly quickly towards us.

Here’s a later radar image.

The pushpin is our house. The rain is almost upon us. It’s 4:10, and it cannot possibly miss us. Here’s our front yard as the rain approaches.

The rain is visible, just on the other side of the ridge. The low clouds appear to just clear the ridge on the left, and the rain is coming down hard, hiding the sky and the land behind it. I put a row of straw bales at the bottom of the grassy part of the yard to try to slow the runoff that erodes our prepared area. It does almost nothing. The darker earth in the middle is where I sprinkled earlier.

And then, Like the Red Sea parted by Moses, the rain divides itself.
But maybe we can get a little, just the edge of the hard rain. That might be even better than having the heaviest part of the storm pass directly over us.

And then, at 4:45, Moses decides even a shallow sea is too deep.

Here is the radar at  4:50.

We got no rain at all. The green over our pushpin is rain so light it didn’t reach the ground.

It’s Friday night. The Atlanta weather forecasters are predicting two bands of rain for tonight and early Saturday morning. They show rain passing directly over us. Today I spread some straw lightly over most of the seeded area, as Walter Reeves recommends, hoping it will prevent the hoped-for rain from washing all our work away. By the time I get up Saturday morning, I’ll know whether I have to sprinkle the yard again, get another load of topsoil to replace everything that washed away, or (one hopes) sit back and admire the well-watered front yard.

 

 

Pink clouds

Just before dark Friday evening, all the world was suffused with a warm glow from the clouds, which were illuminated by the setting sun. This was the view to our south from our driveway at the back of the house.

Just as I got my iPhone out to take this panorama the color of the clouds started to fade. Just a few seconds earlier the pink was deeper.

This was the view from the front of the house, towards the east.

This shot was taken about a minute after the previous one. There is a thunderstorm cloud just at the left edge of this image. It’s a smaller cloud in front of the elongated cloud on the left. The elongated cloud looks  like the top of an anvil cloud, but I think it was actually not associated with the thunderstorm. The thunderstorm was located about 20 miles away over a little town called Adairsville on I-75.

The clouds on the right of the lower image are the same as those on the left of the first image.

Of course there was no good or easy way to capture the warm glow on the ground and the clouds in the same image.

Red surprise

When I walked the dogs on Thursday, this caught my eye.

And no wonder. As you can see, the leaves and twigs at the side of the road were almost monochromatic. This red fungus was a surprise.

I’m almost completely ignorant about fungus, so I don’t know what this is. The closest I could find online is Sarcoscypha dudleyi, which, this Web site tells us, is microscopically different from Sarcoscypha coccineaa similar cup fungus found on the West Coast.

Maybe someone who knows their fungi can say for sure.