New camera

The new camera is a Canon SX 260 HS. I bought it on the recommendation of a Canadian. This guy. I kinda like his videos. Good place to spend time if you've got some.

I've recently had my share of time. Little under the weather. Back on the mend more or less but some of this carp takes longer than I think it should. Be that as it may, I'm glad there's abundant stuff to peruse on the interwebs. I don't do the television any more, and sometimes (can't believe I'm saying this) reading gets old. Not often, mind you. But sometimes.

At any rate, I bought the camera more for its video capability than for pictures. I've got this crazy idea that I should try to do some more professional videos than the garbage I've been putting up on the youtube from my phone.

But dang, it makes purty pictures.

So, trial images images first. Embignify by all means.

I've been fascinated by the moon for, well, for as long as I can remember. I remember standing outside and staring up at the full moon on the evening of July 20, 1969. I'd just finished watching Neil and Buzz on the Walter Concrete Show, Special First Man On The Moon Edition.


While looking up at that big, beautiful moon I was trying to sort out the scale and context in my mind. I felt like I should be able to see some sign of the LEM, but I looked and looked and I couldn't see it. From only 240,000 miles. Sheesh!

I'm astonished at how well this camera takes zoom pics. That's in idiot auto!

How many landing sites can you pick out in my image? Here's a cheat sheet.

Okay, this was supposed to be about the dang camera, not the moon. Here are a few random pics:

AirLink hauling one of my neighbors to the big city sawbones. The blurry squiggle is a dove.

Grain elevator at sunset.

My favorite local likker store. Conveniently next to my office in the courthouse.

And a couple of videos.





I'm kinda glad I'm not flying hot and high into a parking lot tonight. Young feller's game.

Anyway, we'll see how the new camera and the (shudder!) video editing go.

New Computer Blues

There was a time when it was new computer excitement.

I believe I have finally reached Olde and Grumpee.

Anyway, the new laptop arrived today and it's my first foray into winders ate pint wun. It's different, which can be a challenge for the Olde and Grumpee.

But not so bad so far.

What is so bad so far is the dern keyboard. CLUNKVILLE!  

I si[[odr it's just a marrwe opf gettina isrd tp irt. 

Which translates to:

I suppose it's just a matter of getting used to it.

And of "eyeballin' them keys" as my 9th grade typing teacher, Mr. Brohrs, put it. Mr. Brohrs was a Marine. Nothing "former" about it. He took a dim view of "eyeballin' them keys."

So I'm feeling a tad bit guilty and kind of scrunching up my shoulders just now. But my fingers are already starting to find their own way around. Hinest! (Honest!).

As long as I'm complaining, I'm still on the mend from the recent bout of bronchitis. Took a lot out of me and I hate that. Shouldn't be winded after four miles of prairie hiking. At least not as winded as I was today. Ah well, it'll come back. I hope.

I took the opportunity, while doing range monitoring, to throw myself down in the soft, cool western wheatgrass and chill. Before long a few cows and calves wandered over to see if I was really dead. I wasn't.

Over the hill there were a bunch of showy coreopsis.

On the way back to my pickup I took a shortcut (actually a longcut, but who's counting?) through a field of just headed winter wheat. Much to my delight I found a ladybeetle gobbling up itty-bitty aphids.

Which was nice. Very nice.

Spent a lot of time today thinking about my friend Karyn who lost her Dad yesterday. I'd give anything to be able to ease her pain, but of course I can't. Good thing I don't have that kind of power anyway. I'd make a hell of a mess.

The funeral is Friday up in the Black Hills National Cemetery. Long haul but a pretty drive.

Pretty sunset this evening.

Sometimes the best sunset show is over your shoulder.

Guest Post -- Karyn (Mirehouse) Groskopf

Jim Mirehouse flew F-105 Wild Weasels in Vietnam. Those who know, KNOW. I knew him almost exclusively as my friend Karyn's Dad. Only talked aviation with him one time. Always meant to get back to that conversation. Karyn called me the other day to tell me he was in Hospice. Yesterday she said he was fading fast and sent this along:


1935; this year was a very important year. Here are some facts.

-Franklin D. Roosevelt was president.

-Babe Ruth was the baseball legend.

-Parker brothers released the board game Monopoly.

-Bob Hope was the main entertainer. 

-First canned beer made its debut.  

-Alcoholics Anonymous was founded.

-Penguin produced the first paperback book.

Many famous people were born: Julie Andrews, Elvis Presley, Sonny Bono, and Woody Allen, just to name a few.

My personal favorite though; My Dad, James Howard Mirehouse was  born. 

James Howard Mirehouse  "Jimmy Howard" and/or "Jim" was born on January 15, 1935 to Gilman and Susie Mirehouse. He grew up in Augusta, Montana where he accomplished many things and graduated from high school in 1951.

Words that come to my mind right now are driven, hardworking, successful and strong. He was so many things. Being a Lt. Colonel in the Air Force, a fighter pilot in Vietnam, a proud Businessman, a Husband, Brother, Friend/Father; my Dad knew and experienced so much.

Through my eyes, though, the only man I knew him to be was my Dad; one of my role models.

When I was young I thought he was the coolest, when I was a teen he was far from being that and now he is an inspiration. He taught me so much and prepared me for my future the best way he knew how. He showed me right from wrong and was always there for me even if it had to be through voice. He always had a sense of humor and one of his "old school" sayings like "hogwash"  always made me smile. I could continue on telling many stories and memories of my past with him for miles and miles. He was that influential.

I knew this day would come as I have been preparing myself- trying to be strong. I hate for this to happen as anyone should. I just have to accept that it is his time. He lived a very successful life. He did a phenomenal job here on Earth; being my Dad who kept me feeling sure.

Whenever I had a question he would have an answer.

He was my best ever walking brochure. I love him with all of my heart and he will always be with me. I am so glad he got to be a Grandfather. Fallyn met him and enjoyed his company if only for a short time.

God has gained another angel; one who is unique and will never be exchangeable!!!   

This morning Karyn called early. "My Dad died at 5:15." A little while ago she sent this:

My mind is blank. All my emotions are tied together in one.

Grateful is a feeling I have, even though the grieving is hard.

My dad passed away this morning. He was the greatest, smartest and wisest guy I know. He always had a plan and knew what he wanted to do…hero in my heart right from the very start.

He grew up in Augusta, Montana; a place he still called home. He was a determined man proving that he could accomplish anything he tried. I cannot imagine my life without him. He will always be with me through all the fond memories I have. He accomplished his lifelong dreams and tasks living his incredible dash. He was loved much by friends and family and made an awesome impression on all. It has been a bittersweet year. My emotions running wild as I was "Daddy's girl" and still am. He is now in peace with the angels. I mentioned I feel grateful! I am so grateful that my title for him was Dad.

"Death never takes the wise man by surprise; He is always ready to go."

James Howard Mirehouse, 1-15-35 to 6-16-15 RIP

 6-16-15

Flag Day

Brown Chitis

Sometime back in the depths of the cold war I came across a list of medical malaprops. One was "Smilin' Mighty Jesus" (spinal meningitis). Another was "Brown Chitis" (bronchitis).

Well, my chest cold went to Brown Chitis. I'm on the mend and back to work but it was a crappy few days in there. Oh well.

I did read Herbert McBride's "A Rifleman Went to War," a memoir of an American fighting with the Canadians in The Great War. A kindle bargain at only $2.53 or something.

Couple of cattle vids, just for fun.









Have a great navy day!

...like thunder

At 0420 I was out of the rack and by 0450 I was where I needed to be, checking cattle and preparing to treat a pair of sick calves. It's the life of a rancher.

For the first time in weeks the sun came up without having to fight through an overcast. Reminded me of...

June!

After such a long, wet, damp, cloudy time, I can't tell you how wonderful the sunrise was this morning.

As the sun came up I thought of a couple of things. Kipling's Mandalay for one, and in particular this line:

"An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the bay!"

S

Mandalay

Rudyard Kipling

1892

By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' lazy at the sea,

There's a Burma girl a-settin', and I know she thinks o' me;

For the wind is in the palm-trees, and the temple-bells they say:

"Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay!"

    Come you back to Mandalay,

    Where the old Flotilla lay:

    Can't you 'ear their paddles chunkin' from Rangoon to Mandalay?

    On the road to Mandalay,

    Where the flyin'-fishes play,

    An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!

'Er petticoat was yaller an' 'er little cap was green,

An' 'er name was Supi-yaw-lat — jes' the same as Theebaw's Queen,

An' I seed her first a-smokin' of a whackin' white cheroot,

An' a-wastin' Christian kisses on an 'eathen idol's foot:

    Bloomin' idol made o'mud —

    Wot they called the Great Gawd Budd —

    Plucky lot she cared for idols when I kissed 'er where she stud!

    On the road to Mandalay . . .

When the mist was on the rice-fields an' the sun was droppin' slow,

She'd git 'er little banjo an' she'd sing "~Kulla-lo-lo!~"

With 'er arm upon my shoulder an' 'er cheek agin' my cheek

We useter watch the steamers an' the ~hathis~ pilin' teak.

    Elephints a-pilin' teak

    In the sludgy, squdgy creek,

    Where the silence 'ung that 'eavy you was 'arf afraid to speak!

    On the road to Mandalay . . .

But that's all shove be'ind me — long ago an' fur away,

An' there ain't no 'busses runnin' from the Bank to Mandalay;

An' I'm learnin' 'ere in London what the ten-year soldier tells:

"If you've 'eard the East a-callin', you won't never 'eed naught else."

    No! you won't 'eed nothin' else

    But them spicy garlic smells,

    An' the sunshine an' the palm-trees an' the tinkly temple-bells;

    On the road to Mandalay . . .

I am sick o' wastin' leather on these gritty pavin'-stones,

An' the blasted Henglish drizzle wakes the fever in my bones;

Tho' I walks with fifty 'ousemaids outer Chelsea to the Strand,

An' they talks a lot o' lovin', but wot do they understand?

    Beefy face an' grubby 'and —

    Law! wot do they understand?

    I've a neater, sweeter maiden in a cleaner, greener land!

    On the road to Mandalay . . .

Ship me somewheres east of Suez, where the best is like the worst,

Where there aren't no Ten Commandments an' a man can raise a thirst;

For the temple-bells are callin', an' it's there that I would be —

By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking lazy at the sea;

    On the road to Mandalay,

    Where the old Flotilla lay,

    With our sick beneath the awnings when we went to Mandalay!

    On the road to Mandalay,

    Where the flyin'-fishes play,

    An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!

The other thing I thought about was A Dawn Like Thunder and June 4, 1942. How many June mornings have been savored by free men and women, paid for, in part, by those men?

Torpedo Eight. Wickimedia Commons

VT-6, Enterprise, June 4, 1942. Wickimedia Commons

Well.

In truth, this morning I felt awful. Bit of a chest cold, and chest colds are hard on me for various reasons.

But when the dawn came up like thunder I felt better, and when I thought about Kipling and Midway and about forty-'leven other things I felt much better.

This little guy (if 175 lbs is little) didn't feel so good. He needed some antibiotic and electrolytes and an anti-endotoxin shot.

Which perked him up a bit. He's still sick, but on the road to recovery.

And with that out of the way, time to get going on the rest of the day. May you all enjoy yours!

Yes, I do have Popeye forearms. No, I'm not wearing a dress.

Wildflower Week

Today is the second day of Nebraska Wildflower Week, which is generally the first full week of June bookended by the preceding and following weekends.

Today is also the first day the sun has been out in full force for about seven weeks. That's astonishingly unusual for this neck of the woods. Eight inches of rain in May compared to the 2.75 average, 4.5 inches in April compared to the 1.25 average. With five months in the books we've accumulated more than 13 inches. Our normal annual precipitation has averaged 16.8 inches since 1893.

There's a good chance I'll be putting up mucho hay this year.

With all the cool and wet the flowers haven't really taken off yet, but here are a few (clickbignify).

Shell-leaf Penstemon (Penstemon grandiflorus)

Western Salsify/Goatsbeard (Tragopogon dubius)

Western Wallflower (Erysimum asperum)

Western Wallflower and Yucca (Yucca glauca)

Also, just for the hell of it and in honor of the Triple Nickle, calf number 555.

Ya'll have a fine navy day and don't forget to stop occasionally and smell a flower.

Farm Report

From Miss Smiley Face herself.

After the rain, mulies

The day after Memorial Day

Just as it's become popular to "thank a vet," so too has it again become popular to to describe the sacrifice of many of our fallen military heroes as "a waste."

I understand the sentiment. I agree that many of our fellows choose to squander the gift they've been given, to take the supreme sacrifices for granted, to be selfish and sectarian and unprincipled and thoroughly malignant.

But those things have nothing at all to do with the selfless sacrifice of our American heroes. Their sacrifice can never be a waste, because they died supporting and defending this:

Not you. Not me. The Constitution of the United States. The codification of the greatest idea of all time, the last best hope, the heart and soul of the state of being that is America.

Which allows for this, times about 217 million. 24/7/365 (and a quarter).