Distant broadcast memories

I was considering some of my media memories that have persisted for decades. Along with common items like beer and cigarette jingles, firmly impressed into synapses during childhood, I have another that remains memorized in specific detail:

"This is the second network, 6WN, the regional and national station of the ABC, broadcasting from Perth." 

A broadcast program from Western Australia, not even one intentionally targeted at foreign audiences. I remember hearing this announcement on a vacuum tube shortwave radio, early in an Eastern US morning sometime around the upper regions of the 1970 sunspot cycle. It was thrilling and moving in a way that's hard to conceive today, just to be hearing a voice originating from about as far away as one could be on Earth (at least absent a shipboard transmitter closer to a precise antipode somewhere in the Indian Ocean). A signal bounced off the ionosphere a couple of times and made it around the world, back in a day where it was exotic and impressive to be "known internationally". The Internet's fiber strands across continents and oceans have certainly changed things.

At the end of a snowy day, the sun came out for "Golden Hour"

Nice way to end the day. Almost missed it, but happened to look out at a timely moment.

The photographer stands tall by casting a long shadow

The sun was quite low above the horizon in the Standard Time afternoon, shortly before sunset. It'd be a reasonable trigonometry problem to determine the exact time given my height, the shadow's length, and solar position data, but there's a good approximation in the picture's metadata and for now I'm concentrating on the perspective and how it appears. It's interesting to see how the legs, lower to the ground, cast very, very long shadows, while that of the head above appears relatively tiny.

Eclipse viewing

I enjoyed watching the lunar eclipse last night, particularly through binoculars. Photography was challenging, but I couldn't resist trying. First, at moonrise, as our loyal satellite prepared for its, er, starring role later in the evening:

A few minutes into the partial phase, having found that -3 stops of exposure compensation yielded some appealing detail of the lunar surface:

Approaching totality, with one of the nicer examples I can recall of (what I believe to be) lens flare decorating the image. Around this time, I also thought I saw a halo around the moon, but it didn't show up in the collected photos.

And, a very faint moon (too faint for my camera's autofocus to lock: exposure 1 second at f/5.6 and ISO 1600) in the total phase:

Quite a sight, well worth binocular-gazing on the fortunately clear night.

I saw an Egret. I had no REgret.

Actually, it was Great.

The computer must be right. What's wrong with me today?

When I ride my bike, it's most usually on one of a few rail trails with which I'm quite familiar. I have a cyclocomputer (are they still called that?), a watch-sized device which connects to a magnetic sensor to observe how quickly the front wheel is spinning and over how long a time, and hence to determine how fast I'm moving and how far I've traveled. I like being able to use it to track my progress. Earlier this year, though, I found myself pedaling at what seemed like a usual pace, but watching numbers indicating that I was going noticeably slower than usual. The display had to be right, though - didn't it? - so had I fallen suddenly and unexpectedly away from shape?  Why had it become harder to maintain a normal speed? I found it concerning, until I finished my ride and saw that what I'd always thought of as 18 miles (and which a smartphone GPS and topo map still did) was shown instead as about 16.3 miles, and that my elapsed time for the route wasn't abnormal for me. Further investigation showed that the cyclocomputer's setting for tire circumference had somehow gotten reset to its default, which was smaller than that of my actual tire. Once I readjusted that, simple division raised my indicated speed by about 10% the next time I rode. I felt better about both my pace and my device once the accidental bias was gone. I wasn't actually traveling faster, but a more reassuring measurement made it feel that way.

Superzooming

Now that photographic technology (at least its non-glass parts) has evolved into the digital age, it advances much more quickly than it did in the analog era.  Sometimes, it becomes easy to find what would have been unimaginable a few years earlier.  I tend to be something of a cheapskating late adopter, and find that previous models often provide powerful capabilities to use and grow into, at impressively low cost. In this vein, I recently jumped on the chance to purchase a Canon SX50HS (introduced in 2012), my first venture into the superzoom category. Its then-astounding 50:1 zoom range tops out at 215mm, offering equivalent magnification to what would be a 1200mm lens on a 35mm camera. I was able to pay less than $200 USD for the entire camera rather than the $180K currently quoted for a rare and massive 1200mm lens. Naturally, the image quality isn't the same, but I think it's quite usable by my standards.  Also, it's small and light enough to be reasonably wearable (and, hence, conveniently available) rather than haulable.  I took it out for its first bird walk yesterday and was pleased to be able to collect this shot of a tree swallow peering out from its nest hole.

Capable viewing, looking out from a small enclosure. I can appreciate that.