Earlier, the smoke plume from the Stoner Mesa Fire (now more than 3,500 acres in very rough country), had been rising high into the sky on our southeastern horizon, but by the time I got out to see the ponies, it was settling again for the night. There’s still a haze, but it’s nice to see more of our blue sky again.
Temple looks as beautiful as always, especially with McKenna Peak and Temple (yes, named for her namesake(s)) Butte in the background.
I heard a rumor that some wet weather might be coming into our region toward the end of the week or weekend, but the forecast is either behind the times, or it doesn’t want to give us a (false?) sense of hope. Ha. Any hope is great hope at this point!
It’s not my intention to ignore all the ills of the world on this blog, just to make it a place of peace and beauty.
Two nights ago, clouds stymied my moonrise photography attempts, but Mother Nature put on a show, nonetheless. You can’t really call that a rainbow – a light prism? – over Brumley Point, but it was a much better sight than the image I took the day before that looked like Brumley, which looks enough like an old volcano, was actually erupting.
This was the second time it happened (and I was in a bit different location). Neither occurrence lasted more than a minute or two?
Do dragonflies bring you joy? It’s way out of focus here near the in-focus pinon tree – in my defense, I was pretty far away, and it was zipping faster than I could follow, let alone focus – but that little beam of zooming light (seeing it backlit against a far mesa is what caught my attention in the first place) brought ME joy! I realized that it was snatching flying insects out of the air, which I cheered wholeheartedly. The gnats are largely gone, but we have (still) big flies and (now) these weird little things that are bigger than gnats and almost as exasperating.
The moon did rise above the clouds eventually, of course. No matter the conditions here on Earth, it’s always, comfortingly, there – somewhere out there.
Most importantly, to paraphrase Mad-Eye Moody (apologies to non-Harry Potter fans): Stay vigilant!
Note: Images are from Tuesday, Aug. 5. Yes, I’m in Spring Creek Basin for the below (cell-phone) images, and yes, the fire is fairly close as the eagle soars (the next county south, which is Dolores County; the basin is mostly in San Miguel County but does extend south into northern Dolores County). However, the horses are not in danger; there’s actually a lotta country between there and and the basin.
If you’ve visited Spring Creek Basin, you’ll recognize this cattle guard at the intersection of Road 19Q (Disappointment Road) and Road K20E. What you most likely and very fortunately have NOT seen as you head east toward Spring Creek Basin is a giant, nuclear-cloud-looking smoke plume. 😦 That’s the newly started Stoner Mesa Fire. (This is the Durango Herald link; you may hit a paywall, or you may get a free read of three articles (?).)
I won’t lie; I nearly had a heart attack when I saw that plume. Back in 2002, I was working at the aforementioned Durango Herald, and when I drove to work each afternoon (copy editor/page designer shift of 3 p.m. to midnight), the nuclear-plume of smoke from the Missionary Ridge Fire greeted me with heart-stopping awesomeness (and not in a good way) every time I topped Hesperus Hill to descend toward Durango.
This is from the area we call Chrome’s Point in western Spring Creek Basin, looking east-southeast. Yes, those dark-and-white spots at far left, left of the main/original water catchment aprons (looks like a tennis court) and tank are mustangs. Thankfully, they seemed completely and totally oblivious. The air was hot and smoky: Dragon Bravo Fire, Sharp Canyon Fire, Turner Gulch Fire (smoke still visible from it, too), Waters Canyon Fire … and who knows what other fires contributing to our air dis-quality (!?)) – more hazy than seems apparent from these images.
Moonrise over McKenna Peak and Temple Butte from farther north in the basin. Most of the smoke was blocked by the eastern horizon of ridges from this perspective.
Sunset through smoke. Pretty … but it is violently, dangerously dry out there.
This is a hot, bad, dry (and very-bad-dry) summer, folks. Please be mindful of anything that could spark a flame, stay safe, and support your firefighters … local, regional, state and national. And rain dances are *ALWAYS* appreciated. 🙂
(I went with my phone pix for this post, but I may have some from my big camera in coming days. … May …)
Skywalker might be considered Tenaz’s lieutenant, though I don’t think he would mind my translation that it’s not a title he likes or plans to use for long (!). Tenaz has two young mares, and Skywalker does keep Tenaz on his toes. They’re part of a bigger group of horses that’s basically two separate bands – one mostly happy family. 🙂
Above, the mares have gone ahead (to the right), and they’re waiting for their turn at the water cooler … err, pools of water that gather in the creek bed just above/upstream of Spring Creek canyon. A couple of other bands beat them to it, so they were politely waiting their turn.
The arroyo actually comes from beyond/above where Skywalker and Tenaz are standing, passes by us on the left, makes a big curve behind me as I’m facing them, runs a short distance, then makes another big curve to enter the canyon. Another few curves later, it empties below the rimrock cliff band that forms the basin’s western boundary into lower, wide-open Disappointment Valley on its way to join Disappointment Creek (which also is dry but for pockets of water) … and on to the Dolores River.
The mustangs definitely rely on these seeps in Spring Creek and its tributary arroyos as the summer gets drier and drier before the hoped-and-prayed-for monsoon rains. The forecast is showing an uptick of chances next week, and we’re crossing fingers, toes and hooves (!) that some rain actually pans out for us from those chances!
Still waiting on the clouds and Mother Nature to bring us any rain, but dramatic, spotlight cloudlight is my faaaaaaaaaaaaaavorite! That’s actually part of McKenna Peak at far left. The lit ramparts far to the right are well beyond and up-valley from Spring Creek Basin.
This handsome fellow is not the same handsome fellow from a couple of posts ago. He was near a small water source, and I happened upon him as he was walking away. Above, I *think* his attention was caught by a small band of mustangs away south and lower. He ended up turning all the way around to look at them, then watched them intently for several minutes before returning to his path away to nibble and browse.
A couple of hours later, this. 🙂
Hot, hot, hot. The temp hit 100 degrees in Spring Creek Basin yesterday. It’s not unusual as a summertime temp … but it’s still awfully miserable. There was some relief in the form of sunshine-blocking clouds, but not a drop of moisture did they produce.
By the time the moon rose, it was actually pleasant (if you don’t mention the gnats), and some little bird was singing its little heart out with a full medley of melody. I don’t know what it was, but it was a lovely serenade! 🙂
In the basin the night before last, I realized I might be able to catch the moon rising from the space between McKenna Peak and Temple Butte if I could get myself into the right position in Spring Creek Basin.
I didn’t, but it was still cool (as it always is?!) to watch the almost-full “Buck Moon” rising in the very warm (the mercury hit at least 98F) July sky last night over the basin.
We interrupt your regularly scheduled mustangs for an important news update:
WE GOT RAIN!!!!!!!
When you don’t get rain for weeks and weeks, even a little rain is newsworthy. When Mother Nature unleashes a direct hit over Spring Creek Basin, well, that’s major news, that is!
This crazy sky (please tell me the name of those clouds if you know? mammatus or something similar? I read an article about them recently, but I can’t remember the name) was AFTER the rain. Upon entering Spring Creek Basin, I had seen some silver slivers in the distance that had me very excited … but first I saw this sky, and then I saw mustangs, so I had to stop (I ran out of time and patience to choose and process any mustang pix, but they’ll be coming; nothing super exciting as they weren’t super cooperative with that sky above them, chasing the rain-fresh grass!).
Then … THIS:
SPRING CREEK!!!!!
Can you tell that straight across (left side of the pic) is the road? At far right is the curve just after the water passes through the old breached dam (I did a post about it a little while ago). The water is flowing from right to left – and it was loud and muddy and glorious. 🙂 You can see how high it was when it first ran; already it was feet lower by the time I got out there.
Many (most? all?) of the rocks in the foreground are from previous floods. That, my friends, is the power of water in the desert.
Then I rolled around back downstream to just upstream of Spring Creek canyon, through which Spring Creek runs on its way out of Spring Creek Basin. All of the basin’s arroyos feed into the big arroyo that is Spring Creek. This is looking eastish toward that iconic horizon. The canyon is right behind me:
The water flows from right to left, around the curve on downstream, through the short stretch of zigzagging canyon and on across Disappointment Valley to join Disappointment Creek, which ALSO was flowing with rainwater (the flow of the creek ended around solstice weekend), and eventually to the Dolores River way out there where the sky is particularly (and still) dark with rain.
Mammatus (also called mamma [1] or mammatocumulus, meaning “mammary cloud”) is a cellular pattern of pouches hanging underneath the base of a cloud.
People also ask
What does it mean when you see mammatus clouds?
AI Overview
Mammatus clouds, with their distinctive pouch-like or udder-like appearance, often signal the presence of severe weather, particularly thunderstorms, though they can also appear after the storm has passed. While they don’t directly cause storms, they are a visual indicator of unstable atmospheric conditions and can be associated with heavy rain, hail, lightning, or even snow in winter.
Here’s a more detailed explanation:
Formation: Mammatus clouds form when sinking air creates pouch-like structures hanging from the base of other clouds, most commonly the anvil of a cumulonimbus cloud (thunderstorm cloud).
Significance:
They are often seen before, during, or after a thunderstorm, indicating the turbulent and unstable air within the storm system.
Severity:
While not a direct sign of severe weather, their presence suggests the possibility of other dangerous weather conditions like lightning, hail, or strong winds.
Pilot Caution:
Pilots are often advised to avoid cumulonimbus clouds with mammatus formations due to the potential for turbulence.
Not Always Dangerous:
It’s important to note that mammatus clouds don’t always guarantee severe weather. They can also appear after a storm has weakened or dissipated.
Visual Cue:
Despite their potential association with storms, mammatus clouds are known for their striking appearance and are often photographed by weather enthusiasts and meteorologists. –> including this photographer! 🙂
Spring Creek Basin Mustangs 