Monday, March 9, 2009

And the vanes go round

Weather station is up and running after a bit of constructive engineering. I've succeded in linking it with weather underground, weather exchange, personal weather stations so that all three services receive updates ever 15-30 minutes. One small bit of personal contribution toward better weather forecasting nationwide.

Truly a great birthday gift!

Sunday, March 1, 2009

Seen but not heard

Watching the creek roll by

Initial page to link weather services."

I can say something good

Sitting by the woods on a snowy day03/01/2009
Today, I finished installing my new personal weather station. I've linked to www.WeatherUnderground to upload live data and will also link to Weather Exchange.
We'll be dining on blue cheese bison burgers tonight. Not the best thing for us but not the worst either.
We've had about 2 inches of wet heavy snow so far. I've scraped off the back deck, carried firewood from the rack to the deck and from the deck into the house. Time to pour some Scotch and enjoy the evening with Gloria.

I've been toying with the idea of a blog for over a year and resisted the urge to commit the thoughts of one more curmudgeon to the internet.
Faced with the need for a personal web site in order to link with weather station servers, I've given in to the evil urge to spew words and thoughts that most likely need no repetition and come as no surprise to anyone who knows me.

To keep this at a high level, unlike most of my commentary, I'll begin it well.

The best years of my life began 11 December 1992 when I encounterd a red-haired elven-faced RN who lived half-way cross the country from me. We'd met on-line and then progressed to telephony on that date. A week later I walked off a plane in National Airport and saw her standing there with a smile that illuminated the entire terminal on that cold gray morning.
We married 27 June 1993 and she is the great joy, the great love, the great passion, and the great romance in my life.
Sixteen years later we've survived several moves, the deaths of her parents, the loss of two cherished dogs, and we find our story being told on the banks of Cassi Creek in north east Tennessee. We own a house, nearly five acres of woods and rock, and have about 800 feet of creek frontage that hides its own population of native brook trout.
We live happily here in jeans and flannel, watching birds, burning firewood, and enjoying our marriage that we joke about beginning as a computer date.
J. S. Lenon