The water collected in nasturtium leaves after a shower looks like droplets of mercury:

They refract outdoor lighting when seen from the correct viewpoint:

These were at the Morse Estate. Hand-held with the Canon SX230HS in low light conditions.
The Smell of Molten Projects in the Morning
Ed Nisley's Blog: Shop notes, electronics, firmware, machinery, 3D printing, laser cuttery, and curiosities. Contents: 100% human thinking, 0% AI slop.
Who’d’a thunk it?
The water collected in nasturtium leaves after a shower looks like droplets of mercury:

They refract outdoor lighting when seen from the correct viewpoint:

These were at the Morse Estate. Hand-held with the Canon SX230HS in low light conditions.
We don’t often see Turkey Vultures on the ground, so this gathering was unusual:

The depression in the grass suggests something keeled over right there; perhaps they’re rummaging around for leftovers. Although they’re totally graceless on foot, it works well enough for them.
There were two vultures on posts when I stopped, but one joined the ground party before I could deploy the camera. The other bird kept a close eye on me throughout the proceedings:

Look alive!
Pix from the Canon SX230HS, zoomed to its optical limit, and certainly not prizewinners…
Late August is, as always, the season for giant orb-weaving spiders, one of which spun a web between two tall cactus plants on the patio and greeted us with this sight one morning:

We’re big fans of both spiders and dragonflies, but it was obvious who came out on top in this contest:

These things are unimaginably weird:

Even with the spider busy at lunch, she has four eyes to spare. They reflect the flash and appear as white-centered dark dots near the middle of the image:

I’m sure the red spinnerets are diagnostic:

The spider tossed the empty husk over the side, then spent the next two nights and days parked in her lair, presumably digesting that big meal, and didn’t bother repairing the web:

She spun a fresh web on the third night and caught a more manageable insect:

All hand-held with the Sony DSC-H5, some with a 2x close-up lens. All the pix are tight crops, crushed to fit my arbitrary 750 pixel maximum and 200 kB size limit. If you need high-res original images for anything, drop me a note; I took far too many pictures of this encounter…
Once upon a time, the current Dutchess Rail Trail was an active railroad line, complete with all the usual switchgear and signals. This relic, abandoned in place near the east entrance to the Walkway Over the Hudson, looks like it changed the direction of motion at a right angle:

I think the rod near the top of the picture came from a control lever, with the clevis to the right attached to a rod that moved the switch points.
And, yes, the rod passes right through that tree trunk. The metal gadgetry just in front of the trunk once captured the rod between rollers:

The body casting speaks of a bygone age of industrial might:

It’s been a long time since the General Railway Signal Company cast that iron in Rochester NY…
Alas, the nice slotted cap I put on the driveway drain can’t handle the amount of debris released by the trees next to the house and above the gutters. I’d removed the thumbscrew to simplify clearing the cap whenever I go for the mail, but that just accentuated the problem:

The backup must be over a foot of water at the end of the pipe; that fountain emerges from the 1/4 inch hole for the thumbscrew. Fortunately, the slope is large enough that the water (probably) isn’t backing up into the retaining wall footing drain.
When the pine trees toss their dead needles overboard, the cap plugs solid and, minus the screw, blows across the driveway:

It usually doesn’t roll very far, although I’ve retrieved it halfway to the street.
I still think the chipmunks will move in without a grate blocking the pipe, but I’m unsure how to proceed…
A giant envelope containing one of those “political surveys” that’s actually a thinly disguised fundraiser arrived, with this confidence-inspiring ID in the upper-right corner:

The questions were all examples of false dichotomies.
A pox on their backsides, sez I.
A day or so after kvetching about that informal DCRT vehicle entrance to the head planner developing the Dutchess County Master Plan for bicycle & pedestrian facilities, this appeared:

Notice the blue electrical junction box on the right? That can’t possibly be a Good Thing… but, so far, it doesn’t seem to bother anybody enough to repair it.
Those missing ADA strips at Grand have been swept out, converting them into rough-bottomed trenches across the trail. At least they’re not quite so slip-prone, even if they’re still a tripping hazard.