Buttle Lake boat launch

 Just a perfect afternoon on the lake.

Looking south

And from the same spot, looking north

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Una tarde perfecta en Buttle Lake. Mirando hacia el sur, con la rampa para embarcaciones, y desde el mismo punto, mirando hacia el norte.

Black and blue

It's raining and blowing and grey out there these last few days. But not so long ago, the skies were blue, blue, blue. Cold air seems to bring out the colour.

Crow and bare branches, Oyster Bay.

Another crow, with the last of the yellow leaves.

Between the rains

They promised us rain. As usual. They were wrong, for once; it snowed all day, morning to night, yesterday. Pretty! It's melting already, of course, and we can expect rain tomorrow. It's 2° Celsius (35.6° Fahrenheit) now (1:30 AM), at the airport up the hill.

But there are moments these days when the skies are not grey and parked right down at treetop level:

New snow on the Lower Mainland peaks. Taken through the car window from the shore highway, Monday PM.

Early morning sunrise, a week ago. Through my kitchen window. 8:24 AM.

Clear blue, from the Ridge Trail.12:30 PM.

A Skywatch post.

Oh, so blue!

When I set my photo processing program to the sunlight setting, it adds a yellow or reddish tinge to everything. Why, then, when the sun shines brightly, are we surrounded by blue?

Taking the dog for a paddle. Saratoga Beach

I switch back to "as shot". Sea and sky play with blue. The reds and yellows can stay on dry land.

Bare rock mini-islet somewhere out in the channel.

The sun sends us white light, a blend of wavelengths, visible and invisible (to our eyes; birds and bugs see things we can't.) The gas molecules in the atmosphere ignore the long wavelength rays, like red and yellow, letting them pass by on their way to land, and grab onto the blues and bounce them all over the sky. So we see the blue everywhere when we look at the sky.

Just before sunset, last February.

Near the horizon the light has travelled further to reach us, and some of the blue has been scattered off in other directions, so the sky looks paler. At sunset, pollutants and salt crystals (over the ocean) filter out even more of the blue.

Quadra Island lighthouse, July. The mountains in the distance are blue, too.

I always thought the sea just reflected the sky. Or vice-versa, maybe. I was wrong. The sea processes light differently. The water absorbs the warmer colours, and rejects the blue, bouncing it back into our eyes.

Rainy day over Tyee Spit. What little warmth arrived in the light that has percolated through the clouds highlights the dry grass.

The evergreens that cover our hills produce aromatic terpenes that form small particles in the atmosphere, and these also scatter blue light, seen better from a distance. (Up close, the trees are green.)

Saratoga Beach, with distant kayakers. Blue sky, blue mountains, blue water. Red kayaks.

Kite, over Tyee Spit last week. Looking almost straight up, the sky becomes deep, deep blue.

Something to ponder: when I look at the water, from the docks, for example, it is usually blue or blue-silver. But if I'm looking straight down into the water, it is often a deep green. Why is that?

A helpful article on this topic is "Why is the Sky Blue?" by Philip Gibbs. Also, see a briefer explanation on Scientific American.

A Skywatch post.