Going out in the wind today was so therapeutic. It wasn’t yet windy enough to be dangerous (except for maybe those insane people kiteboarding in the tropical storm waves), but it was invigorating. And also entangling, when it came to my hair.

Tropical Storm Nicole, which soon became Hurricane Nicole, pushed big, messy waves into the Cocoa Beach Pier here on Florida’s Space Coast on November 9. As I write this, the outer bands of the storm are coming ashore here, and I’m wondering when the power will go out. (Better type faster.)

I can see why surf reports like SurfGuru call waves like this a “washing machine.” So why were people fishing, swimming and riding kiteboards? I don’t know, but they made for interesting photos and video.

A steady stream of spectators came to the pier to gawk at the waves and activity, until squalls of fine, blasting rain chased them away. I stayed for a while taking photos and video and put my GoPro under the pier to get a short timelapse, which you’ll see in the video. By the time I left, I was soaking wet from the rain, at least anywhere below my rain jacket.

Roll over a photo to see a caption or click on any one to start a slide show.

Life’s been busy, so I haven’t posted all the rocket launches I’ve shot lately from Florida’s Space Coast. And there have been a lot. While one was a United Launch Alliance jaunt, the rest were SpaceX.

The gallery below includes photos from a handful of launches, including today’s SpaceX Falcon Heavy with Space Force payloads. In other words, secret defense stuff.

Well, the launch was so secret, even the weather got involved. Even though we were lucky enough to get passes for the ITL (or Integrate-Transfer-Launch) causeway in the northern part of Cape Canaveral Space Force Station, dense fog obscured almost everything, including lift-off.

The double booster landing wasn’t so clear either, at least from where we were. I’d love to get in a better position to shoot the boosters returning. The spectacle is so sci-fi. The sonic booms were viscerally entertaining, however, and I got a few nice shots of the rocket in its ascent.

The video focuses on recent SpaceX launches including today’s Heavy.

Click on any image below to start a slide show; roll over them to see captions.

The first Cape Canaveral Lighthouse began operation in 1849. The cast-iron version that replaced it began working in 1868. It was moved over a mile inland in the 1890s to keep it safe from erosion. The original Fresnel lens has been removed because launches were literally shaking the glass pieces out of their framework, and the light no longer rotates — or it didn’t when we were there. It just blinks.

Still, the lighthouse makes a dramatic foreground for a launch photo. I can’t help but contrast ships from centuries past with today’s spacecraft, like the SpaceX Falcon 9 that launched on Saturday, September 10. (You can read more about the lighthouse’s history and how to visit it here.)

 
I’d never had a chance to shoot a launch from here before, though I’d always wanted to. We sometimes get access to a car pass, and we had the rare opportunity to get a ticket for this site. The weather was iffy for a while after tremendous rainstorms in the afternoon. Clouds and showers lingered and showed a reluctance to clear out.

Pad 39A is north of the lighthouse, and I could only hope I’d lined up my shot so the rocket wouldn’t lift off behind the tower — and that we’d see more than the first few seconds. A bit of glow in the clouds and some reckoning with a map app helped. I wanted the lighthouse to be framed by the arc of the streak.

As the rocket lifted off, it became clear that the northeastward trajectory meant the rocket wouldn’t lift high enough (visually, anyway) to rise above the lighthouse. For a second I hoped it might pass right behind the light at the top, but still, it made for a very pretty scene. I cropped the vertical shot into a square one.

I shot the launch with a second camera using my 10mm fisheye lens (below). I like this, too, because the lightkeeper’s cottage (a replica) is visible at left. And the GoPro timelapse video is a fun little glimpse of the lift-off after the moonrise, which was almost directly behind us. The clouds and rain thinned out just enough to make this photo opportunity work.

The rocket carried more Starlink internet satellites and the new (and alarmingly large) BlueWalker 3 communications array, which will soon show up in our photos, no doubt.

It’s been a while since I’ve posted. I’ve been working on editing books and designing book covers. I launched my first collection at the Stolen Butter Gallery. I went on a road trip. And I hauled my camera here and there to shoot storms and space launches.

There were highlights – for instance, a violent storm on August 26 that produced a stunning shelf cloud that I captured in Cocoa Beach, with the statue of champ Kelly Slater “surfing” the wave of the storm. And sometimes, even when a launch was lackluster, the skies were beautiful anyway. But the pattern this summer has strongly favored the west coast of Florida, so we haven’t had much in the way of good storms, and when we did, I was out of town for most of them.

 

The road trip was a whirlwind pleasure tour (without whirlwinds) through the Midwest, after a family visit or two. Besides hitting cocktail bars (which my alter ego will post about), my husband and I had a taste of city and country in our travels.

One of the highlights for me was visiting the Johnstown Flood National Memorial in Pennsylvania, site of the lake whose water hurtled downstream, destroying everything in its path and killing more than 2200 people, when the South Fork Dam broke in 1889.

 

While we’re all awaiting the twice-delayed launch of the Artemis moon rocket, other launches have kept the skies interesting over the Space Coast. I’ll let the photos speak for themselves.

Roll over any image to see a caption, or click on a photo to start a slide show.

August 1 offered one of those local chases that would have been better if I’d been about an hour’s drive to my west. But we’d just had dinner in Cocoa Beach and watched the storms going up as twilight deepened into night, and I had a feeling if I attempted the drive, I’d never get into position.

So I opted for a wide view instead and got some pretty structure shots as the moon set behind the storms filling the western night sky. I filmed a GoPro “nightlapse” timelapse from Rockledge and shot photos, too. The video is pretty as the moon descends behind the flashing lightning storm and planes zoom around it, with sprinklers dancing in the foreground.

Our house got none of the rain. It’s the driest summer I can remember here on the east-central Florida coast. Memory is not a great scientific measurement, but let’s just say the plants are really unhappy. This summer doesn’t feel like subtropical Florida.

I’ll admit it: I’m a lazy Florida chaser. Here’s the thing about Florida storms — most garden-variety Florida storms (not the rare supercells we get, mostly in winter and early spring) pop up and die within thirty minutes. FOR REAL. In the Plains, if you see a storm a hundred miles away, it might actually still be going by the time you get there. Here, it will be long gone.

The other thing about Florida is trees. Yes, a lot of the state — especially from central Florida north — is covered in trees. So even though we don’t have many hills getting in the way of our views, trees are confounding.

The best way to chase storms in Florida is to dedicate entire days to hanging out in the center of the state waiting for sea-breeze boundaries to collide and chasing whatever pops up from these and subsequent storms formed on boundary collisions. But since I’m usually working on other stuff, I don’t often have that luxury. That’s why, when a nice lightning storm or shelf cloud materializes in my area and I have enough notice and time to get to it, I’ll dash out the door and take my chances. If I actually get on a good storm, then I can be quite obsessive about squeezing every last lightning bolt out of it, but those occasions are rare.

Today was one of the good days. Hubby texted me on his way to the grocery store that there was a nice shelf cloud to the north. I wasn’t even paying attention, but WOW, was I thrilled when I went outside to look. The shelf represented an outflow boundary from storms to the north. By itself, it wasn’t violent or dangerous, but boy, was it dramatic.

My first stop was just up the river road in Rockledge, looking north toward Cocoa, where I saw a piece of the shelf cloud looming over the Indian River Lagoon. From there, I went south to the old Harvey’s citrus plant location and took some shots, then to the extreme southern end of Rockledge (the River Rocks parking lot) to let it overtake me. It was so, so beautiful, I took a ridiculous number of photographs.

A note about my photo editing: I used to be much more of a stickler for documentary photographs. I didn’t do much to enhance contrast and color, just a bit of work and a decent crop. But I’ve become more forgiving and have learned to let my creativity guide me. I’m not faking anything, but I am embracing enhancements of natural colors and bumping up clarity and contrast so you get the feeling I get when I look at the storms. I take a more artistic view. I even occasionally remove power lines (one of these photos has power lines removed, as marked).

Storm chasers have different styles when it comes to photo edits. I’ve noticed a trend toward super-dark edits. Some crank the clarity (a Lightroom/Photoshop setting) to extreme levels. I hope I strike a balance between nature and art. I was thrilled with this storm and these photos. Enjoy.

Roll over any image to see a caption, or click on a photo to start a slide show.

 
What a marvelous night of magical sights! The evening of July 14 started with a SpaceX Falcon 9 rocket launch from Cape Canaveral Space Force Station, where our little band watched the twilight show. Dawn and twilight launches are the best chance to see the “jellyfish” as the sun lights up the dramatic cloud features created by the rocket’s journey.

After the launch, Alethea Kontis and I went to the shore of the Indian River Lagoon in Rockledge, Florida, to shoot photos of a line of lightning storms offshore – and the magnificent moon rising above them. Not captured here is the bioluminescence in the river, as every little movement by fish and other creatures left trails of glowing blue behind like underwater fireworks.

The pictures and videos tell the story best. I’ve stayed up too late putting these together, so I’ll let them speak for themselves. Roll over a photo to see a caption, or click on any image to start a slide show.

 
It was a warm morning. No, hot. Just the prelude to a very hot afternoon. And a flock of zebra longwing butterflies was hanging out amid the branches of the scraggly lime tree on the side of our house.

I see these butterflies often in our yard. They’re the Florida state butterfly, in fact. I’m sure our neighborhood would have more of these visitors if people would refrain from bringing in the professional insect killers to spray clouds of poison every few weeks. Sigh. I try to give these lovely butterflies a safe place to hang out.

This relaxing video shows these beautiful creatures fluttering in slow motion.

The show is almost over. The last few night-blooming cereus blossoms are maturing on our cactus vines, which climb a palm tree and our front porch. I’m also trying to start one in our live oak after seeing photos of a dazzling display in Orlando.

What am I talking about? The dinner-plate-size flowers that each bloom for just one night. Here in central Florida, they start blooming in May.

This year, as I do every year, I shot timelapse video of the flowers opening. Only this time, I included it in a three-minute documentary about the blooms. It pretty much says it all. These delicate dancers of the night live their best life when most creatures are asleep.

See the video above, or click on any of these images to start a slide show.