Sundogs, or parhelia, are among the many marvels of the sky. They are caused by the refraction of sunlight through millions of ice crystals high in the atmosphere.
The plate-like crystals are suspended in cold cirrus or cirrostratus clouds. The crystals align horizontally as they drift down and bend the sun’s light at 22-degree angles.
That is what creates the bright spots, often in rainbow colors on either side of the sun, and sometimes on both sides. On rare occasions, the crystals create a full arch over the sun. The spots can also be simply bright white.
Sundogs are most frequently observed in the winter, when the atmosphere is cold. They most often appear at sunrise or near sunset, as in this recently taken photo.
Parhelia is the Greek word for “beside the sun.” Sundogs are members of the halo family that occasionally form around the sun and moon.
A rural road cuts through the snow. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
It took a rare bird sighting to get me out of our warm home and into the frigid weather after a snowstorm dumped six inches of snow and sleet onto Rockingham County, Virginia.
A lone Snow Bunting had been spotted along with small flocks of Horned Larks in an area noted for rarities. A Snowy Owl was spotted there in November 2024.
I was familiar with the birds’ location, but I still took the long way around to get there. I wanted to drive the main roads to ensure my safety.
Like most areas hit by the recent storm, the temperatures dropped to record or near-record marks as the system slowly moved away. Consequently, the snowpack froze as the nighttime temperatures dropped to single digits.
That made snow removal difficult, and salting highways inefficient. Still, the roads were clear, but the plowed snow piled up like concrete construction barriers on both sides of the road, blocking roads and sidewalks.
Before I ever turned onto Lumber Mill Road, a flock of Lapland Longspurs flew in front of my stopped vehicle. A passing car spooked them, ruining my photo opportunity.
As I approached the area where the Snow Bunting had been seen, small flocks of Horned Larks flew in loops over the snow-covered farm fields on either side of the roadway, then landed close to where they had launched. The birds were feeding along the roads where the snowplow had exposed patches of weedy grass. The birds also used the grit and salt to help digest the seeds they ate.
Horned LarksA Horned LarkA Horned Lark in the road
Please click on the photos to enlarge them.
Having photographed the Horned Larks, I proceeded a few yards down the road, and the Snow Bunting flitted farther ahead. I stopped my SUV and used my telephoto lens, not wanting to scare the bird again.
Given the harsh weather conditions, schools and many businesses had closed. Sidewalks and parking lots in the more urban areas had yet to be plowed. The extreme cold weather compounded the problem.
With the sun bright during the day, the surface layer of the snow cover melted slightly, and the snow froze harder as nighttime temperatures fell. Those conditions kept most people at home, significantly reducing the traffic on roadways.
The lone Snow Bunting. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Alerted by an email, other birders soon arrived, and I was happy to point out where the Snow Bunting had appeared. I was excited to see it myself, since I had never seen Snow Buntings in Virginia. Plus, it was unusual to see only one. Snow Buntings commonly appear in small flocks, and the only other time I had seen them was 50 years ago in my backyard during a rare blizzard in Ohio.
With the birds photographed, I turned my attention to capturing the winter wonderland all around me. The farmsteads glowed in the afternoon sunshine, and the snow and cold, clear air made everything bright and clean.
Fencerows and trees contrasted with the white blanket below them. The Allegheny Mountains hovered over the scenic countryside like anxious mothers.
I scared up other flocks of Horned Larks as I continued meandering along narrow limestone roads that connected one Old Order Mennonite farm to the other. Holsteins crowded into feeding troughs, devouring hay the farmers had recently pitch-forked into the stanchions for them.
Knowing that the roads were at least passable, I felt more comfortable driving as I made a loop around Mole Hill toward home. In the southwest, the afternoon’s slanting sun radiated a glistening sheen across the hard-packed snowy landscape.
On the east side of the local landmark, Massanutten Mountain stood tall above the undulating lands of the Shenandoah Valley. I crunched my way a few yards from the road to capture black Angus cattle exiting a barn into the snowy pasture.
The dark macadam and the tree branches reaching for the sky sharply contrasted with the snow-white countryside. It was a sight almost as inspiring as seeing the lone Snow Bunting.
Black Angus cattle and Massanutten Mountain. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Our landscaper saved the day. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
There was a time when I enjoyed shoveling snow from our driveway and sidewalk. That was when we lived in Ohio, and I was much, much younger.
We had plenty of notice from the National Weather Service and the media about the most recent major winter storm that chugged eastward from Texas into New England.
Snow is the hardest precipitation for the NWS to predict. This storm was exceptionally so. The storm surged farther north than anticipated, and it had a “warm nose” that changed our precipitation from snow to sleet.
Despite the cold surface temperatures, the Shenandoah Valley had sleet all day. Since it is finer than snow, the sleet added two inches to our four inches of overnight snow.
Knowing the storm was going to deliver a nasty punch no matter what kind of frozen precipitation fell, we knew we would need help with the driveway and sidewalk.
By the next morning, the storm had cleared. When I went out to spread birdseed on the ground shortly after sunrise, the cold overnight temperatures had frozen the top layer of snow, so I could walk on it for a few steps before it gave way.
The Virginia Department of Transportation contracts with local farmers to plow our suburban streets. They often do it at night, and that was the case this time. The street was clear of snow, but a two-foot-high pile of large snow chunks blocked the driveway. I was glad we had a snowplow coming.
Our landscaper arrived mid-morning and immediately went to work cleaning the drive with a small tractor and plow. Its size and design allowed it to make sharp turns and push the snow out of the way while his helper shoveled our walk.
Of course, the neighbors heard the tractor’s engine, and soon two of them approached the plow operator to ask about clearing their drives as well. It wasn’t long until yet a third neighbor added to the workload.
When the first neighbor approached. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
All of us were retirees, and we all knew it was much better to have a machine do what we used to do in our younger years. We were all more than glad to pay for this service rather than risk overdoing it or, even worse, hurting ourselves.
It’s nice to be in a position where we can afford to do that. As senior citizens, it was the right decision, regardless of the cost.
The aurora borealis as seen from my driveway on January 20. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
I get excited when there’s a chance to see the northern lights or aurora borealis. I suspect I’m not alone. Why shouldn’t we be excited?
After all, the colorful lights are dancing in the sky over the polar north. That’s a long way from the Shenandoah Valley in western Virginia.
I follow social media posts closely for sun flares and alerts on possible northern light events. But being this far south, I keep my expectations in check.
History has shown, however, that seeing these beautiful phenomena is indeed possible in Virginia and points south. In fact, on October 10, 2024, at 10:30 p.m., I walked out the front door, and greens, reds, and pinks danced in the sky over my neighbors’ houses. Of course, the light display was much farther north than that.
The aurora borealis as seen from my front porch on October 10, 2024. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
I snapped a couple of photos and went back to bed. The app on my cell phone had alerted me to the possibility of seeing the aurora borealis. And there it was.
Looking back on that experience, I wish I had chosen a better viewing location for more photos instead of going back to sleep. Still, I was happy with the pictures I got. They clearly showed the northern lights.
So, when the alert came out for Monday and Tuesday, January 19 and 20, this week, I was ready. However, being a man, and an aging one at that, I easily got distracted.
The NCAA National Championship football game between Indiana University and Miami University was on TV at 7:30. Because the IU coach had led James Madison University’s football team to exciting winning seasons, my wife and I were glued to the TV. JMU is located in Harrisonburg, Virginia.
However, my attention shifted when I saw a photo of the aurora borealis posted on Facebook by a friend who lives a few miles away. I walked outside, took a few pictures, and could see a little red in the sky.
So, I diverted my attention from football to photography and went in search of a decent view of the northern sky. It was harder than I thought. Rockingham County, where I live, may be in the Shenandoah Valley, but it certainly is not flat.
The landscape, predominantly agricultural west of the city, is rolling, dotted with high hills, and full of powerlines running every which way. With no moonlight, the night was dark, so even though I was familiar with the roadways, I had difficulty finding a place with a good view, free of light from security lights or buildings.
It didn’t take me long, however, to realize that the colors had faded since my friend took her photo two hours earlier. I headed home with fairly dull images of the night sky.
I was determined to make the aurora my priority after dark on Tuesday night. I again stepped into the darkness of our neighborhood and immediately saw reds and pinks in the sky, especially to the northwest. It is one advantage of having no street lights in our housing development. Of course, the colors I saw can’t compare to the amazing shots of curtains of colors dancing in the sky in the northernmost latitudes.
With temperatures below normal in our area, I bundled up and headed out, this time more certain about where I needed to go. But again, once I got out into the open countryside, the aurora colors seemed to dim.
The photo with the house was my first hint of the northern lights. The rest are from my excursion in the county. Please click on the images to enlarge them.
They were brighter than the previous night, but not like I had seen in October 2024 or when I saw my first northern light in Ohio’s Amish country decades ago.
In that case, I was walking out to retrieve the evening paper from its roadside box when I first heard and then saw the northern lights. I stopped in my tracks when I heard a loud crackling sound, like a zap of electrical current.
I looked toward the sound, and in the southern sky, bright green zigzagging flashes danced low in the night sky. They lasted only seconds, but I realized what they were even though they appeared on the wrong horizon.
Soon, bulletins appeared on TV screens across northern Ohio about strange objects appearing in the sky. Witnesses who saw what I saw called the police and TV and radio stations to report the weird noises and lights.
There were all kinds of speculations, aliens included. Even the local weather service put out a special statement. When I saw that, I called the weather office at the Akron-Canton Airport to share what I observed.
I felt obligated to set the record straight, and since I was a trained severe weather spotter for the National Weather Service, they were familiar with where I lived.
Because of that experience, I longed to see the aurora borealis in its proper setting, the northern sky. Consequently, I was very pleased to be able to view them in Virginia, not once, but twice.
You can be assured I’ll remain on the lookout whenever the next aurora alert is issued, regardless of what time of night it is or what’s on TV.
My wife and I planned to meet some friends for dinner at a restaurant in the town where they live, 30 minutes south of our home. On the way there, I wanted to check a birding hotspot where several nice bird species had been seen and photographed.
We veered off our route a mile and a half to drive the narrow, hilly, winding Bells Lane. The road wound up, down, and around for less than two miles. Yet, the habitat varied greatly in that short distance.
The Blue Ridge Mountains serve as the backdrop for Bells Lane. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
As we climbed the first hill lined by brushy fence rows and trees, I spotted a small flock of Canada Geese foraging on the hilltop. Pastured hillsides with tuffs of tall grasses, dotted with a few large trees, roll away on either side of the roadway.
I didn’t dare drive too fast. There was too much to see. Tucked away in the swale of two hills, cattails ringed a small pond, perfect for shorebirds and waterfowl.
Since the day had been mostly cloudy and dusk was nearly upon us, I merely wanted to check out this popular birding spot. Still, I saw a Northern Harrier coursing over a rolling field heading away from us.
Of course, I stopped a few times to take photos of this stunning landscape, even in winter’s dormancy. Amber stocks of spent weeds infiltrated the rolling tan pasture fields. Dead thistle plants painted their own fencerow portraits.
Spent thistle. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
White-crowned Sparrows and White-throated Sparrows flushed from the roadside into the safety of nearby bushes. A Red-tailed Hawk perched on a precarious limb over another fallow field.
What surprised us most were the old, plantation-like farms we found along Bell Lane. The farm lanes were so long and lined with unkempt trees and vegetation that we could hardly see the homes and outbuildings. The settings literally oozed history.
Rounding a curve, we passed a gray-haired lady walking her black lab. On the left, a small pond stood, nearly hidden by the vines threading their way through the saplings and the wire fence.
Please click on the photos to enlarge them.
We crossed a small stream and were soon at the intersection back at the main highway. I was mightily impressed with the opportunity this country lane provides for bird watchers.
Without question, I will be back to Bells Lane. I’ll search for the Sandhill Cranes, Short-earred Owls, and any other birds, big or small. I’ll see what stories this curious road reveals as well.
I had company while taking photos of the spectacular sunset at Silver Lake in Dayton, Virginia. A lone female Bufflehead repeatedly dove in the calm, shallow water for food.
The diving duck did what it was supposed to do to survive. It dove and surfaced so frequently that small ripples created a corduroy effect across the southern section of the lake. The warm light of the setting sun transformed Silver Lake into a golden pond.
A female Bufflehead floated on Silver Lake. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
After an early morning lab test at the local hospital, I drove a couple of miles to a favorite lake that often affords decent birding. I found the bird I hoped would be there, a lone Sandhill Crane, plus I got a bonus.
The small lake lay east and west, with an opening to the east where the spillway falls into a natural ravine. The Blue Ridge Mountains in Shenandoah National Park are visible in the far distance.
As I began my search for the crane, the sun broke through a layer of low clouds. It wasn’t much, and it didn’t last long, but the mauve and orange caught my eye. It was a stunning but subtle scene.
Sunrise at Lake Shenandoah, Harrisonburg, Virginia. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Once I found the bird and pointed it out to a trio of young birders, I headed home. I kept my eye on the sky in hopes of an even prettier sunset.
With high broken clouds, I decided to visit Silver Lake in the quaint town of Dayton, just a few miles from my home. I arrived with the sun still hanging low in the southwest.
At first, I wasn’t impressed. I was fearful that the clouds that often congregate over the Allegheny Mountains to the west in the evenings might spoil any chance of a nice sunset. However, I have learned to be patient after years of chasing sunrises and sunsets.
That’s been even more true here in the Shenandoah Valley. With mountain ranges to the east and west of the county, the sun takes its time to paint the sky. That’s exactly what happened.
Things were still dull in the west, but I looked behind me, and the clouds in the eastern sky blushed in warm tones. I drove to the other side of the lake to capture the reflections.
The old mill
When I arrived
Colors in the east
The south bank
The reds begin
Across the lake
The farm
The long view
Silhouettes
The reds peak
I no sooner arrived there when the western horizon burst with fiery hues. I returned to my original spot and snapped away.
I was most grateful for nature’s wondrous morning and evening displays that day. It pays to keep an eye on the sky.
This middle-aged couple provided a perfect silhouette while standing in their street clothes on North Lido Beach in Sarasota, Florida.
I observed them for several minutes, simply standing there, leaning in, and casually touching one another in flirtatious gestures, as lovers tend to do. But they keep their eyes on the setting sun, seemingly comfortable with one another in those precious moments.
Roadkill Crossing 
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