Today, as I sit inside watching big snowflakes sashay downward, meandering in from Canada, I thought I’d review the temperature history of my winter. Each day, I recorded the morning reading from a thermometer hanging outside my door, and also the high for every day. These I compared to the averages for the past 110 years from Weather Bureau data. I put this very-personal information into an AutoCad routine I wrote many years ago for the plotting such fascinations. I include here even the next three days, but of course they are not accurate, but taken from the forecast.I expect everyone will enthrall with wonder at the concision with which I present my winter—the unseasonably warm November, the December Plunge, the record cold of early January, and finally a warm spell at the end—all shown as a physicist might prefer.
I do believe the cold has done you good, Sharon. Over here it's seventy-five degrees here and I'm sneezing and achy with a cold! What a lightweight! Bleh!
ReplyDeleteA physicist in fact, you are, Steven. A cold in a warm, variable time in a culture of constant time, relativity in Newtonian physics.
ReplyDeletebleh?--hardly! Go on from special relativity to general theory, from constant velocity to acceleration. I tried it an failed, but you are strong.
I'm up in the middle of the night accelerating. It being dark, I cannot see where I'm going!
ReplyDelete:o)
I've been reading Special Relativity, straight as he put it down. It requires no math or science prerequisites, and though poorly written, is amazingly solid thought. It just takes giving up all you know. Not seeing where you are going is a good thing, it means you are not tied to a destination.
ReplyDeleteMostly, we don't see where we are going, even when we think we do, even when we try... mostly, life is an adventure, whatever the temperature... I once wrote a poem long ago, it was about the wishfulness of knowing.... it went
ReplyDelete"If I possessed these hills
I would traverse them hour by hour
flower by flower
until with the curve of my hand
I would trace them for you in the air graphically precise but more
like the poor heaving of my heart"
The emotional content of life, ungraphable, I think... and you have had a lot of it there...
Well put. I will continue to traverse these hills, even not possessing them, not knowing, a trespasser perhaps, but enjoying the trip.
ReplyDeleteOh, Kathabela,
ReplyDeleteI loooove your poem:
Flower by flower,
with the curve of my thought
I follow your beautiful hills, versed
in the tracings of your heart
weaving in the love
you traverse
hour by hour
lemon sweet and
honeyed sour
no longer precise,
yet accurate as the beat
of my heart's pulse,
my wind's breath
my spirit's speak
measuring the unmeasurable
unimaginable imagining
of my journey home.
Continue to traverse the hills Sharon. i enjoy following your footsteps wherever they may lead--in open fields or across forbidden territory, as welcome observer or unsolicited trespasser. I am complicit with you, shadowing your heels.
Thanks for the temperature charts, as I age I am more fascinated with weather as well. And for that reason, I also know I prefer warm over cold.
ReplyDeletewow somebody noticed my charts, thanks.
ReplyDelete