Weather fans, you're not alone!
(Does anybody remember that Weather Channel ad campaign about ten years ago? Where they painted their bodies like high-pressure and low-pressure systems?)
My sock has been in the garage all week getting a little overhaul. I made a mistake about 15 rows down, ripped back, knit the same row over again, knit five more rounds, tinked back stitch-by-stitch, and reknitted. (YES, IT IS ALWAYS WORTH FIXING A MISTAKE. To me.) I am midway through the toe. Hopefully Thursday night I'll have a finished sock! (I never knit on Wednesday nights. Weird, I know.)
Anyway, a slight diversion into philosophical things.
One of the reasons weather interests me so much is that it's really about air - which can't be seen, but can have tremendous physical effects, and which is weightless yet moves in "masses." It holds water - ever look at one of those gargantuan thunderheads and wonder how much it weighs? (Hint: around 7 pounds per gallon.)
I think that we should never, ever lose our sense of wonder. I have a friend who had a life-changing, ground-shaking experience because of a perfectly formed artichoke. Weather - the power of a storm, the pretty of a sunset, a cool breeze on my face - is one of those things that fills me with wonder.
So I like when we get little proofs of the existence of air - leaves rustling, things blowing around in the street. Sideways rain. Tonight I drove home very slowly in sleet and saw someone I used to know whilst at the grocery store and thought about how she was always, always condescending to me, and it made me sad. But then I looked out the back door and saw a perfectly indigo twilight sky with big, beautiful white snowflakes swirling around in it. And then I wondered "what-if" about the snow - would my camera catch it? Would my 2000 ISO mini-Fuji be able to capture anything but blurs?
But...the blurs are *cool.* The blurs are the proof of the air. Huh? Think about it.
I resized, rotated and sharpened these photos. I didn't do any burning and dodging, and I didn't draw on them. The snow did all the work.
Another way I can define "wonder" is this: God does in a throwaway sunset or snowstorm or cold, clear night of stars more than I could do with a lifetime of brushes and paint. And I have learned that understanding weather doesn't take the mystery out of it.
My sock has been in the garage all week getting a little overhaul. I made a mistake about 15 rows down, ripped back, knit the same row over again, knit five more rounds, tinked back stitch-by-stitch, and reknitted. (YES, IT IS ALWAYS WORTH FIXING A MISTAKE. To me.) I am midway through the toe. Hopefully Thursday night I'll have a finished sock! (I never knit on Wednesday nights. Weird, I know.)
Anyway, a slight diversion into philosophical things.
One of the reasons weather interests me so much is that it's really about air - which can't be seen, but can have tremendous physical effects, and which is weightless yet moves in "masses." It holds water - ever look at one of those gargantuan thunderheads and wonder how much it weighs? (Hint: around 7 pounds per gallon.)
I think that we should never, ever lose our sense of wonder. I have a friend who had a life-changing, ground-shaking experience because of a perfectly formed artichoke. Weather - the power of a storm, the pretty of a sunset, a cool breeze on my face - is one of those things that fills me with wonder.
So I like when we get little proofs of the existence of air - leaves rustling, things blowing around in the street. Sideways rain. Tonight I drove home very slowly in sleet and saw someone I used to know whilst at the grocery store and thought about how she was always, always condescending to me, and it made me sad. But then I looked out the back door and saw a perfectly indigo twilight sky with big, beautiful white snowflakes swirling around in it. And then I wondered "what-if" about the snow - would my camera catch it? Would my 2000 ISO mini-Fuji be able to capture anything but blurs?
But...the blurs are *cool.* The blurs are the proof of the air. Huh? Think about it.
I resized, rotated and sharpened these photos. I didn't do any burning and dodging, and I didn't draw on them. The snow did all the work.
Another way I can define "wonder" is this: God does in a throwaway sunset or snowstorm or cold, clear night of stars more than I could do with a lifetime of brushes and paint. And I have learned that understanding weather doesn't take the mystery out of it.
posted by Jen at 11:19 PM
6 Comments:
I'm with you - let's hope that we never lose our sense of wonder!
Beautiful!!
WHen I talked about believing in God (now I just argue with her/them/It) I said read Discover for the theological titillation. Understanding how it works doesn't have to make something less wonderful. What a very large universe it is! And yet there are redpolls, and people.
Nice post. Nice pics.
What a wonderful post! And the pictures are the perfect accompaniment.
My sister and I are both huge fans of weather. We both have always wished to be able to paint clouds. I don't think I could ever capture the beauty with a brush that I can with my camera and nature's help. My pics of sunsets are some of my favorite pictures I have ever taken.
I often look at sunsets and such and wonder. I mean, some are so luscious that if one did paint them, people would look at the finished painting and comment how "you'd never see that in nature." Irony.
Often wished I was better in math so that I could study meteorology.
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