Here’s something you’ve probably never considered: Clouds, those ephemeral, ever-shifting phenomena in the heavens, have weight. Learning this is akin to pondering if, on your next visit to a Gothic cathedral, the ceiling will come crashing down. It turns out that clouds are heavy, very very heavy. According to the Meteorology Department at the University of Reading, a fluffy cumulus cloud, the kind you see on warm summer days or during the opening credits of The Simpsons, contains approximately 0.25g of water per cubic meter. An average cumulus cloud with an area of 1 km3 would therefore weigh 250 metric tonnes. A bigger cloud, like a meaty thunderstorm cloud, is 10 times larger and contains 8 times as much water – it weighs in at 2 million tonnes.
Spring branches
And these numbers only take into account the water in the cloud – the air has weight too. For the cumulus cloud mentioned above, the air within them weighs about 1 kg per cubic meter, which adds 1 million tonnes. For the thunderstorm cloud, add another 1 billion tonnes. A Gothic cathedral ceiling? If the internet is to be believed, it ranges from 450 to 2000 tonnes. We should worry more about the sky falling than a cathedral ceiling. Chicken Little had it right.
Clouds stay up because of the air – the water vapour is supported by the air’s weight. It’s like resting a feather on an ingot of lead. The feather won’t pass through the lead because it is heavier and denser. I’m still not sure how a cathedral ceiling stays up. I think it’s a combination of luck, craftsmanship, and physics. All this brings to mind, in a roundabout way, the old riddle of which weighs more, a pound of lead or a pound of feathers?
Wave of Snowdrops
Someone who wrote rhymes, riddles, and improbable stories was Theodor Geisel, born on 2 March 1904 in Springfield, MA. He had a productive career as an illustrator and cartoonist before becoming wildly successful with his books for children. They are known the world over – his nom de plume was Dr Suess. I know I had some of his books as a child, and while I can’t remember any of them, thinking of them always has positive associations.
Gorse
Work on the current gansey is slowing, now that I don’t have seven hours on a bus to occupy. The bamboo needles are good to knit with and are thin enough that they have started to shape to my hands. One of the points has become a bit dull, but I have reshaped it with a file, which is something I wouldn’t attempt with metal needles. The joint allows for smooth shifting of stitches from cord to tip, with no snagging. The knitting itself has been more rhythmic than tedious, but concentration is necessary when stopping and starting. I’ve caught myself multiple times doing knitting when I should be ribbing, and vice versa. In a few more inches I’ll start the yoke and gussets.
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