As you can see from the two photographs, we finally had our bit of winter snow -it settle to a depth of ....oh, quite half an inch! At about 3.30 p.m. today realised it was snowing quite heavily - large, wet flakes descending on me. Looked up into the sky over our garden, and found that odd phenomenon was occurring, when about a trillion large black snowflakes were swirling above me out of a dark sky, then descending. Odd thing was (and I remember noticing this as a boy) when they got down to my level they'd ALL turned white. Now I'm sure that a scientific sort of gent could explain this, in simple words of few syllables that even I could understand, but please don't. I address this more specifically to young Crowbard. Please gentlemen, leave us more prosaic types our odd bits of magic to play with.
It's now freezing hard! Good night all.
7 comments:
You are quite correct Mike, it has nothing whatsoever to do with crystallography, refractive indices nor angles of incidence and refraction... I hate to admit it but it falls somewhere between miracles and magic.... as long as you just believe. And here comes the serious science, fairies might die if you stop believing!
Yours magically, Tinkerbell
I think we get your drift Mr Crowbard
Should we clap, just in case?
Sorry Rog, tongue in cheek scrap-irony a little heavy on the gravitas. In an infinite series of infinite universes only the impossible is an impossibility.
I suspect that only in our fragment of reality could pantomime exist at all.
You may address me as Stinkerbell if it helps.
Lost it there somewhere. Do you know Rog, there are times when when I know I am neither Sherlock nor Mycroft; Dr. Watson, perhaps?
With the gimpy leg, dapper drapes and the firearms expertise you fit the bill entirely Mike... er Dr. John Watson I presume!
And I suspect Rog, that I am on occasion more like Moriarty than Mycroft, but thanks all the same..
P.S.
Dear Z,
Oh No You shouldn't !
Lovely to speak with you both this afternoon. Sorry you've both been lurgied so thoroughly. All kindly wishes for a swift and full recovery. Might be an idea to polish up the silver cuspidors for Annie's croaky cough; they're tidier than strewing the floors with sawdust and Ann's always been a dead-shot with the cherry-pits... (I've still got the scars) Love to you both, Carl'n'Judy
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