It wasn't me. You can't prove anything.


2010-08-31

Roaming mountains

Today at work a couple of thunder storm es rolled past. It never fails to amaze me how graceful those huge monsters are. They are as big as a mountain and yet they just float there steady. Sometimes growing. Sometimes breaking up. All the time they are a presence of their own.

The small thunderheads are tall and skinny. They hit the thermal level and the top flattens out. They are called anvil clouds. Dark clouds make rain, lightening, thunder, hail, tornadoes. They can be dangerous.

Majestic is the word that comes to my mind. Clouds in so many forms are beautiful. Stark gray overcast is about the only form of cloud I find ugly. My favorite are th poofy cumulus clouds floating at low altitude with wispy cirrus clouds at high altitudes. Storms are both beautiful and dangerous, like large wild animals. I wonder if more people are killed in the western world by weather than wild animals. Heck, the while world.

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