An arc of spectral colors, usually identified as red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet, that appears in the sky opposite the sun as a result of the refractive dispersion of sunlight in drops of rain or mist [1]

Nothing spectacular about this. I was out washing the car on Sunday morning, and in between bouts of getting soaked by passing rain showers and attacked by my cat, I managed to take the photo below. I was struck by the fact that the rainbow arcs from one house to another, and also by the geometric contrast with the overhead phone lines. Slightly processed, as it was from my 'phone. Small reflected 'bow barely visible above.

[1] answers.com

Strawberry Leaf

More messing around with a camera and the season of Autumn.
 

This Flower

I can't remember what the plant's called, but you've probably had one at some point or other, usually in the region of Christmas. Keep them going and they give an amazing display once or twice a year. The overall effect is stunning, but what I really like is taking the individual flowers in isolation - the colour intensity is immense, and the sharpness of the photo needs no enhancement. Wonderful.


Here's another, in fact:

Strange Things on the Sides of Buses, #283: "Style & Comfort Redefined"

I don't know what you look for in a bus. Personally, I look for it being out of my way, but others (who regularly use buses) would, I imagine, prefer ease of access, or low cost, or kindness to the environment, those sorts of things.

Comfort, too, would probably be fairly high on the list of priorities, so whoever put the slogan "Style & Comfort Redefined" down the side of the bus I saw this morning at least got part of it right.

Here's the thing, though: since when has one of the key attributes of a bus been how stylish it is? Let's set aside for a moment the fact that this is clearly a falsehood in any case, and concentrate on the reality that, for some reason, the coachworks have deemed it necessary to make this bus 'stylish'.

How is this going to change the experience for the average passenger? Are hundreds of people suddenly going to hop up a couple of levels on the old 'fit-o-meter' because they've been seen on a stylish bus? Will it ease their minds as they sit languishing in the quagmire of yet another Sheffield jam, knowing that they are lookin' smoooooth? Will they arrive at their destination feeling any less cheated by the ridiculous cost of public transport, or the fact that they've had to sit next to an old git who smells of wee?

I don't profess to understand for one second the world of marketing, so perhaps this is some clever trick I've missed. Or perhaps there really was a survey where it turned out that one of the most common complaints was "well, it could look a bit more stylish, couldn't it?". Perhaps "Style & Comfort Redefined" is exactly what people are after.

But then again, perhaps not.

Fictionary update

I'm still adding to the Fictionary. Today's entry is 'Preferdactyl'. Go and have a look...

Anatidaephobia

Was reminded of my favourite phobia today - 'Anatidaephobia' is the fear that somewhere, somehow a duck is watching you...

At long, long last...

Finally, in his tenth year in the sport, Jenson has done what he was born to do. Hats off to a top driver, winning the world championship in fantastic style. 

The Curious Language of Fashion

Actually, it's not that curious, it's just French, and most of us have come across French at some point in our lives. But I thought it odd that I was able to populate the following chart exclusively with French terms without having to dig around at all. It should be fairly self-explanatory:

Couldn't be bothered to find out how to put accents on the labels in Excel, seemed like too much effort...

Limoculture

I'm rather proud of this one. It's a lemon tree, grown from seed (or should that be 'from pip'?). Admittedly, I had little to do with the germination, having discovered the growth in a rather decrepit lemon I was juicing one day. But the seedling was lovingly transplanted from its doomed home into a purpose-built growing environment (a plant pot with some potting compost thrown in). It's not central, because it used to have a friend, from which it has now been parted; it's better that way.

I know nothing about lemon tree growing, so I can't pretend to offer expert advice. However, I can give you the following tips based upon my experiences:

• to begin, keep an old lemon for a good long while, at room temperature. You could even cut one end off to see if things grow towards the light
• when you have a seedling, plant it in good quality normal potting compost. I'm sure you're meant to use something special, but I didn't, and just look at it!
• Don't get it too wet, but don't let it dry out - put the pot on a saucer and water the saucer rather than the pot
• Pick a warm, sunny position for your plant - it'll love a warm, sunny position if mine is anything to go by

That's it, really. No idea if it'll ever bear fruit, but lemon trees are quite nice to look at anyway. 

Skylights

For the most part, what we as humans have created is a bit rubbish. The majority product of our civilisation seems to be concrete. Admittedly, the Romans were at it way before the rest of us, but they did it with, well, a bit more class...

However, this morning I was reminded that sometimes, and quite by luck, we as human beings create something truly majestic. It's transient, and you have to be up early to see it, but it is a wonder which never ceases to lift my spirits.

I refer, though you may never have guessed it, to pre-sunrise contrails. Blazing across the sky in a dash to burn as many hydrocarbons as they can, aeroplanes leave trails of hot exhaust fumes, which condense as they cool and lead to the creation of long, thin clouds in the upper atmosphere. Unless you are blind, or have never seen the sky, you will be familiar with the lattice-work of trails criss-crossing most of the sky on a clear day.

Pre-sunrise, though, these tracks take on a new aspect, as the sun - already risen for those in the upper atmosphere - sets the trails alight, tingeing the edges golden, and if the conditions are right casting massive shadows on cloud layers above.

It shouldn't be underestimated quite how beautiful this spectacle is. Yes, it's the product of an activity which fills our atmosphere with greenhouse gases, but to paraphrase slightly, every contrail has a silver lining.

Music, anger, etc.

Why am I getting so hacked off with music lately?

Was listening to Radio 1 and had to turn it off because it's all so damned boring and similar.

It's driving me nuts, all the stupid can't-write-an-original-lyric-for-love-nor-money "R'n'B" (my word, how I hate that concatenation), or the dire pseudo-rock-miserable-moaning-American stuff, or the I'm-a-stupid-ex-model-and-I'm-going-to-tell-you-you-can't-have-me-even-though-I-don't-realise-I'm-the-last-woman-you-would-want bull.

Grow some talent, you half-arsed idiots...

And so it begins... again...

With Lost now a distant memory (well, sort of...) a spangly new 'show' [1] has appeared to fill the missing "did you see?" item in the water-cooler conversation agenda.

FlashForward [2] has burst onto the modern sci-fi/spooky/conspiracy/Armageddon scene. I won't bore you with details, there's a fairly uninspired Wiki article here so feel free to check it out yourself.

Just thought it worth noting that there's another 'must-see' [3] Sunday night thing set to spawn a thousand pointless internet discussions about plot directions [4]. Yay.

[1] What's wrong with the word 'program'

[2] A smart adaptation of the word 'flashback'. Geddit? Good.

[3] Which means I mustn't.

[4] In this sense, the situation strongly resembles that of the Apple fanbase trying desperately to predict what's going to be released next, and scrabbling like starving vultures over every little tidbit of news.

Can you smell snow?

Wintry feelings today. Thoughts turn to Christmas, and to snowboarding, and other activities enjoyed in the dark, dormant months. The darkness and the coldness combine with shuttered windows and bright lights to induce sentiments not felt for some time. I long for winter in summer and for summer in winter. And in autumn and spring, I anticipate, and grow restless.

Winter is book reading time, and book writing time. As the days draw in and it becomes too cold, wet or treacherous to venture far from home, the mind begins more than ever to turn in on itself, to wander further into the realms of the imagination. Summer may be a fertile time for plants, but winter is when literature is grown and harvested.

Perhaps this winter my labours will bear fruit at last. A good book is there, bubbling under the surface, ready-written, if only in my mind. To the page it must be committed, and then... and then, well, who knows?