Recently, one of our more fastidious grammarians pursued a usage of suspicious pedigree until it evaporated into the mists of coincidence.
Is this a case of supplanting a suspected offence against linguistic purity with an offence against scientific plausibility?
Where's the probs, Dub-dub?
Scientifically speaking, mist is caused by the evaporation of water.
Other matter, in liquid form, can also evaporate and may or may not cause a mist.
Co-incidence is a decidedly misty (not to say mystical) happening.
So, from a metaphoric point of view, I can't see anything wrong with your highlighted phrase, above.
Dear WM: Mist is formed by the condensation of vapor. So his metaphor is assbackwards.
That's Wordminstrel up there--not WW.
I would ask whether mist is more likely formed by condensation rather than evaporation?
Quietly sitting by watching the tempest swirling in the smudge pot
evaporation per se does not cause mist.
air can contain some moisture depending on the temperature.
water evaporates from open water surfaces (and being evaporated by plants) during the day. but mist occures only when the temperature of environment drops below a certain point and excess vapour is condenced.
the methaphor above is difficult to understand and probablu incorectair can contain some moisture depending on the temperature.
water evaporates from open water surfaces (and being evaporated by plants) during the day. but mist occures only when the temperature of environment drops below a certain point and excess vapour is condenced.
the methaphor above is difficult to understand and probably incorrect
Coincidence, having less *substance than appearance, is an excellent target for a 'mist' analogy... the context, however, must be *borrowing itself to 'evaporation'. [optimist-e]
That's Wordminstrel up there--not WW.
Whoops! Post poste-haste, riposte at leisure!
Sorry, both WM and WW!
it evaporated into the mists of coincidence
Evaporation: liquid water - vapour
Condensation: vapour - liquid (water droplets around particulate matter in the air like dust)
Precipitation: suspended water droplets in atmosphere (from cloud) - liquid or solid water forms onto the ground (onto land)
There wouldn't be a mist without condensation and we couldn't get condensation without evaporated vapour settling around condensation particles. It is cyclical.
So, the part about something evaporating into a mist seems to me to be both semantically and scientifically correct.
However, I am uncomfortable with the 'mists of coincidence' part. I understand the metaphorical sense of 'mists' as, alluding to qualities that obscure, blur, confuse; anything that evades clarity. Maybe even ephemeral. Its meretricious quality seems less likely to be the metaphorical element.
A coincidence is an event; it is an occurence. It might evade understanding; we might view it as esoteric and imbue it with symbolism, but none of this makes it 'misty'.
Still, there is always the matter of artistic license, I suppose. 
Parbly y'all got confused by my imprecision when I seemed to be saying that all irregular verbs are intransitive and all regular verbs transitive. I didn't mean to imply that but it certainly looks like I did if you take what I said at face value. That is my fault and I apologize for the confusion I have created.
I shall now evaporate into the midst of coinference.
I apologize for the confusion I have created.
hey.. Hey.. HEY! Cut that out!
I don't understand the point of this thread. Would wordminstrel care to explain?
Dear AS: Wordminstrel is making the kind of point I feel important. There is no goddamned
excuse for confusing "evaporate" and "condense". Water evaporates to vapor, vapor condences
to mist.
no goddamned excuse for confusing "evaporate" and "condense".
We're often confused.
I didn't read it any of those ways. I read it such that coincidence has a quality of misty-ness to it(someone did mention this early on) and that whatever it was that evaporated, faded into that mist. it did not become the mist. it got lost in the fog, so to speak.
I like the phrase "mists of coincidence".
so there.
Dear Falsdage: Sorry to hear you're in a fog. I hope it clears up.Either by condensing further
to rain, or evaporating to invisible vapor.
Can you tell shit from Shinola? Gotta be careful about that.
What precipitated all this arguing?
it got lost in the fog
Indeed, eta. There's no issue with whatever decided to get lost in the fog. The supposed misty nature of coincidence, is however at issue. I believe that there is nothing foggy about coincidence, per se. It is the 'causation' of the coincidence, that is elusive. And so, an allegorical reference to its mystical nature, I can accept. As in, 'a mystical coincidence'. I would be uncomfortable with, 'a misty coincidence'.
I would be uncomfortable with, 'a misty coincidence'.yeah, me, too. a little, I guess. but I like the idea of "the mists" of coincidence. I agree with Rhubarb that coincidence itself is mysterious, and hence, could be metaphorically "misty".
this seemed to become a discussion on whether mist/fog is evaporation or condensation, and I felt that that lost the sense of the original question.
You guys are so funny. It's like watching an Abbott and Costello movie.
In reply to:
Recently, one of our more fastidious grammarians pursued a usage of suspicious pedigree until it evaporated into the mists of coincidence.
Is this a case of supplanting a suspected offence against linguistic purity with an offence against scientific plausibility?
Well, et', what was the question? It appears that wordminstrel was writing the first sentence as one to examine with the part in blue to be considered by the board: "evaporated into the mists of coincidence." Wordminstrel writes next: "Is this a case..." And I took "this" to refer especially to the highlighted blue part of the sentence.
I understood the first sentence to mean that some grammarian was hot on the trail of some suspicious usage. [I'm so curious about this sentence now that I would love to know what the 'suspicious' usage had been, in fact.] This very determined grammarian doggedly tracked down the usage using whatever means were available until reaching that point that at which 'it' (it referring to either 'usage' or 'pedigree,' but most likely 'usage' though 'it' is closer to 'pedigree') evaporated into these troublesome mists.
Wordminstrel asks us whether this a a case of supplanting this case of the grammarian on that hunt to search out pedigree with an offence against scientific plausibility. Unless I completely misread the thread opener (and perhaps I did and will welcome having Wordminstrel say so), I think the essence of the question was one about the science in the statement, or, to simplify and be very direct:
Can something be said to evaporate into mists, scientifically speaking?
Well, no. Not exactly. Water vapor condenses into mist. But, as someone pointed out above, in the chain of events in the water cycle, part of what makes water vapor is evaporation from bodies of water--part of the cause, too, is transpiration from plants. We've discussed most of this. It seems to me, however, that to say something evaporates into a mist of anything leaves out a vitally important step in the water cycle: condensation. So the metaphor doesn't work for me personally on a scientific level. Wordminstrel was asking whether we thought there had been a scientifically plausible offense. I think there was; so does wwh; so does Vika and others up there. I think that's the question Wordminstrel was asking.
But I could be wrong. It would be good to hear from Wordminstrel.
Interesting discussion here all around.
Abbott and Costello movie
I take that back; make it a Marx Brothers movie. There's a Zeppo in here somewhere.
pssttt...Faldage, I am not getting the joke.......what is it?
It seems to me, however, that to say something evaporates into a mist of anything leaves out a vitally important step in the water cycle: condensation. So the metaphor doesn't work for me personally on a scientific level
Condensation happens 'after' evaporation. So, where are we leaving out this part of the cycle. The statement only refers to the 'first' step in the hydrology cycle; how then an omission? Assume I am standing on a hill top with a steaming kettle. The swirling mists surround me and my kettle. I perceive now, the boiling water in my kettle gushing out in puffs of steamy vapour from the spout and slowly but surely, evaporating and disappearing into the mist. Why is this scientifically or realistically implausible?
Here's a simple list of actions:
1. Evaporation and transpiration occur.
2. The atmosphere becomes more filled with water vapor from evaporation and transpiration.
3. Due to a variety of physical circumstances, the water vapor in the atmosphere condenses.
4. One of the possible outcomes of such condensation is mist.
Maahey, I'm just saying that to leap from evaporation to mist in the statement with which Wordminstrel begins this thread is problemmatical to me in my understanding of the water cycle. You write:
So, where are we leaving out this part of the cycle. I'm just suggesting that steps 2. and 3. are ignored by any suggestion that water evaporates into mist. I certainly wasn't envisioning a steaming kettle while reading Wordminstrel.
But I will tell you, the thought of your standing on a hillside with a steaming kettle is an amusing one. I imagine a group of ayleurs standing around watching that steaming kettle and discussing the metaphorical applications of the event.
I imagine a group of ayleurs standing around ...
So Jackie and I would have to take our ball and go play elsewhere. I see....
I'll bring my bat and glove, Anna!
I'll join y'all. Us AWADdies gots to stick together. Besides, y'all'll need a numpire.
Yeah, to tell us "who's on first?"!
who's on first
What is this, an Abbott and Costello movie?
Post Edit:
Abbott and Costello 34.7 T
Abbot and Costello 6 T
the boiling water in my kettle gushing ... and slowly but surely, evaporating and disappearing into the mist.
As WW says, there is a missing link in the original metaphor between 'evaporation' and 'mist.
"evaporating and disappearing" into mist nicely fills the void.
Thank you, maahey, for supplying the missing link.
BTW, is "evaporation into mist" any worse than "clouded in a sea" ... as in the following example of a mixed metaphor (from UVic Writer's Guide).
MIXED METAPHOR
A mixed metaphor attempts to create an extended comparison but fails because it is not consistent with itself. For example, in an essay on the language used in describing pain relief medicine, a student wrote:
"The topic of pain relievers seems clouded in a sea of medical terminology."
The metaphor is mixed because the images of cloud and sea do not match. The student should have said either "drowned in a sea of medical terminology" or "clouded in a fog of medical terminology."
Metaphor can be effective, but do not put too much weight on your own ingenuity; it might collapse under the strain.
yah, I'm a dope. I'm all missed up about this one. foggy. foggy. do.
do not put too much weight on your own ingenuity
Arright, Mr. Mixed Metaphor. Name the right fielder.
imagine a group of ayleurs standing around watching that steaming kettle and discussing the metaphorical applications of the event.
A most enticing proposition, WW!
Great to see you again in one of your many guises, wordminstrel -- and a big "thank-you" for not only teaching us semi-literates and/or fastidious grammarians what's what, but also for the reminder of one of my favorites:
"Or to take arms against a sea of troubles..."--Hamlet, Act III, Scene I
a big "thank-you" for not only teaching us semi-literates and/or fastidious grammarians
I questioned the usage, dear ASp, not the author of the usage ... unless someone takes umbrage with the description "fastidious grammarian".
Personally, I think all grammarians should be "fastidious", or what's the point of being a grammarian?
I would certainly not describe you as "semi-literate", ASp, nor Faldage as "semi-grammatical".
In reply to:
the reminder of one of my favorites:
"Or to take arms against a sea of troubles..."
But it's hard to beat Sir Boyle Roche:
Mr Speaker, I smell a rat; I see him forming in the air and darkening the sky; but I'll nip him in the bud.
Bingley
nor Faldage as "semi-grammatical"
Bestn't be callin' *me no semi-grammatical. I gots me more grammar in my left little finger than any bowlin-team's worth of prescripters gots in they whole body.
Sir Boyle Roche
Who is or was he, please?
Invented "herb" tea, using the fag-ends of marijuana cigarettes.
Who was Sir Boyle Roche?
He also invented the Roche clip [more fondly remembered than his "herb" tea].
BTW Roche tea fell out of favor when a follower was caught burning the midnight oil at both ends.
Dear Jackie: we had several posts about Sir Boyle Roche over ayear ago.
Mr Speaker, I smell a rat; I see him forming in the air and darkening the sky; but I'll nip him in the bud."
The statement comes from an Irish MP (Member of Parliament) of the late 18th century, Sir Boyle Roche. The picture it evokes — of a creature that combines rat-ness with features of both clouds and flowers — is one worthy of Lewis Carroll.
Ok, thanks. He boyled his tea, I presume?
Sir Boyle Roche's other great contribution to the English language was:
"And what has posterity ever done for us?"
Bingley
Isn't
steam a mist, as is fog, and so doesn't boiling water (i.e.
steaming water) evaporate directly into
mist then? If steam is not a type of mist, then what is it?
Which leads to the question of the choice of mists(s) in the plural in the metaphor wm cited. Why a plural? Why not "the mist of coincidence". Is the author implying there are
degrees of coincidince just as ther are degrees of mist (light mist, steam, heavy fog, etc.) You can have an obvious coincidence or a subtle coincidence, and other varieties of coincidence in between, can't you? In fact, a miracle, or synchronicity, would be a heavy coincidence, not very misty at all, and, OTOH, there are miniscule connections you become aware of in some things which might lead you to say 'there might be some coincidence there.'
So
the plurality of mist must be of some consequence in the chosen metaphor here.
And, speaking of the plurality of mist, the expression "
clouded in a sea [of]" is something I've heard frequently over the years in both writing and speech, almost something of an idiom. Once a metaphor takes on its own life as an idiomatic expression (which is like a new word) the linguistic specifics of its original conjuring then take a back shelf to its new semantic life, don't you think? Specifically, I agree it is the same as, say, "drowning in a sky of trouble." But if the meaning is implicit and not obscure then the
language of the metaphor works, does it not?
And, Faldage, just one question: Who's on first?
This whole question of steam is interesting, Juan. It's been raised here on this thread several times. I googled just now "steam and condensation" to try to get a better handle on the relationship between the two, and read this note about steambaths:
"Evaporation of water requires heat. Condensation releases heat. When we spill water on the rocks, heat is taken from the rocks to evaporate the water into steam. When the steam condenses into water on our skin, the latent heat of the steam is released onto our bodies. This is why people put grass in their mouths. The steam condenses in the grass, not the lungs. http://www.ankn.uaf.edu/VS/steambaths.htmlMy hunch is the steam we can see is the condensed water that results when the released hot gas from the boiling kettle is immediately cooled and condensed by the cooler temperature of the air. That boiling water, in other words, evaporates to gaseous state, but is immediately visible due to condensation caused by the cooler air. I would think steam is a combination of gas and water--two things occurring nearly simulataneously, but, oh, the difference! We can't see the gas of evaporated water (obviously) that is occurring so rapidly, but we do see the resultant rapid-fire result of the nearly instantly condensed water in the plume of steam. Metaphorically, I don't have any problem with the water in that kettle evaporating into a mist since the condensation factor occurs so very, very directly in connection with the evaporation of the kettle water. That's why I suggested above to Maa' that we could have a bit of fun on the hill with her steaming kettle and exploring metaphorical connections.
Also, didn't Faldage suggest as much with his whitened-out smudge pot way up there toward the beginning of the thread--or did I miss his jest?
Once a metaphor takes on its own life ... the linguistic specifics of its original conjuring then take a back shelf to its new semantic life
How true, W'ON. Another twist on this phenomenon: expressions which enter the language which are not true to the original.
A famous example: Winston Churchill is remembered for saying "I have nothing to offer but blood, sweat and tears" but he actually said:
"I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears, and sweat."
When we accuse someone of "gilding the lily", we think we are quoting Shakespeare. But Shakespeare wrote "To gild refined gold, to paint the lily".
Invariably, the mis-quotation which enters the language is an improvement on the original.
How much of a literary giant's reputation is owed to a rogue editor, I wonder?
>Invariably, the mis-quotation which enters the language is an improvement on the original.
Invariably? Forgive me, nut I can't resist. All generalisations are dangerous. Here's a famous misquote that is not, in my opinion, an improvement on the original.
"Alas, poor Yorrick, I knew him well."
Here's a famous misquote that is not, in my opinion, an improvement on the original:
"Alas, poor Yorrick, I knew him well."
Some might consider this the exception which proves the rule, sjm, but, personally, I prefer the popular misquote to the original:
'Alas, poor Yorick, I knew him, Horatio."
I don't like the misquote because it makes no sense - why would a crown prince know a court jester well. Add in the fact that in the original he is talking to Horatio, and it just grates yet more.
Oh, and here's another misquote that, in my opinion, is not as good as the original:
"A rose, by any other name, would smell as sweet."
Isn't steam a mist, as is fog
Thank you, Juan, for hoisting this thread back up onto its proper course.
Thank you, Juan, for hoisting this thread back up onto its proper course.Yeahbut®, how can anything be on its proper course if it's lost in a fog?
"Stammering is the native eloquence of us fog people."
--Eugene O'Neill
why would a crown prince know a court jester well?
Why?
Read on, sjm, just one sentence further. Why? Because this jester "hath borne me on his back a thousand times ... Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft".
It is Yorick who is fondly remembered here, not Horatio. Horatio is nothing more than a prop on this occasion, irrelevant to Hamlet's reminiscence.
Again we see the art in the misquotation, sjm:
"Alas, poor Yorick, I knew him well" adds to the original what is necessary and implied, and subtracts from the original what is irrelevant and distracting.
In the process, it becomes a badge of grief for the loss of someone dear, communicating emotions which are totally absent from the original when excised from the Play.
Shakespeare would surely approve.
Thank you, sjm, for providing so vivid a proof of the axiom I have stated so boldly. [I worried that I might be skating on thin ice but you have convinced me otherwise.]
BTW I have never encountered "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet" before. I take your word for it that some people use it, but it has not become a standard substitution [thankfully] and, therefore, it does not abridge our rule.
Thank you, Juan, for hoisting this thread back up onto its proper course
This mixed metaphor is right up there with "evaporation into the mist", Faldage. You have, indeed, hoisted us back on course. Bravo. Do you have more?
I imagined some kind of multi-tracked roller coaster with the thread's having been a car fallen off one of the tracks and Juan's having hoisted the car back up with a system of pulleys.
tryin' waaaay too hard, dub-dub.
Hey, eta. Just caught y'all on PHC. You guys rocked our socks off.
hey, thanks!
Sorry I missed your performance, 'et. Rats!
Now about this observation:
tryin' waaaay too hard, dub-dub.
I didn't try at all. I was just letting you know how my mind automatically and effortlessly envisioned what Faldage wrote.
This thread started with a query about the phrase, 'evaporating into THE mists of coincidence'. There is a definite article there and therefore, the presence of a mist is already assumed by the speaker. The speaker never suggests not intends to suggest that THIS particular evaporation is what is causing the mist. I don't see anything in that sentence that implies that, this evaporation 'became' the mist.
Somewhere along the road, this phrase has been converted into, 'evaporation into mist'. And hence, all this scientific/semantic plausibility confusion. There would be no mix up, metaphorical or otherwise, if it is read as it originally was meant to read: evaporation into THE mists of coincidence.
Ah! You've hit the nail on its mist-enshrouded head, Maa'! The absence of one very simple three-lettered word generated so many unnecessary ones, mine included. Now that's that, huh?
Edit: But it's still a strange metaphor. There are those mists of coincidence already hovering out there somewhere in Coincidence World. And there's the grammarian tracking down a usage and its pedigree--and his search? His delvings into some usage evaporates. OK. It evaporates. And the place into which it evaporates is this misty area of coincidence. This is a misty metaphor and I am blind inside of it. Wordminstrel: Would you please either PM me the context out of which the metaphor came or paste it here?
Would you please either PM me the context out of which the metaphor came or paste it here?
I went looking for the passage when you first asked about it several days ago, WW, but I couldn't find it. I thought it was in "breathing" ... but no luck finding it there.
In any event, the author of this "Faldage" has never denied its provenance, and I quoted it faithfully, word for word, at the top of this thread, thus:
it evaporated into the mists of coincidence
Personally, I don't understand what the fuss is all about.
Suffice it to say that a metaphor which hangs on a thread of contentious, technical explication is a failed metaphor, even if it isn't a mixed metaphor.
a metaphor which hangs on a thread of contentious, technical explication is a failed metaphor
Well, this certainly isn't a blovian thread.
Or is it?
To bloviate a bit more as any good wordwind would:
Well, I've been won over. The more I think about the metaphor, the more I believe it works. There's coincidence and there's coincidence: There's coincidence that is surprising--even startling in its aura of pretermined inevitability (Jungian synchronicity)--and there's coincidence that we say "Pish-posh!" to. It seems to me that this grammarian was checking out pedigree of some usage, and reached a point at which that search evaporated into that area of coincidence that was misty at best--the "pish-posh" sort of coincidence that lacks stability and a pause-for-thought about inevitability.
>I went looking for the passage...
here it is in all of its turbidity:
a general rule that transitive verbs are regular and intransitive verbs irregular
Just to muddy the water, I spent a little time researching the history of this rule and the more I looked the more it seemed to evaporate into the mists of coincidence.
-joe (a taxonomist is a terrible thing) friday
Thanks, joe. I've now got a clear mental image of this turbid activity:
The grammarian, in his hip boots, stomping all around in the muddiest waters of research, realizes at some point in his stomping that these muddy waters are evaporating into the mists of coincidence.
Well, I've been won over. The more I think about the metaphor, the more I believe it works.
At last, it seems, we have wrestled this murky metaphor to the ground.
Perhaps, in the process, we have discovered a "new world" of metaphors, and Faldage has become our Magellan.
In the past, writers used metaphors like a magnifying glass to elucidate difficult ideas. A good metaphor was seen as one which made the arcane, the abstruse, even the ineffable, accessible to ordinary readers.
What we have discovered is a strain of metaphor which confounds the reader at first blush, and obliges him or her to contemplate the navel of the universe, so to speak.
If Faldage has the distinction of being our Magellan in this "new world" of metaphors, may I claim the distinction of naming it? Inspired by the passage which follows, I christen this variant the talmudic metaphor.
"In the Talmudic method of text study, the starting point is the principle that any text that is deemed worthy of serious study must be assumed to have been written with such care and precision that every term, expression, generalization or exception is significant not so much for what it states as for what it implies."
There may not be much call for "talmudic metaphors" in our everyday world but, somewhere, at the boundary between "what is", and "what is not" [just as we deciphered at the boundary between evaporation and condensation], Schroedinger's cat will always land on its feet.
There is something reassuring about this. At least, for me.
a general rule that transitive verbs are regular and intransitive verbs irregular
Just to muddy the water, I spent a little time researching the history of this rule and the more I looked the more it seemed to evaporate into the mists of coincidence.
Ah!...vis-a-vis "the mists of descriptivism."
seeding-the-tumult-and-taking-a-front-row-seat e
"...text that is deemed worthy of serious study..."
- and -
somewhere, at the boundary between "what is", and "what is not" [just as we deciphered at the boundary between evaporation and condensation], Schroedinger's cat will always land on its feet.Not that I'd personally question anything's "worthiness of study" (especially the "navel of the universe"), nor would I challenge 'nature' by ever buttering the toast tied to the feet of Schroedinger's cat and hang it by the tail over a bottomless pit, but to insinuate that there may not be
much call for so called "talmudic metaphors" (even without its capitilization
) seems to be coming from a gestalt of surrealism... not that there's anything *wrong with that.
much need for, however, I would contemplate directly.
coming from a gestalt of surrealism-and-
The more I think about the metaphor, the more I believe it worksI believe we are all on the same page here, musick.
I also agree with WW that subscribing to the metaphor in question is more a matter of 'belief' than reason.
BTW I have not capitalized "talmudic" in "talmudic metaphors" out of respect for Talmudic studies.
Schroedinger's cat will always land on its feet.
But not if it doesn't exist. And that probably depends on whether prescriptivism is a standing wave or just a mass of particles jammed up against the quantum grill of understanding ...
- Pfranz
Schroedinger's cat will always land on its feet ... But not if it doesn't exist.
Well, yes and no, Capfka.
"What is not" could be embedded in Bohm's "implicate" order, in which case the cat is always on its feet and only "lands" when we actually see it.
Someone who understands Bohm [far more than I ever will] explains:
"In Bohm's view, all the separate objects, entities, structures, and events in the visible or explicate world around us are relatively autonomous, stable, and temporary "subtotalities" derived from a deeper, implicate order of unbroken wholeness."
all the separate objects, entities, structures, and events in the visible or explicate world
That's OK, wordmistral. You just sit down, close your eyes and take a few deep breaths and everything will be all right.
Yeah, wot Faldo said. Me, I can't fix cars, never mind quantums.
- Pfranz
That's OK, wordmistral. You sure you didn't mean word
mistrial, there, Faldo? [Freudian-slipping e]
mistral (noun) -
1. a strong north wind that blows in France during the winter
Source: WordNet ® 1.7, © 2001 Princeton University The mistral had an effect on Vincent Van Gogh and his paintings as evidenced by this:
http://www.vangoghgallery.com/painting/p_0712.htm, among others. It is also said to cause headaches and a general feeling of malaise
http://www.hedweb.com/bgcharlton/depression.htmlWhy is this so?
http://watershed.net/negions_n_health.htmSince this article is a long one, here are some of the pertinent paragraphs:
Turning to the adverse effects associated with certain ion environments, there have been long traditions in the folklore of nearly every country that link certain changes in weather with changes in health and behaviour. One such tradition has to do with the winds of ill repute, for example, the Foehn (Southern Europe), Sirocco (Italy), Santa Ana (United States), Khasmin (Near East), and Mistral (France). Wherever they prevail, their victims attribute to them the ability to induce respiratory distress of various sorts, nervousness, headache and a multitude of other ills. So malign is their influence that when they blow, judges deal leniently with crimes of passion, surgeons postpone elective surgery and teachers expect more than the usual fractiousness from their students.
Since the turn of the century, several scientists and physicians have hypothesised that the immediate cause of such malaise is the upset in electrical balance of the atmosphere that precedes or accompanies the winds. This relationship between air ions and disease, tenuous at first, is finding support in the meteorological observations of investigators such as Robinson and Dirnfield who studied the Sharav, a weather complex afflicting the Near East and characterised by persistent wind, a rapid rise in temperature and a fall in relative humidity. Robinson and Dirnfield measured solar radiation, temperature and relative humidity, wind velocity and direction and the electrical state of the atmosphere before, during and after the Sharav. They found that 12 - 36 hours before the characteristic changes in wind, temperature and humidity, the total number of ions increased (from 1500 ions/cm3 to 2600 ions/cm3) and the ratio of positive to negative ions jumped from the normal 1.2 to 1.33. This early shift in ion density and ratio coincided with the onset of nervous and physical symptoms in weather sensitive people and was considered the only meteorological change that could be responsible for the discomfort associated with the Sharav [32].
I read recently that the French were the first to have a go at building the Panama Canal (having gained considerable expetise with Suez). After many years, and over 20,000 deaths, they gave up and the project was eventually finished by the Americans. Of interest to me was that most of the 20,000 deaths were due to malaria, which the French believed came from the noxious air (hence, malaria). They were careful to wear masks but continued to drop like flies, as it were.
That's OK, wordmistral
-and-
mistral (noun) -
a strong north wind that blows in France during the winter
I think I have deconstructed your "wordmistral" coinage, dear Faldage.
Wordmistral -
a strong north wind that blows at Faldage during the winter.
Ah, but Spring has arrived, Faldage. And Wordminstrel blows nothing but gentle breezes your way.
Dear Wordminstrel: please don't evaporate into a mistral.
Dear JH: Malaria was bad, but yellow fever was worse.
Sanitation and mosquito control as implemented by John Reed and Gorgas and Goethals made the difference.
please don't evaporate into a mistral
.... ... .. .
???That pretty much sums up my reaction to this entire thread.
You've mist the point. It's not ???, it's
"???? ??? ?? ?", evaporating into th...
(anyone know Morse code? " .... S .. E " )
edit: It's "h-s-i-e;" i.e. nothing to write home about.
Musick, play
Misty for me...
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind...