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I Really Don’t Know Clouds At All

June 12, 2013

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“Do clouds make the wind?” was the latest classic question from little H yesterday.  There had been a few.  We’d had: “Why do birds peck?”, “Do birds peck the clouds when they fly?” and “What is wind?”

I’d managed to field most of them and, when I was properly stumped, distracted H with a Jaffa Cake.  This last one, though, had me on the ropes for a couple of seconds…and then I called in the cavalry.

The cavalry, in this instance, took the form of my father who (thanks to my overexcitement at being able to pass the buck meaning that I completely forgot about the time difference) kindly answered our FaceTime (TM) call whilst in bed in his dressing gown at far-too-early-o’clock.

He used to be a pilot.  He was impressive.  I think he’d barely had a sip of his morning tea before he treated H to a detailed explanation of how, rather than the clouds making the wind, the wind made the clouds.   H was captivated the entire time, even when my father started talking about air moving over hills and different air pressures and so on (I have to admit that I switched off a little and started making a cake at this point so I can’t fill in all the gaps).  

H didn’t ask anymore questions that day, but today he’s been watching the clouds very closely.

There are a lot of clouds to watch as, Praise The Lord, it’s been raining.  It was 45 C yesterday and quite humid and, gosh, I was irritable.  Today, however, all is fresh and new and smelling divine.  This afternoon we’re going to go to the pool to see if we can see any frogs as apparently they like to go in the pool when it rains.  It’s all good.  

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3 Comments
  1. Sara permalink

    45 C makes us all irritable!! Love the blog and the posts!

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  2. Love that song. Yes, I got the reference.

    I remember learning a bit about clouds in Geography, but can’t remember diddly squat about them. I don’t think your dad can be right about the wind making the clouds, though. How could wind make cotton wool?

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  3. I know – I didn’t like to say anything to my father as he seemed to be on a good roll, but obviously he’d got it wrong. We all know that they’re just sheep without legs. Poor chap – so wrong all these years.

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