Is the bowl resonant?
Years ago, (many years ago), one of my met tech instructors (Norm, it was you, right?) explained that there were conversion factors. To evaluate just how much water had fallen, no matter the temperature. He then explained that water would melt snow, and at that point my math skills fell short. No matter.
Today, we’ve received 2.5 mm of rain. In earlier times, that would have meant 2.5 cm of snow, and children would have rejoiced. Now, we just shake off the water and carry on. In the end, the water will refresh my wells, and we’ll be able to avoid seeking water in nearby streams. Again, like in the old days.
I would love to wander the local fields, but there’s a risk involved. Old wells. If you don’t know the locations, you could find water, the hard way. Through gravity. I venture forth with caution. Bringing water home, one bucket at a time, pushed people to invent practical pumps. And get the pipes into the kitchen. I’ve not lived in a house without running water, (for many years). People didn’t waste something that required a bucket and a long walk.
It is raining out, continuing our reset on winter.
My latest discovery: Tibetan singing bowls. Where you can start the bowl singing, and then harmonize. Early version of the church choir. Seriously, though. Some people attribute medicinal benefits. I still note the ongoing battle between 432 Hz and 440 Hz. In my bands, we always went with the batter, and now I wonder if we might have had different musical outcomes. More study required. I checked the availability of the bowls on Amazon. For $36, you can make every one in your home hate you, a little more. And add to the conversations locally. About the crazy man with the odd sounds emanating from the house. I haven’t decided to further my discoveries. Can I dig out my tuning fork and hum along? In the absence of a resonant bowl.
