Feet and legs in Mount Pleasant.
There is a health food shop in The High Street where we buy porridge and Moroccan mint tea. It is packed with foods and remedies of all sorts however which seldom fail to intrigue. Today there is a leaflet on the counter promoting krill oil. Krill I know is a minute crustacean found in cool seas in vast quantities. It forms a major if not exclusive part of the diet of whales which suck it in like huge vacuum cleaners as they glide through the water. The oil is, the leaflet assures, packed with Omega 3 fats which are good for your heart, brain and vision. Whales must find it helpful too.
It is said that Eskimo people have a large number of words for snow, determined by the different sorts of snow encountered in the Arctic. It follows that the rich English language should have a similar number of words for rain, which is so important a component of the English climate. I can't thing of more than two - rain and drizzle. But this afternoon I can think of no word to describe what the air is full of. Not rain surely. It barely prickles the skin. But not mist either because it leaves a distinct layer of damp on face and clothes and under foot there is a sheen as though a fine spray has been applied. It is warm and plants seem to respond by releasing resinous scents.
There is a health food shop in The High Street where we buy porridge and Moroccan mint tea. It is packed with foods and remedies of all sorts however which seldom fail to intrigue. Today there is a leaflet on the counter promoting krill oil. Krill I know is a minute crustacean found in cool seas in vast quantities. It forms a major if not exclusive part of the diet of whales which suck it in like huge vacuum cleaners as they glide through the water. The oil is, the leaflet assures, packed with Omega 3 fats which are good for your heart, brain and vision. Whales must find it helpful too.
It is said that Eskimo people have a large number of words for snow, determined by the different sorts of snow encountered in the Arctic. It follows that the rich English language should have a similar number of words for rain, which is so important a component of the English climate. I can't thing of more than two - rain and drizzle. But this afternoon I can think of no word to describe what the air is full of. Not rain surely. It barely prickles the skin. But not mist either because it leaves a distinct layer of damp on face and clothes and under foot there is a sheen as though a fine spray has been applied. It is warm and plants seem to respond by releasing resinous scents.
2 comments:
Haar? Not sure if it is what yo7u describe, but I've always liked the word.
Lovely word Haar. Thank you. A cold sea fog, says one dictionary. What I was talking about was sparse warm mist a sort of reluctant spray.
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