posts archived in Research

The Dimming of a Porch Light

Reading this made me happy:

NASA’s Kepler space­craft is ready to be moved to the launch pad today and will soon begin a journey to search for worlds that could poten­tially host life.

[…]

The mission will spend three and a half years sur­veying more than 100,000 sun-​like stars in the Cygnus-​Lyra region of our Milky Way galaxy. It is expected to find hundreds of planets the size of Earth and larger at various dis­tances from their stars. If Earth-​size planets are common in the hab­it­able zone, Kepler could find dozens; if those planets are rare, Kepler might find none.

In the end, the mission will be our first step toward answering a question posed by the ancient Greeks: are there other worlds like ours or are we alone?

[…]

If Kepler were to look down at a small town on Earth at night from space, it would be able to detect the dimming of a porch light as somebody passed in front,” said James Fanson, Kepler project manager at NASA’s Jet Propul­sion Labor­atory in Pasadena, Calif.

The original press release is on the NASA website, here, and you can find more inform­a­tion on the Kepler mission on Wiki­pedia, here, and also on the official website.

The Mighty Irrawaddy

Those of you who like rivers might enjoy Great Rivers of the World, a col­lec­tion of writings on rivers ori­gin­ally pub­lished in 1908, and avail­able now, in its entirety, on the Internet Archive website. Here is a passage from Emily A. Riching’s chapter on the “mighty Irrawaddy”:

The arrival of the Irrawaddy steamer, towing cargo “flats” in its wake, is the event of the week, and rustic barges thread the narrow defile above Bhamo bringing their con­tin­gent of produce and pas­sen­gers from distant villages on the confines of civil­iz­a­tion. One of the great “flats” is a floating market, where Burman and Kachin, Shan and Chin, display their varied mer­chandise to the motley throng of cus­tomers. Gaudy silks and cottons, rude pottery and quaint lacquer-​work, barbaric toys and trinkets, fruit, veget­ables, and sweet­meats, with house­hold utensils of every kind, fill the dusky space of the covered deck with bril­liant colour. Indolent Burmese doze and smoke on gaily-​striped quilts, while their wives chaffer and barter with business-​like aplomb; for the Burmese woman is the bread­winner of the family, and retains most of the com­mer­cial trans­ac­tions of the country in her capable hands. A pretty girl in white jacket and apple-​green skirt, with a pink pawa floating on her shoulders, sits on a pile of yellow cushions and smokes her big cheroot of chopped wood and tobacco in med­it­ative calm. Diamonds glitter in her ears, and ruby studs fasten her muslin bodice, for she goes as a bride to some distant river­side town, and carries her “dot” on her back. Strings of onions and scarlet chillies hang from the rafters above bales of fur from China. Children flit up and down, like many-​coloured but­ter­flies, in quaint costumes brightened with pink scarfs and tiny turban, mini­ature replicas of their elders, for no special garb of child­hood exists in Burma, and the general effect suggests an assemblage of gaily-​dressed dolls. Shan women in tall black turbans stand round a harper as he twangs the silken strings of a black and gold lyre with sounding-​board of var­nished deerskin. The weird frac­tional tones of native music, dis­cordant to European ears, har­monize with the semi-​barbaric envir­on­ment as the musician chants some heroic legend of the mythical past. Presently he approaches a mattress of white and scarlet, occupied by a woman whose brown Mon­go­lian face is blanched to the pallor of age-​worn marble by chronic pain, and sings a wild incant­a­tion over the sufferer, who by the advice of a fortune-​teller under­takes the weary journey to pray for healing at the Golden Pagoda of Rangoon. The charm appar­ently succeeds, for the tired eyes close, and as the song dies off in a whis­perin cadence a peaceful slumber smoothes the lines of pain in the troubled face. Family parties sit round iron tea-​kettles, and girls bring bowls of steaming rice from the rude galley where native pas­sen­gers cook their food.

You can find the entire book in the sites ‘Texts’ section, here.

And if after all that you want still more wordage on rivers, have a look through this handy bib­li­o­graphy compiled by Pro­fessor W. Andrew Marcus of the Uni­ver­sity of Oregon.



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