Cloudburst
posted at 7:33 pm
on Oct. 18, 2004
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Let’s discuss the word “cloudburst” for a second, shall we?
If you’re like most people, you haven’t ever given the word “cloudburst” much consideration, because you’re in a car or a house.
But today, I was in a different situation, and I suddenly started thinking a lot about the word.
I don’t know if it’s because I’m more literate, more prone to philosophizing, just really smart or what exactly, but one minute, I was walking to the local grocery store, and minutes later, there I was thinking about “cloudbursts” and standing under a “Don’t Walk” light.
“Cloudburst” is a compound word that comes from two roots: cloud, meaning, thing made of water that floats around all day and gradually seems to clear up in the afternoon until at 6:30 you have a great view even though it’s not sunny, and “burst,” meaning rupture like a water balloon.
So my trip home from the local grocery store, where I bought milk and ketchup, took about the same amount of time as my walk there, but I got about wetter by about infinity percent.
* * *
I am beginning to develop an operating assumption, which is that, no matter how nice the weather looks in Vancouver, you simply must take along something that can serve as a water-proof layer, such as a jacket and hat, or a vehicle and a parking garage. (Side note: They call them parkades here. Just so you know.)
So my University of Montana sweat shirt, while it did a great job of keeping me warm despite the autumn chill in the air, was not an adequate preparation for an extra-apartment excursion. And I know that now.
Live and learn and dry off and try again, I say.
Next time: We’ll discuss the history of the word “downpour.”
