Troposphere

My parents own a functional and decorative barometer, and my grandparents owned one before them, as undoubtedly did all my ancestors from thatched dwelling cottagers to double-glazed Dutch colonials; and so, surely, of some description, did the Biblical Noah and his wife.
Alas I do not possess a barometer myself, and neither do any of my friends hang such a device in their homes. Frankly, I would have no clue where one might purchase a barometer. You never see them for sale in shopping circulars or advertised on television. I suppose it must be the polyester weatherman who has replaced this poetic form of forecasting and what a shoddy substitute he is: the poor man’s meteorologist, the obsequious almanac, last of the blue screen buccaneers, mustachioed Isadora Duncans dancing their interpretation of a low-pressure zone.
Meanwhile, the arrival of a bustling cold front here, dourly predicted and announced, has heralded several days of full blast hosepipe rain, a relentless downpour that gathers to its showering bosom all the debris of Autumnal foliage, and so the drainage system beside my house now resembles an abandoned Waldorf salad drowned in watery dressing. Very enjoyable conditions for those of us who are always very happy when it tips down. I can sit fascinated and watch rain like an awe struck child observing falling snow for the first time. Ah yes, the mountain may not come to Mohammed but the seas will certainly come to Stephenesque.

And in such a merry mood I snapped this picture from one of the arched bridges that span the lagoons of the Charles river: a confetti of yellow, brown, and gold leaves circumnavigating concentric circles, sailing towards their own personal Byzantium.

Comments

[Bleak Mouse]

Before I noticed those telltale ripples, my first impression was that this was one of those supertelescopic photographs of the Magellanic Clouds or something. Of course, those ripples might have been some of those cosmic catastrophic events, inevitably expanding while destroying everything in their pathways, with the caption, "Photos Reveal Universe Doomed, Say Scientists."

[DarkoV]

BM, I was with you on the interpretation. The Cosmos and Stephenesque. So vast, complex, and beyond comprehension. Luckily, when clicking on the picture, "Drops" came up as a hint as to what the picture truly was. I'm now clicking on some of the other entries in Stephenesque, hoping he has added helpful clickies, explaining the mysterious paths lying just under the surface of his words.
Click.
Click!
Click, I say!