This photo was taken well after sundown. The light on the ridgeline is reflected from snow off the Olympic Mountains, bouncing back into the sky and reflected again off the clouds. It looks as if it could be from city lights, but there is no city in this direction, just mountains for a hundred miles or so.
The photo is also an excellent demonstration of the low-light capabilities of the iPhone X. The human eye can distinguish many subtle variations in light and color, and cameras are not yet even close to such sophistication. But they are making astonishing strides, especially when backed up with the computer power of a sophisticated phone.
Siri does haiku. Haiku is a very ancient form of Japanese poetry, based on a pattern of seventeen syllables over three lines of five, seven and five syllables. It is also the bane of introductory literature students unfamiliar with poetry (or syllables, or creative writing), as often they are required to start writing haiku with little or no background information.
But Siri can make that quite easy:
That last haiku, in fact, is an item of envy: wish I’d thought of that.
This was the early version of Google. Using these humble wooden drawers, generations of scholars and researchers, desperate students and cunning spies, despairing parents and fanatical bibliophiles, and every other shape and size of reader delved into the depth and breadth of human understanding.
Something worth considering: Google contains only a fraction of the knowledge once cataloged by card catalogs. Technology has digitized and indexed only that which is easy to digitize and index; most journal articles, newspaper articles, books, scientific papers, notebooks and other written material are still confined to physical forms, and unknown to Internet search engines.
Louisville is a seaport, of sorts. The Louisville, Kentucky, “seacoast” is the waterfront along the Ohio River, with that other coastal state, Indiana, just across the water. Barge traffic has moved up and down the river for a couple of centuries, winding its watery way to the Gulf of Mexico.
Most of the waterfront is industrial, or devoted to roads. There are a couple of parks. And a boat ramp, where this sign was found:
Less whimsical is this concrete obelisk, marked off in feet, showing the height of the river above “normal” elevation. At 26.5 feet is a note that this was the height of the 1997 flood. A mark at 29.2 feet shows the 1964 flood level. A mark at 30.1 feet shows the 1945 flood level. And the red arrow at the top points to the air above the 32 foot mark, noting the 1937 flood level, at 40 feet, would be somewhere up there.