Autumn

Autumn (pronounced aw-tuhm)

(1) The season between summer and winter; also known as the fall and once known as the harvest.  In the Northern Hemisphere it’s between the September equinox and the December solstice; in the Southern Hemisphere it’s between the March equinox and the June solstice.

(2) A time of full maturity, especially the late stages of full maturity or, sometimes, the early stages of decline.

1325–1375: From the Latin autumnus, replacing the Middle English autumpne (the modern form of which dates from the sixteenth century) from the Middle French autompne, from the thirteenth century Old French automne.  The Latin autumnus (also auctumnus, perhaps influenced by auctus "increase") is of unknown origin, some suspecting Etruscan root but a more supported view is a meaning "drying-up season" with a root in auq-, comparing the archaic English sere-month "August."  Interestingly, while “summer”, “winter” and “spring” are inherited Indo-European words in Latin, a foreign origin of autumnus is conceivable as there is no evidence for any similar etymology for “autumn"; indeed, autumn's names across the Indo-European languages leave no evidence there ever was a common word for it.  Many "autumn" words mean "end”, “end of summer" or "harvest" and variations include the Greek phthinoporon (waning of summer), the Lithuanian ruduo (autumn) rudas (reddish) in reference to leaves and the Old Irish fogamar (literally "under-winter”).  Harvest was the English name for the season until autumn began to displace it during the sixteenth century and “backend”, a once common name for the season in Northern England, has been mostly replaced by autumn.  In the Romance languages, the Italian autunno, the Spanish otoño and the Portuguese outono are all from the Latin word.  The only surviving derived form is the adjective autumnal; the meaning "maturing or blooming in autumn” dates from the 1570s, by the 1630s it had come to be used in the sense of "belonging or pertaining to autumn" and by the 1650s, figuratively as "past the prime".  Autumn is a noun and adjective and autumnal is an adjective; the noun plural is autumns.

Lindsay Lohan at Petro Zilla show, Mercedes-Benz Fall 2004 Fashion Week, Bryant Park, Manhattan, March 2004.

Autumn dates from medieval times, examples existing as early as the twelfth century but it wasn’t until the sixteenth it was in common use, having supplanted the earlier “harvest”.  Because it’s so much more evocative, the alternative word “fall” really is better than autumn.  The exact derivation of fall is unclear, with the Old English fiæll or feallan and the Old Norse fall all possible candidates.  The term came to denote the season in sixteenth century England, a contraction of Middle English expressions like "fall of the leaf" and "fall of the year" and it was seventeenth century English emigration to the American colonies which took “fall” across the Atlantic.  While the term fall gradually became nearly obsolete in Britain (though there are signs of a twenty-first century revival), it became close to universal in North America.  Season names are not capitalized in modern English unless at the beginning of a sentence or when the season is personified (as in Old Man Winter, Winter War, Summer Glau et al).  This is in contrast to the days of the week & months of the year, which are always capitalized.

The fallen leaves: why "the fall" is so much more evocative that "autumn".  However, the adjective autumnal remains indispensable because clumsy constructs like "fallesque" or "fallish" are ghastly.

Patterns of use of fall & autumn in US & British English.  The twenty-first century trends are attributed to the influence of the internet.

Ode to Autumn (1819) by John Keats (1795-1821).

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
   Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
   With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
   And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
      To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
   With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
      For summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.
 
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
   Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
   Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,
   Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
      Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
   Steady thy laden head across a brook;
   Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
      Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.
 
Where are the songs of spring? Ay, Where are they?
   Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
   And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
   Among the river sallows, borne aloft
      Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
   Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
   The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
      And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

The English romantic poet John Keats wrote his best-remembered ode To Autumn after a stroll near Winchester one autumnal evening.  Within a year of publication, Keats died in Rome.

Harvest

Harvest (pronounced hahr-vist)

(1) The season when ripened crops are gathered.

(2) The crop or yield of one growing season.

(3) A supply of anything gathered at maturity and stored.

(4) The result or consequence of any act, process, or event.

(5) To gather (a crop or the like); to reap.

(6) To gain, win, or use (a prize, product, or result of any past act, process etc)

(7) To catch, take, or remove (animals), especially for food.

(8) To collect (any resource) for future use.

(9) In epidemiological statistical analysis, as harvesting effect, a method used to calculate the excess deaths suffered during certain events (and the subsequent decrease in the expected normal mortality rate as the specific conditions subside.

(10) To extract an organ or tissue from a living or dead body, for the purposes of fertilization, transplantation or research.

(11) In modern paganism, a ceremony held on or around the autumn equinox, traditionally the harvesting season.

Pre 950: From the Middle English harvest & hervest (autumn, one of the four seasons; period between August and November), from the Old English hærfest (autumn, harvest-time; August), from the Proto-West Germanic harbist, from the Proto-Germanic harbistaz (harvest-time, autumn, fall) (source also of the Old Saxon hervist, the Old Frisian & Dutch herfst & the Old Norse haust (harvest)), from the primitive Indo-European kerp- (to gather, pluck, harvest).  It was cognate with the German Herbst (autumn) and related to the Old Norse harfr (harrow), the Old High German herbist (autumn), the Latin carpere (to pluck), the Ancient Greek karpos (fruit) and the Sanskrit krpāna (shears).  Curiously, the use in cell biology to refer to the extraction of cell began in 1946, the same year it appears first to have been applied to the hunting and gathering of wild animals.  The earlier (and mostly dialectical) forms harvist, hervest, harst & hairst are all obsolete.

Lindsay Lohan with a pair of ratchet loppers, pruning cuttings for the potting shed, May 2015.

In the Old & Middle English, it was primarily a season name, the sense of the implied reference to the gathering of crops just something of tradition and the specific, separate meaning (the time of gathering crops) dates only from the mid-thirteenth century, the sense extended to the action itself and the product of the action only after circa 1300.  Early in the sixteenth century, harvest assumed the now familiar meaning exclusively and the borrowed autumn and repurposed fall supplied the season name.  Being more evocative, fall is better than autumn.  The figurative uses began to emerge in the 1530s, use as an adjective documented early in the sixteenth century.  “Harvest home” which included the “festival feast”, was a festive event celebrating the bring home of the last of that season’s harvest and is first recorded in 1577.  The harvest moon, dating from 1704, was that which was full within a fortnight of the autumnal equinox.  Harvestable & harvestless are adjectives; harvestability and harvesting are nouns. 

The New Holland CR 10.90 Raupe-HSCR Harvester: harvesting.

The harvester, agent noun from harvest and noted since the 1590s, was “a reaper", a device used to assist in and speed-up the gathering of certain crops and the variations were many.  The first (vaguely) recognizable ancestor of the modern combine harvester was the generation of harvesters (the earliest of which were horse-drawn and seem to have been in use since the 1820s although no patent was issued until 1835) first sold in 1847 and advertised as machines for the “reaping and binding field crops".  The combine harvester (often referred to as “combines” or “headers”, the latter a reference to the bolt-on attachments optimized for particular crops) is so named because it combines in one machine the four separate harvesting operations, (1) reaping, (2) threshing, (3) gathering and (4), winnowing, the (5) multi-function headers a more recent innovation.  The tractor and the combine harvester are two of the most revolutionary machines, partially responsible for huge increases in agricultural production, equally dramatic reductions in the farm labour force and the consequent acceleration of urbanization as a demographic trend.

The Harvesting Effect

The harvesting effect (properly called mortality displacement) is a term from a process in epidemiological statistical analysis which maps and quantifies (1) a period where the human death rate significantly exceeds the predicted level and (2) a subsequent period when aggregate mortality is lower.  A harvesting effect is almost always associated with external factors such as war, extreme climatic conditions, famines or epidemics & pandemics.  Implicit in the model is the notion of a relationship of vulnerability between those who suffer an early death and the sudden change in external circumstances.  For example, when wars occur, there’s inherently the possibility of an accelerated death toll among those most likely to be serving in the most dangerous aspects of military service (fit, healthy young men) whereas when societies are subjected to extremes of heat or cold, it’s the frail and elderly who are most vulnerable.  The harvesting effect is a useful analytical tool because it can quantify the extent to which causation can be attributed: a subsequent drop in the mortality of a target population would suggest a high causal correlation because the heatwave, polar vortex or whatever, has in advance already harvested the expected victims.  That is rationalized as accelerated mortality, those who died as a result of the event were old and frail and thus likely soon anyway to die.  War-time and post-war data is interesting too for those studying not only the long-tail effects of physical injuries sustained in conflict but also those of mental illness caused by the trauma of the experience.  Historians can also use the data, where it exists with a high degree of reliability, to track the extent to which the causalities of war were civilians, something which in the West rose and fell between antiquity and the modern era before spiking dramatically in the wars of the twentieth century.

The harvesting effect is of great interest during and in the aftermath of pandemics and epidemics.  In the sombre world of public health policy, the harvesting effect is noted as one of the factors which can lead to pandemics and epidemics receding or even disappearing, the idea being the disease having already harvested the susceptible; those who remain are the strong who won’t succumb and the resistant who remain unaffected.  As a statistical source, the raw data of excess deaths is helpful too in determining the true death toll from a disease like COVID-19.  Difficult anyway in developing countries where in non-pandemic conditions there’s often a high proportion of deaths where a cause, even if known, isn’t recorded but in countries with highly developed health systems, many factors can mean the data is inaccurate.  That includes social stigma which in some countries apparently appears to some extent to have attached to COVID-19; it was certainly a factor in the early, misleading count of deaths from AIDS, the sudden spike in fatal pneumonia a sociological rather than a medical phenomenon.

Estimation of excess deaths against official COVID-19 deaths, published by The Economist, mid 2021.

A number of institutions accumulated the data-sets necessary to assess the true COVID-19 death toll and several, including the Financial Times and The Economist, collaborated to create the World Mortality Dataset (WMD) which contains both their statistical analysis and some discussion of the results.  At a time when the official global death toll was around 4.8 million, the findings published on the WMD (a perhaps unfortunate acronym) suggests a true number somewhere between 8 and 18.5 million.  Using the same statistical modelling, the death tolls for the previous four influenza pandemics (if happening now), they put at 75 million (1918), 3.1 million (1957), 2.2 million (1968) and 0.4 million (2009).  It certainly appears the official toll is significantly understated but the WMD does caution the usual caveats inhabit the margins: this is a composite of many data sets, capturing not only COVID-19 deaths (strictly speaking) but also those with some indirect association such as those suffering other conditions yet not able to secure timely treatment because the pandemic displaced healthcare resources.  It would be difficult to create a statistically robust formula to calculate relative contributions to death by various factors.  The method the WMD use they represent as:

Excess mortality = (A) Deaths directly caused by COVID infection

+ (B) Deaths caused by medical system collapse due to COVID pandemic

+ (C) Excess deaths from other natural causes

+ (D) Excess deaths from unnatural causes

+ (E) Excess deaths from extreme events: wars, natural disasters etc.

Running the COVID-19 numbers also produced some interesting finding of general interest in the field of public health.  There were some countries, those with natural geographic advantages and which applied stringent control measures, in which actual mortality was lower than that expected, the spreading virus (indirectly) turning the curve negative because the policies enforced had the side-effect of effectively eliminating seasonal influenza and its associated deaths.

The official COVID-19 death toll: 5,476,854 on Wednesday 5 January 2022, 13:42 GMT.            

Caparison

Caparison (pronounced kuh-par-uh-suhn)

(1) A decorative covering for a horse or for the tack or harness of a horse or other animal; trappings (historically applied especially to warhorses).

(2) Rich and sumptuous clothing, ornaments or equipment.

(3) To cover with a caparison (usually in ceremonial military use).

(4) Richly to dress; to deck out.

1585–1595: From the Middle French caparasson (“cloth spread over a saddle” and “personal dress and ornaments”) (which survives in Modern French as caparaçon), from the Old Spanish caparazón (saddlecloth (and akin to capacape)) which may have been from the Old Occitan capairon or perhaps from the augmentative of the Old Provençal caparasso (a mantle with a hood), or the Medieval Latin caparo (a type of cape worn by women (literally "chaperon")).  Caparisoned (the past-participle adjective developed from the verb) dates from circa 1600 and was from the French caparaçonner, from caparaçon.  Even among those who contest the etymology, none appear to deny a link with cape which was from the Middle French cap, from the Occitan cap, from the Latin caput (head).  A doublet of caput, chef and chief (and more distantly of head), as used to describe a "sleeveless cloak, circular covering for the shoulders" which came in the sixteenth century to be regarded as “the Spanish style, it was from the French cape, from the Spanish capa, from the Late Latin cappa (hooded cloak).  In the Late Old English there was capa & cæppe (cloak with a hood) which came directly from the Latin.  Caparison is a noun & verb, caparisoning is a verb, caparisoned is an adjective and although it’s non-standard, caparisonistic would seem useful; the noun plural is caparisons.

Depiction of caparisoned horses in Medieval jousting tournament (left), an example of the use of metal armor with plate croupiere, criniere, and peytral, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna, Austria (centre) and a caparisoned goat (a military mascot) at the proclamation of King Charles III (right).

Caparisons are now usually decorative and in military use are often decorated with regimental standards or other unit markings.  Their origin however was purely functional and dates from Antiquity as coverings for horses (and, east of Suez, elephants too) to afford the beasts come protection for arrows, bladed weapons etc.  Of course, any sort of layered protection adds weight so whether it’s a truck, a warship or a horse, there are trade-offs, the addition of the protection meaning there’s a reduction in speed, carrying capacity or other measures of performance so the designs varied according to intended purpose, an animal intended for use in knee-to-knee charges fitted with a lighter caparison.  Metal and heavy leather caparisons were not unknown but were quite a burden so most were crafted from a variety of fabrics.  Surprisingly, the material used could be remarkably effective and while not able always to resist penetration, often deflected arrows and blows from swords and lances of delivered at less than an optional angle or very short-range.

A spring & fall (autumn) weatherproof horsecloth.

In modern equestrian management, the functional caparison remains an essential item of equipment and what are usually called horsecloths or horse rugs are sold in a variety of weights (tied to the seasons, the winter versions being heavier than those intended for use in the spring or fall (autumn)) and, depending on need, can be waterproof.  They’re helpful too as protection from wind and even biting insects.

Caparisoned: Royal group photograph (from an originally un-published negative used to control for light and angles), one of a session taken to mark the coronation of George VI (1895-1952; King of the UK 1936-1952).

By extension, caparison as both a noun & verb can be used of the rich, sumptuous or elaborately embellished clothing or regalia worn by people or draped over objects.   For the modern coronation ceremonies concocted by the British monarchy, it had become the practice to dress the family in the full panoply of regalia and this is something Charles III has apparently indicated he’d like to tone down but he’s likely to encounter some resistance from the courtiers who love dressing-up like the Spice Girls and the palace’s media operation which understands the appeal of spectacle, as does the British Army.  Appalled at the inter-war suggestion that the mechanisation of the army would mean mo more horses would be required, the politician Duff Cooper (1890-1954) replied "There will always be a place in the British Army for a well-bred horse".  At the upcoming coronation, we may expect many caparisoned people, horses and goats, mostly well-bred.

Waterfall

Waterfall (pronounced waw-ter-fawl or wot-er-fawl)

(1) A steep fall or flow of water in a watercourse from a height, as over a precipice; a cascade of falling water where there is a vertical or almost vertical step in a river.

(2) A hair-style using long, loose “waves”.

(3) As “waterfall development”, “waterfall management” and “the waterfall model”, descriptions of product research & development (R&D) (especially in tech) including sequential stages, from conception and design through testing and implementation, hopefully to result in a final delivered product.

(4) Figuratively, any waterfall-like outpouring of liquid, smoke etc.

(5) In slang (originally US but now widespread), the action of drinking from a vessel without touching it with the lips (a sanitary precaution with shared vessels).

(5) In the smoking of weed, a particular design of bong.

Pre 1000: From the Middle English waterfal & waterfalle, from the Old English wæterġefeall (waterfall) and cognate with the Old Norse vatnfall, the West Frisian wetterfal (waterfall), the Dutch waterval (waterfall), the German Wasserfall (waterfall) and the Swedish vattenfall (waterfall).  The colloquial use to describe (1) a necktie, (2) a cravat, (3) a chignon (in hair-styling, a low bun or knot positioned at or close to the nape of the neck) or (4) a beard are now effectively extinct.  Waterfall’s synonyms in general use (though hydrologists are more precise) include cascade, cataract, sault (old Canadian slang more often used of river rapids) and the clipping falls.  Waterfall is a noun verb & adjective and waterfalling & waterfalled are verbs; the noun plural is waterfalls.

The construct was water + fall and the Modern English spelling appears to have been a re-formation from around the turn of the sixteenth century.  The noun “water” was from the Old English wæter (water), from the Proto-West Germanic watar, from the Proto-Germanic watōr (water), from the primitive Indo-European wódr̥ (water).  The verb “water” was from the Middle English wateren, from the Old English wæterian, from the Proto-Germanic watrōną & watrijaną, from the Proto-Germanic watōr (water), from the primitive Indo-European wódr̥ (water).  The noun “fall” was from the Middle English fal, fall & falle, from the Old English feall & ġefeall (a falling, fall) and the Old English fealle (trap, snare), from the Proto-Germanic fallą & fallaz (a fall, trap).  It was cognate with the Dutch val, the German Fall (fall) & Falle (trap, snare), the Danish fald, the Swedish fall and the Icelandic fall.  The verb “fall” was from the Middle English fallen, from the Old English feallan (to fall, fail, decay, die, attack), from the Proto-West Germanic fallan (to fall), from the Proto-Germanic fallaną (to fall).  It was cognate with the West Frisian falle (to fall), the Low German fallen (to fall), the Dutch vallen (to fall), the German fallen (to fall), the Danish falde (to fall), the Norwegian Bokmål falle (to fall), the Norwegian Nynorsk falla (to fall), the Icelandic falla (to fall), the Albanian fal (forgive, pray, salute, greet) and the Lithuanian pùlti (to attack, rush).

Two views of Niagara Falls:  Between June-November 1969 (left), a temporary dam was built to stem the usual flow so geological studies could be conducted to ascertain the condition of the rocks and assess the extent of erosion.  After rectification work was carried out, the temporary structure was dynamited, an event promoted as a tourist attraction.  In 1885 (right), the falls underwent one of its occasional freezes.  Usually, these are what hydrologists call "partial freezes" (of late there have been a few: 2014, 2017 & 2019), the only (almost) "total freeze" recorded in 1848 although that was induced by the accumulation of ice on Lake Erie which caused a "natural dam" to form, stopping the flow of water to the Niagara River.  It was this rather than a "total freeze" of the falls which caused the phenomenon.

Lindsay Lohan with waterfall, Guanacaste Gold Coast, Costa Rica, January 2016.

For most of us, we know a waterfall when we see one: it’s a point in a waterway (usually a river) where the water falls over a steep drop that is close to literally vertical.  However, among hydrologists, there’s no agreed definition about the margins such as when something ceases to rapids and becomes a waterfall, some insisting that what lay-people casually call “waterfalls” are really “cataracts” or “cascades”.  To most of us there to admire the view, it’s a tiresome technical squabble among specialists but among themselves they seem happy for the debate to continue and some have even suggested precise metrics which can be mapped onto any formation.

Wasserfall (Waterfall), the embryonic SAM

Wasserfall (project Waterfall) was an early SAM (surface to air missile) developed by the Nazi armaments industry.  Although never used, it was highly influential in the post-war years.  In his memoirs (Inside the Third Reich (1969)), Albert Speer (1905–1981; Nazi court architect 1934-1942; Nazi minister of armaments and war production 1942-1945) discussed both the weapons systems with which he as minister was usually in some way connected and the political in-fighting and inter-service rivalries which hampered their development.  Although his writings are not wholly reliable (there was much he choose not to say on his contribution to anti-Jewish measures and his knowledge of the holocaust), on industrial and technical matters historians regard his account as substantially accurate (if incomplete).  Interestingly, after reading in Spandau prison a smuggled copy of the memoir (Ten Years and Twenty Days (1958)) of Karl Dönitz (1891–1980; as Grand Admiral head of the German Navy 1943-1945, German head of state 1945) who had been a fellow prisoner for the first decade of Speer’s twenty-year sentence, without any sense of irony, he remarked in his (extensively edited) prison journal (Spandau: The Secret Diaries (1975)):

“Where he discusses military operations and the questions of armaments, the book is interesting and probably also reliable.  His political attitude, on the other hand, his relationship to Hitler, his childish faith in National Socialism – all that he either wraps in silence or spins a veil of sailor’s yarns.  This is the book of a man without insight.”

Speer re-invented himself by wrapping in veils of silence anything too unpleasant to admit and spun plenty of veils so appealing that for decades there were many who, for various reasons, draped them over his past.  He wasn’t a man without insight but compared with Dönitz, he had much more guilt to conceal and thus more need of selective silence & spin.

Speer regarded the regime’s failure to devote the necessary resources to the Wasserfall project as one of Adolf Hitler's (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945)  many strategic blunders which, by 1943, had made defeat inevitable.  Having delayed development of the revolutionary Messerschmitt Me 262 jet fighter (deployed at scale mass it would have been a devastating weapon against the Allied bomber fleets then laying waste to German cities and industry), Hitler took the decision to afford the highest priority to the A4 (better known as the V2) rocket to retaliate against English cities; psychologically, Hitler always wanted to be on the offensive and would later appal the experts by demanding the Me 262 be re-designed as a fast, light bomber.  As a delivery system the V2 was a decade ahead of its time and there was then no defense against the thing but it was a hugely expensive and resource-intensive way to deliver an explosive load under a tonne.  As Speer noted, even if it became possible to produce and fire the projected 900 a month, that would mean a daily bomb-load of some 24 tonnes falling on England and that at a time when the Allied bomber groups were on average dropping some 3000 tonnes a day on German targets.  Hitler wasn’t wrong in predicting the use of the V2 against civilian targets would have an effect well beyond the measure of the tonnage delivered and the historians who claimed the disruption to the allied war effort caused by the V1 (an early cruise missile) & V2 was “negligible” were simply wrong but to have been an effective strategic weapon, at least hundreds of V2s a day would need to have found their targets.

Captured blueprints and photographs from the Wasserfall project's development. 

Speer admitted he “…not only went along with this decision on Hitler's part but also supported it. That was probably one of my most serious mistakes.  We would have done much better to focus our efforts on manufacturing a ground-to-air defensive rocket.  It had already been developed in 1942, under the code name Wasserfall (Waterfall), to such a point that mass production would soon have been possible, had we utilized the talents of those technicians and scientists busy with [the V2] under Wernher von Braun (1912–1977).”

He added that von Braun’s team was employed to develop weapons “…for the army, whereas air defense was a matter for the air force.  Given the conflict of interests and the fierce ambitions of the army and the air force, the army would never have allowed its rival to take over the installations it had built up…”  The difference in resource allocation was stark, more than ten times the number of technical staff working on the V2 compared to Waterfall and other anti-aircraft rocket projects (such as the small Taifun (Typhoon)).  The attraction of the anti-aircraft rockets was obvious as Speer noted: “Waterfall was capable of carrying approximately six hundred and sixty pounds of explosives along a directional beam up to an altitude of fifty thousand feet and hit enemy bombers with great accuracy.  It was not affected by day or night, by clouds, cold, or fog. Since we were later able to turn out nine hundred of the offensive big rockets monthly, we could surely have produced several thousand of these smaller and less expensive rockets per month. To this day I think that this rocket, in conjunction with the jet fighters, would have beaten back the Western Allies' air offensive against our industry from the spring of 1944 on.  Instead, gigantic effort and expense went into developing and manufacturing long-range rockets which proved to be, when they were at last ready for use in the autumn of 1944, an almost total failure [a comment which, combined with Allied propaganda and disinformation, influenced for decades many post-war historians].  Our most expensive project was also our most foolish one. Those rockets, which were our pride and for a time my favorite armaments project, proved to be nothing but a mistaken investment. On top of that, they were one of the reasons we lost the defensive war in the air.”

Whether a mass-produced Waterfall would have been an effective weapon against the mass-bomber formations has divided analysts.  While the technology to produce a reliable directional mechanism had been mastered, what Germany never possessed was a proximity fuse which would have enabled the explosive charge to be triggered when a bomber was within range; instead the devices relied on impact or pre-set detonators.  Presumably, had other projects been suspended and the resources re-directed to Waterfall, mass production may have been possible and even if only partially successful, to disrupt a bombing offensive it was necessary only to inflict an ongoing 5-10% loss rate to make the campaign unsustainable.  Given the inevitable counter-measures, even that would likely have proved challenging but economic reality meant Waterfall probably did offer a more attractive path than the spectacular V2 and given the success in related fields, it was not impossible that had priority been granted, proximity fuses and other technical improvements may rapidly have appeared.  As it was, Waterfall (like Typhoon, Me 262, V2 and an extraordinary range of other intriguing projects) was the subject of a post-war race between the Russians, the Americans and the British, all anxious to gather up the plans, prototypes, and personnel of what were clearly the next generation of weapons.  As a proof of concept exercise Waterfall was convincing and within years SAMs were a vital component of defensive systems in most militaries.

The waterfall motif: Grill on the 1975 Imperial LeBaron Crown Coupe (left) and the Liebian International Building in China (right).

In design, "waterfall" can be a motif such as used for the grill on the 1975 Imperial LeBaron Crown Coupe.  It can also be literal and architects have many times integrated water-flows as an external design element but at 108 metres (354 feet) high, the one on the façade of the Liebian International Building in south-west China is easily the world’s tallest.  An eye-catching sight, the waterfall isn't run all that often (which must disappoint influencers who turn up with cameras ready) because it’s said to cost some 900 yuan (US$125) per hour just to pump the water to the top and, with the downturn in the property market, the building's revenues have fallen short of expectation.  When completed and displayed in 2016, the waterfall attracted some criticism on environmental grounds, water shortages far from unknown in China although the builders (Ludi Industry Group) pointed out the signature feature uses storm-water runoff, rainwater and groundwater, all stored in vast underground tanks.  It may for a while be the last example of exuberance to show up among China's skyscrapers, Xi Jinping (b 1953; general secretary of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) and paramount leader of the People's Republic of China (PRC) since 2013) in 2014 calling for an end to what he called "weird architecture".  Mr Xi thinks buildings should be "suitable, economic, green and pleasing to the eye" rather than "oversized, xenocentric & weird".  Those skilled at reading between the CCP's lines decided the president had called the architects "formalists".  They would have taken note.

On TikTok, a small but active community of those who find waterfalls mesmerizing post video clips.

Comet

Comet (pronounced kom-it)

(1) In astronomy, a celestial body moving about the sun, usually in a highly eccentric orbit, most thought to consist of a solid frozen nucleus, part of which vaporizes on approaching the heat from Sun (or other star) to form a gaseous, luminous coma (the envelope of dust and gas, the most dramatic part of which is the long, luminous tail which streams away from the sun (under the influence of solar winds).

(2) In astronomy, a celestial phenomenon with the appearance of such a body.

(3) Any of several species of hummingbird found in the Andes.

(4) In slang, as “vomit comet”, a reduced-gravity aircraft which, by flying in a parabolic flight path, briefly emulates a close to weightless environment.  Used to train astronauts or conduct research, the slang derived from the nausea some experience.

(5) In figurative use (often applied retrospectively and with a modifier such as “blazing comet”), someone (or, less commonly, something) who appears suddenly in the public eye, makes a significant impact and then quickly fades from view, their fleeting moment of brilliance a brief but spectacular event.

1150–1200: From the Middle English comete, partly from the Old English comēta and partly from the Anglo-French & Old French comete (which in Modern French persists as comète), all from the Latin comētēs & comēta, from the Ancient Greek κομήτης (komḗtēs) (wearing long hair; ling-haired), the construct being komē-, a variant stem of komân (to let one's hair grow), from κόμη (kómē) (hair) + -tēs (the agent suffix).  The Greek was a shortened form of ἀστὴρ κομήτης (astēr komētēs (longhaired star)), a reference to a comet’s streaming tail.  The descendants in other languages include the Malay komet, the Urdu کومٹ (komeṭ) and the Welsh comed.  Comet, cometlessness, cometography, cometographer, cometology & cometarium are nouns, cometless, cometic, cometical, cometocentric, cometary, cometographical & cometlike (also as comet-like) are adjectives, cometesimal is a noun & adjective; the noun plural is comets.

Comets orbit the Sun along an elongated path and when not near the heat, the body consists solely of its nucleus, thought to be almost always a solid core of frozen water, frozen gases, and dust.  When near the sun, the nucleus heats, eventually to boil and thus release the gaseous and luminous coma (the envelope of dust and gas), the most dramatic part of which is the long, luminous tail which streams away from the sun (under the influence of solar winds).  The path of a comet can be in the shape of an ellipse or a hyperbola; if a hyperbolic path, it enters the solar system once and then leaves forever while if it follows an ellipse, it remains in orbit around the sun.  Astronomer divide comets into (1) “short period” (those with orbital periods of less than 200 years and coming from the Kuiper belt) and (2) “long-period” (those with an orbital period greater than 200 years and coming from the Oort cloud).

Before the development of modern techniques, comets were visible only when near the sun so their appearance was sudden and, until early astronomers were able to calculate the paths of those which re-appeared, unexpected.  Superstition stepped in where science didn’t exist and comets were in many cultures regarded as omens or harbingers of doom, famine, ruin, pestilence and the overthrow of kingdoms or empires.  It was the English astronomer, mathematician and physicist Edmond Halley (1656–1742; Astronomer Royal 1720-1742) who in 1682 published the calculations which proved many comets were periodic and thus their appearance could be predicted.  Halley's Comet, named in his honor, remains the only known short-period comet consistently visible from Earth with the naked eye and remains the world’s most famous; it last appeared in 1986 and will next visit our skies in 2061.

Comet wine: Non-vintage Alois Lageder Natsch4 Vigneti Delle Dolomiti.

Halley’s findings put an end to (most) of the superstition surrounding comets but commerce still took advantage of their presence.  A comet with a famously vivid tail appeared in 1811 and in that year, Europe enjoyed a remarkably pleasant autumn (fall) which was most conducive to agriculture and became associated with the abundant and superior yield of the continental vineyards.  For that reason, the vintage was called the “comet wine” and the term became a feature in marketing the product which emerged from any year in which notable comets were seen, a superior quality alleged (and thus a premium price).  Wine buffs say any relationship between the quality of a vintage and the travel of celestial bodies is entirely coincidental.

Red Comet: The Short Life and Blazing Art of Sylvia Plath (2021) by Dr Heather Clark (b 1974).

One of things about the feminist cult which is now the construct of Sylvia Path (1932-1963) is that her mistreatment at the hands of her husband Ted Hughes (1930–1998; Poet Laureate 1984-2008) tends to obscure her work which many quite familiar with the story of her brief life will barely have read and that’s perhaps predictable, certainly for those for whom the lure of tales of tragic woman and brutish men is a siren.  As human tragedies go, her story is compelling: A precocious talent, the death of the father to whom she was devoted when only eight, the suicide attempt while a student and the burning ambition to write and be published.  Almost as soon as she met Ted Hughes she knew he was “my black marauder” and their affair was one of intense physicality as well as a devotion to their art, something which might have endured during their marriage (which produced two children) had Hughes not proved so unfaithful and neglectful.  In 1963, as an abandoned solo mother in a freezing flat during what entered history as London’s coldest winter of the century, she took her own life while her two babies slept nearby, becoming a symbol onto which people would map whatever most suited their purposes: the troubled genius, the visionary writer, a feminist pioneer and, overwhelmingly, a martyr, a victim of a man.  To his dying day, feminists would stalk literary events just to tell Hughes he had “Sylvia’s blood on his hands”.

So the story is well known and in the years since her death there have been a number of biographies, critical studies, collections of letters, academic conferences; given that, it’s seemed by the 2020s unlikely there was much more to say about one whose adult life spanned not even two decades.  For that reason the 1000-odd densely printed pages of Dr Heather Clark’s Red Comet: The Short Life and Blazing Art of Sylvia Plath was a revelation because, as the author pointed out, her life “has been subsumed by her afterlife” and what was needed was a volume which focused on what she wrote and why that output means she should be set free from the “cultural baggage of the past 50 years” and shown as “one of the most important American writers of the twentieth century.”

Sylvia Plath in Paris, 1956.

Red Comet is thus far this century’s outstanding biography and a feminist perspective is not required to recognize that when reading her last poems (written in obvious rage but sustaining a controlled tension few have matched) that she was a profoundly disturbed woman.  Most clinicians who have commented seem now to agree her depression of long-standing had descended to something psychotic by the time of her suicide, a progression she seems to have acknowledged, writing to one correspondent that she was composing poetry “on the edge of madness”.  This is though a biography written by a professional literary critic so it does not construct Plath as tale of tragedy and victimhood as one might if telling the story of some troubled celebrity.  Instead, the life is allowed to unfold in a way which shows how it underpins her development as a writer, the events and other glimpses of the person interpolated into the progress of a text through drafts and revisions, each word polished as the poet progresses to what gets sent to the publisher.  Red Comet is not a book for those interested in how much blame Ted Hughes should bear for his wife killing herself and in that matter it’s unlikely to change many opinions but as a study of the art of Sylvia Plath, it’s outstanding.  Unlike many figurative uses of "comet", Plath continues to blaze her trail. 

Pre-production de Havilland Comet (DH 106) with the original, square windows, England, 1949 (left) and Comet 4 (Registration G-APDN) in BOAC (British Overseas Airways Corporation (1939-1974 which in 1974 was merged with BEA (British European Airways) and others to later become BA (British Airways)) livery, Tokyo (Haneda International (HND / RJTT)), Japan October 1960.

The term hoodoo is often attached to objects thought jinxed.  When the de Havilland Comet (DH 106; the first commercial jet airliner), within a year of its first flight in 1949, began to suffer a number of catastrophic in-flight accidents, newspapers wrote of the “Comet hoodoo”, something encouraged because, in the pre “black-box” era, analysis of aviation incidents was a less exact science than now and for some time the crashes appeared inexplicable.  It was only when extensive testing revealed the reason for the structural failures could be traced to stresses in the airframe induced aspects of the design that the hoodoo was understood to be the operation of physics.  Other manufacturers noted the findings and changed their designs, Boeing's engineers acknowledging the debt they owed to de Havilland because it was the investigation of the Comet's early problems which produced the solutions which helped the Boeing 707 (1957) and its many successors to be the successful workhorses they became.  As a footnote, by the time the Comet 4 was released in 1958 the problems had been solved but commercially, the project was doomed and reputational damage done.  Between 1949-1964, barely more than 100 were sold although many did provide reliable service until 1981 and the airframe proved adaptable, dozens of military variants produced, the most notable being the Hawker Siddeley Nimrod, a maritime patrol version which was in service with the Royal Air Force (RAF) until 2011.

It’s because of the lessons learned from the Comet hoodoo that the apertures of airliner windows have rounded edges, the traditional four-cornered openings creating four weak spots prone to failure under stress.  In the early 1950s there was much optimism about the Comet and had it been successful, it could have given the UK’s commercial aviation industry a lead in a sector which rapidly would expand in the post war years.  One who didn’t express much faith in his country’s capacity to succeed in the field was the politician Duff Cooper (1890–1954) who, shortly before taking up his appointment as the UK’s ambassador to France, was flying on an Avro York (a transport and civil adaptation of the Lancaster heavy bomber) and he noted in his diary: “I think the designer of the York has discovered the shape of an armchair in which it is quite impossible to be comfortable, if this is typical of the civil transport plane in which were are to compete against the US, we are already beaten.”  As Lindsay Lohan’s smiles indicate, as least on private jets, the seats are now comfortable.

Not quite an Edsel, not yet a Mercury: The 1960 Comet; it was an era of imaginative (other use different adjectives) styling (and at this time they were still "stylists" and not "designers").

The Mercury Comet, built in four generations between 1960-1969 and another between 1971-1977, had a most unusual beginning.  The Ford Motor Company (“FoMoCo”, Mercury’s parent corporation) had in the mid 1950s studied the five-tier (Chevrolet, Pontiac, Oldsmobile, Buick, Cadillac) branding used by General Motors (GM) and decided it too would create a five divisional structure (which by 1955 Chrysler had also matched).  The GM model dated from the 1920s and was called the “ladder” (GM at times had more than five rungs) and the idea was each step on the later would take a buyer into a higher price (and at least theoretically more profitable) range of models.  There was a time when this approach made sense but even in the 1950s when Ford embarked on their restructure it was beginning to fragment, the implications of which would become apparent over the decades.  Thus Ford ended up (firefly) with five divisions: Ford, Mercury, Edsel, Lincoln and Continental.  That didn’t last long and Continental was the first to go, followed soon by the still infamous Edsel and the corporation even flirted with the idea of shuttering Lincoln.

1963 Mercury Comet S-22 Convertible.

The original plan had been for the Comet to be the “small Edsel” but by the time the release date drew close, the decision had been taken to terminate the Edsel brand so the Q&D (quick & dirty) solution was to sell the car through the Lincoln-Mercury dealer network, an expedient which lasted for the 1960 & 1961 model years before the Comet was integrated into the Mercury range and badged appropriately.  The early Comets were built on the Falcon platform (“compact” in contemporary US terms) but when the 1966 range was released, the cars became “intermediates” (ie the size between the “compact” and “full-size” platforms) but the Comet name was withdrawn from use after 1969.  It was in 1971 revived for Mercury’s companion to the Maverick, Ford’s replacement for the compact Falcon which slotted above the Pinto which was in a domestic class so compact the industry coined the class-designation “sub compact”.  Cheap to produce and essentially “disposable”, the Maverick and Comet proved so popular they continued in production for a season even after their nominal replacements were in showrooms.

1967 Mercury Comet Cyclone "R Code", one of 60 built that year with the 427 cubic inch (7.0 litre) FE side-oiler V8 and one of the 19 with a four-speed manual transmission.

The Mercury Comet has never attracted great interest from collectors because few were built with the more robust or exotic drive-trains found more frequently in both the competition from GM & Chrysler and the companion versions from Ford.  The mid-range performance package for the general market was the Comet Cyclone, introduced in 1964 to replace the Comet’s earlier S-22 option; neither were big sellers but they were not expensive to produce and remained profitable parts of the Mercury range.  In 1968, during the peak of the muscle car era, Mercury sought to promote the line, dropping the Comet name and promoting the machines as the “Cyclone”, now with quite potent engines although the emphasis clearly was drag racing rather than turning corners; the high performance package was now called the “Cyclone Spoiler”.  For the NASCAR circuits however, there was in 1969 the Cyclone Spoiler II, one of the so-called “aero cars”, the better known of which were the much more spectacular, be-winged Dodge Daytona (1969) and Plymouth Superbird (1970).  Chrysler’s cars looked radical to achieve what they did but the modifications which created the Mercury Cyclone Spoiler II and Ford Torino Talladega were so subtle as to be barely noticeable, the most effective being the increased slope on the lengthened nose, the flush grill and some changes which had the effect of lowering both the centre of gravity and the body.  The Ford and Mercury might have been a less spectacular sight than the Dodge or Plymouth but on the tracks the seeming slight tweaks did the job and both were among the fastest and most successful of their brief era.

1969 Mercury Cyclone Spoiler II (slab-sided but slippery, left), 1970 Mercury Cyclone Spoiler (sleek but less aerodynamic than its predecessor, centre) and the aborted 1970 Mercury Cyclone Spoiler II (handicapped out of contention by NASCAR, right).   

In 1970, just how aerodynamic was the 1969 Cyclone Spoiler was proved when the racing teams tried the new model which, although it looked sleek, was not as aerodynamically efficient and noticeably slower.  That might seem something of an own goal but Ford were blindsided by NASCAR’s decision to render the low-volume “aero cars” uncompetitive by restricting them to the use of 305 cubic inch (5.0 litre) engines while the conventional bodies were permitted to use the full 430 (7.0).  Thus the aerodynamic modifications planned for the 1970 Torino and Cyclone never entered production.  Of the two prototype Cyclone Spoiler IIs built, one survives revealing a nose which was in its own way as radical as those earlier seen on the Plymouth and Dodge.  In the collector market, the aero cars are much sought but the Cyclones are the least valued which may seem strange because they were on the circuits among the most successful of the era.  Market analysts attribute this to (1) the Cyclone Spoiler II (and Torino Talladega) being visually much less eye-catching than the wild-looking pair from Chrysler and (2) the Cyclone Spoiler II being sold only with a modest 351 cubic inch (5.8 litre) engine whereas the Fords ran 428s (7.0) and the Chryslers 440 (7.2) & 426 (6.9) units, the latter a version of the engine actually used in the race cars.

The highly qualified Kate Upton (b 1992) was in 2014 featured in a Sports Illustrated session filmed in a "vomit comet" (a modified Boeing 727 with a padded interior).