Heigh ho, heigh ho,
It’s off to work we go.
– Song from Snow White
How did the Seven Dwarfs get into things this week? Well, I was reading The Invention of Clouds, a book whose existence I stumbled across when trying to find out whether clouds had seasonally distinctive appearances, in order to justify my belief that a given cloudscape was a harbinger of spring which, in turn, would justify the associated photographically induced departure delay. I was not entirely successful in this quest, which is often the case when searching for self-justification, but I got a new book out of it, so there’s that.
In 1802 Luke Howard — a Quaker, chemist/pharmacist, and amateur meteorologist — gave a lecture at a meeting of the Askesian Society: listening to natural science lectures being something people did for entertainment and edification before the invention of any form of broadcasting. It’s an interesting story: Howard managed to impose structure on an exceedingly messy reality. Somehow he saw the underlying patterns in, or forms of, clouds.
At the heart of Luke Howard’s essay On the Modifications of Clouds lay the penetrating — and Lamarckian — insight that clouds have many individual shapes but few basic forms. – The Invention of Clouds, ch. 7, page 120
Howard proposed seven types of clouds:
- three basic forms:
- cirrus
- cumulus
- stratus
- two intermediate forms:
- cirro-cumulus
- cirro-stratus
- two compound forms:
- cumulo-stratus
- cumulo-cirro-stratus (aka nimbus)
He gave them Latin names, because since the time of Linnaeus that’s what classifiers had been doing.
So much had been named and classified in the last fifty years, so much had been Latinized for study or stuffing, from the greatest of the animals, plants and fishes, all the way down to the microbes, minerals and the first discoveries among the chemical elements. – Same book of course, page 124
His idea was to offer a standard naming convention that could be used by weather-observers and scientists and artists and travellers and sky-watchers the world over.
Well. That would never do.
Some people objected to the unfamiliar Latin-ness of the names, wanting local names in their own vernacular. As one example, Thomas Forster suggested basically the same seven categories but with solid English names (kind of):
- Curl-cloud
- Stacken-cloud
- Fall-cloud
- Sonder cloud
- Wane-cloud
- Twain-cloud
- Rain cloud
Some people objected to Howard’s categories, wanting more/different. As one example, John Bostock proposed nine types of clouds:
- Arc
- Linear arc
- Mottled arc
- Wreathed arc
- Feathered arc
- Shaded clouds
- Piled/rolling clouds
- Tufts
- Flocks
Some people did both. As one example, Lamarck proposed an initial tranche of five cloud types in French, with presumably many more to follow when these caught on:
- En forme de voile – veiled/hazy clouds
- Attroupés – massed clouds
- Pommelés – dappled clouds
- En balayeurs – broomlike/sweeping clouds
- Groupés – grouped clouds
But they did not catch on: not Lamarck’s names that sound so elegant to Anglophone ears, and not any of the others. By the end of the 1800s, folks had settled on 10 principal cloud types, sorted by altitude, but based on Luke Howard’s breakthrough insight and using his names.
But, you might ask, how do the Seven Dwarfs fit into this? Well, before I got to the part about the standard 10 types, I thought it would be fun to name the clouds using Dwarf names (Bashful, Doc, Dopey, Grumpy, Happy, Sleepy, Sneezy) as inspiration, while respecting Luke Howard’s original descriptions. Something like this, maybe:
- Streaky: Cirrus – Parallel or diverging fibres, extensible in any or all directions
- Lumpy: Cumulus – Convex or conical heaps, increasing upward from a horizontal base
- Phyllo-Pastry-y: Stratus – A widely extended, continuous, horizontal sheet
- Cuddly: Cirro-cumulus – Small, well-defined roundish masses, in close horizontal arrangement or contact
- Feathery: Cirro-stratus – Horizontal or slightly inclined masses attenuated towards a part or the whole of their circumference
- Flumpy: Cumulo-stratus – The Cirro-stratus blended with the Cumulus
- Stormy: Cumulo-cirro-stratus, aka Nimbus; a cloud or system of clouds from which rain is falling.
Yeah, no. Even given the classification as the starting point, it’s harder than it looks to find meaningful and memorable names, and that’s with just seven. Ten would be out of the question. Mr. Howard, I salute you, both for the classification and for standing your ground on the names.
I like your categories. The trouble with Latin-based terms is that they become opaque when Latin is no longer the lingua franca, even of academe. A movement that seems not to have caught on is the proposal that medical terms be anglicized or at least made accessible by those who do not know Latin. The present system gives a false aura of arcane and esoteric knowledge, which may be convenient for doctors trying to hide their own ignorance but sets an unfair barrier for the patient and family who have much to contribute to the discussion. This latter issue looms very large to me just now. These are life-altering issues but I won’t jump on that hobbyhorse today. But cloud-watching, too, can be life-altering and a better naming system would help everyone.
Laurna – I think it was the opacity of the Latin for regular folks that caused earlier naysayers to propose alternatives: that and maybe the hope of becoming famous as the cloud-namer. The benefit, of course, is that for those who do know what the terms mean, they are standardized internationally. As for medical jargon, maybe we could start with 50 or 100 terms where little is added by being highly technical. Does using contusion for bruise, and edema for swelling, add much value or is it just a barrier to laypeople? I suspect there are times, though, when the precision of a medical term should not be sacrificed in the interests of general accessibility. We need a medical professional to weigh in!
Wow!
I have never moved on to study the other approaches to cloud nomenclature. I didn’t know they existed.
The Air Command Weather Manual did a masterful job of teaching us the cloud types (in Howard’s Latin), the genesis of the clouds in frontal systems and convective conditions, and the eventual secondary effects of precipitation, icing, and turbulence.
I have to admit that I struggle now, in retirement, to recall whether the fish-skin effect is alto-cumulus-castellanus or some other, but on your way west I would recommend a deep study of the “mountain wave” with its rotor and lenticular clouds. It’s a fascinating formation in the lee of the mountain tops that spells disaster for flyers unfamiliar.
Thanks for the journey back to studies long dormant.
Vince – 🙂 I suspect you have forgotten more about clouds than I now know. Google thinks the mackerel sky is cirrocumulus or altocumulus, but what does it know? I will indeed keep an eye open for distinctive clouds in mountainous regions. Thanks!
I love the various cloud formations I can see from my 8th floor condo window.
Tom
Tom – Medium- and high-rises certainly offer great views!
Once upon a time, I invited a local meteorologist to talk to our “couples’ club” about weather patterns in the Okanagan. I expected to get slides of these cloud types you (and Howard) defined, with there implication for what to expect tomorrow morning, you know… Instead we got satellite views of weather systems circling around the North Pacific Ocean. Well, at least now I understand why rain usually comes to us from the south, and dry air tends to come from the north.
Jim T – I think the macro view is easier (and more reliable!) than “what weather tomorrow will bring”. Weather forecasters must be old before their time. But I’m surprised that you didn’t get something from more than one level: how overall weather patterns affect your area, how to “predict” or understand your local weather, and maybe some funny/extreme weather stories. That would catch more people, you’d think.