Potential Novelty? That is new one for me. So far haven’t found much on internet about it. Love how you bring complexity and emergence into your writing. Love the photos.
Ok, got potential novelty. Much less esoteric science wise but more poetically useful, at least IMO. Now the poem is even more clear and I’ll leave now in my neutrino cloud.
I'm glad you enjoyed this, Jim. I found "perpetual novelty" in the book "Complexity, The Emerging Science at the Edge of Order and Chaos" by M. Mitchell Waldrop, his idea that complex adaptive systems are always unfolding, in transition, and can never come to a rest or equilibrium, as that would mean it was a "dead" system. Thus he says "Complex adaptive systems are characterized by perpetual novelty." I'm sure he wasn't thinking of fog and mist when he wrote this (ha!) but I "adapted" the phrase for my purpose.
Actually, looking back at the book, Waldrop was commenting and expanding on John Holland's presentation of "The Global Economy as an Adaptive Process" in which he spoke of "perpetual novelty." His point was that these kinds of systems are found everywhere--cultural and social systems as well as science.
Up here in the Pacific Northwest, fog is a very familiar friend. It usually rolls in and blankets the hills and city in the early morning hours during autumn and winter. What I love about that winter fog is how crisp it is and the blues and purples of early morning moonlight or the luminous light that carves through the blur of the fog and is lit with the reds, yellows, and greens of traffic lights. As I drive to work or take the train, I also often see the heavy fog lying over the Willamette River as it slowly slithers and weaves through the neighborhoods, alleyways, and our many Doug firs and rose bushes.
We live three fields away from a small river that sits in a wide valley. We are elevated about ten metres. Many mornings a low mist hugs the furthest field and all we can see is oak trees extending upwards with the sun rising above the far hills. I'm not tired of seeing it.
Potential Novelty? That is new one for me. So far haven’t found much on internet about it. Love how you bring complexity and emergence into your writing. Love the photos.
Good stuff, thank you for writing.
Ok, got potential novelty. Much less esoteric science wise but more poetically useful, at least IMO. Now the poem is even more clear and I’ll leave now in my neutrino cloud.
"Neutrino cloud"--love it!
I'm glad you enjoyed this, Jim. I found "perpetual novelty" in the book "Complexity, The Emerging Science at the Edge of Order and Chaos" by M. Mitchell Waldrop, his idea that complex adaptive systems are always unfolding, in transition, and can never come to a rest or equilibrium, as that would mean it was a "dead" system. Thus he says "Complex adaptive systems are characterized by perpetual novelty." I'm sure he wasn't thinking of fog and mist when he wrote this (ha!) but I "adapted" the phrase for my purpose.
Actually, looking back at the book, Waldrop was commenting and expanding on John Holland's presentation of "The Global Economy as an Adaptive Process" in which he spoke of "perpetual novelty." His point was that these kinds of systems are found everywhere--cultural and social systems as well as science.
Beautiful
Thank you, Julie, and for letting me know too!
Beautiful photos, Deborah.
Up here in the Pacific Northwest, fog is a very familiar friend. It usually rolls in and blankets the hills and city in the early morning hours during autumn and winter. What I love about that winter fog is how crisp it is and the blues and purples of early morning moonlight or the luminous light that carves through the blur of the fog and is lit with the reds, yellows, and greens of traffic lights. As I drive to work or take the train, I also often see the heavy fog lying over the Willamette River as it slowly slithers and weaves through the neighborhoods, alleyways, and our many Doug firs and rose bushes.
It really is magical.
It is magical! And so is your poetic description of those fog misted scenes you encounter at home and in your travels. Thank you for sharing this.
We live three fields away from a small river that sits in a wide valley. We are elevated about ten metres. Many mornings a low mist hugs the furthest field and all we can see is oak trees extending upwards with the sun rising above the far hills. I'm not tired of seeing it.
I'm glad you shared that, James. I never tire of looking at it either.