Abstract

There is a long established literary tradition which I have never seen acknowledged, or even discussed openly, in which would-be authors (“would-be” relating to either writer's block or sloth, your choice) who are obliged to write something for publication in the latter part of the summer, inexplicably ignore what they know best and veer away into proscribed territory to write about the weather. Always the traditional sort, I am thus drawn to join my predecessors by ignoring geophysics for the moment to talk about the weather, which is not a pretty topic for Houston at this time of the year. Ever the backslider, however, I will eventually get back to geophysics if you can stick with me that long.

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