Now that's the cloud provider with the worst customer support. I've never been able to reach anyone there.
Cloud Appreciation Society
11–20 of 54 posts
Re: Cloud Appreciation Society
#12What’s the best place on the planet to see clouds?
Mountainous regions that aren't totally arid
Re: Cloud Appreciation Society
#13Ha ha, this gave me a good laugh
Re: Cloud Appreciation Society
#14Makes we want to invest some time in whitepuffies.com
Re: Cloud Appreciation Society
#15Who hasn't admired Mammatus clouds? Or a "Mackeral sky" at sunset?
I still class discrete Cumulous clouds as "simpsons" clouds. I keep expecting a couch to appear.
Seeing Lenticular clouds over Mt Ranier as a tourist made that day.
Re: Cloud Appreciation Society
#16I remember bookmarking this site years ago, nice to see it here. The about page says it was founded in 2005.
Re: Cloud Appreciation Society
#17Now that's the cloud provider with the worst customer support. I've never been able to reach anyone there.
"Old man yells at cloud"
Re: Cloud Appreciation Society
#18Their newsletter/membership famously featured on Taskmaster!
Re: Cloud Appreciation Society
#19I highly recommend‘The Cloudspotter’s Guide’[0] from Gavin Pretor-Pinney (the founder of the Cloud Appreciation Society). One of the most eclectic read I’ve had, covering history, science and adventure in always a funny a didactic way.
[0]: https://cloudappreciationsociety.org/shop/the-cloudspotters-...
Re: Cloud Appreciation Society
#20Reminds me of the wonderful passage about clouds from Herman Hesse's novel Peter Camenzind: "...zeigt mit das Ding in der Welt, das schöner ist als Wolken sind! Sie sind Spiel und Augentrost, sie sind Segen und Gottesgabe, sie sind Zorn und Todesmacht. Sie sind zart, weich und friedlich wie die Seelen von Neugeborenen, sie sind schön, reich und spendend wie gute Engel, sie sind dunkel, unentrinnbar und schonungslos w…
> show me the thing in the world that is more beautiful than clouds! They are play and eyebright, they are blessings and gifts of God, they are wrath and the power of death. They are delicate, soft and peaceful like the souls of newborns, they are beautiful, rich and bounties like good angels, they are dark, inescapable and ruthless like the emissaries of death. They float silver in a thin layer, they sail laughingly white with a golden edge, they stand resting in yellow, red and bluish colors. They slink darkly and slowly like murderers, they rush headlong like mad riders, they hang sad and dreaming in pale heights like melancholy hermits. They have the forms of blessed islands and the forms of blessing angels, they are like threatening hands, fluttering sails, migrating cranes. They hover between God's heaven and poor earth as beautiful parables of all human longing, belonging to both — dreams of the earth in which she nestles her tainted soul against the pure heaven. They are the eternal symbol of all wandering, all searching, longing and longing for home. And just as they hang timidly and longingly and defiantly between earth and heaven, so the souls of men hang timidly and longingly and defiantly between time and eternity.