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Denver woman struck by lightning after it hits tree in front of her window
Denver woman struck by lightning after it hits tree in front of her window

Yahoo

time7 days ago

  • Climate
  • Yahoo

Denver woman struck by lightning after it hits tree in front of her window

DENVER (KDVR) — A Denver woman feels lucky to be safe after being struck by lightning through a window during Saturday's storms. Making for a cozy weekend in for these Vazquez sisters. Denver broke a 75-year daily record for rainfall on Sunday: NWS Cristina and Sarai Vasquez live along Federal Boulevard in West Highlands. They decided to stay in on Saturday night due to the storms. Cristina was freshly showered and decided to sit by a window near the top of their home. Watching the storm gain strength outside, her sister Sarai warned her not to sit too close before the unthinkable happened. 'Since the window is right by the tree, it literally looked like the whole back of the window was lit up, I just saw fire, and then it sounded like an earthquake, and my ears were ringing, and that's why I was staring at her like, did this just happen?' Sarai said. Lightning struck a large tree in their front yard and those electric currents traveled through the window and hit Cristina, who says she was on her phone when it all happened. 'I heard a loud noise and so I looked out of the window and then as soon as I looked back at my phone I see my arms light up, all my arm hairs stood up and then I turned at looked at my sister and my phone flew out of my hands,' she said. She felt some tingling and then numbness directly after, but was shockingly okay. They called 911 just to be safe and responding paramedics say they were just as shocked to see her unharmed. Supercell forms 3 tornadoes in Colorado Friday, including an EF-2: NWS 'I thought it was no big deal until the guys from the ambulance, one of them said, 'did you see the tree? You are one in a million, you need to go buy a lottery ticket.' I'm still shocked about it. I told my parents I always knew I was electric,' she joked. The National Weather Service is giving the following tips Indoor Lightning Safety: Stay off corded phones, computers and other electrical equipment that put you in direct contact with electricity. Avoid plumbing, including sinks, baths and faucets. Stay away from windows and doors, and stay off porches. Do not lie on concrete floors, and do not lean against concrete walls. She is spreading her story to warn others of the dangers of these types of storms. Copyright 2025 Nexstar Media, Inc. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.

Does light lose energy as it crosses the universe? The answer involves time dilation.
Does light lose energy as it crosses the universe? The answer involves time dilation.

Yahoo

time25-05-2025

  • Science
  • Yahoo

Does light lose energy as it crosses the universe? The answer involves time dilation.

When you buy through links on our articles, Future and its syndication partners may earn a commission. My telescope, set up for astrophotography in my light-polluted San Diego backyard, was pointed at a galaxy unfathomably far from Earth. My wife, Cristina, walked up just as the first space photo streamed to my tablet. It sparkled on the screen in front of us. "That's the Pinwheel galaxy," I said. The name is derived from its shape – albeit this pinwheel contains about a trillion stars. The light from the Pinwheel traveled for 25 million years across the universe – about 150 quintillion miles – to get to my telescope. My wife wondered: "Doesn't light get tired during such a long journey?" Her curiosity triggered a thought-provoking conversation about light. Ultimately, why doesn't light wear out and lose energy over time? I am an astrophysicist, and one of the first things I learned in my studies is how light often behaves in ways that defy our intuitions. Light is electromagnetic radiation: basically, an electric wave and a magnetic wave coupled together and traveling through space-time. It has no mass. That point is critical because the mass of an object, whether a speck of dust or a spaceship, limits the top speed it can travel through space. But because light is massless, it's able to reach the maximum speed limit in a vacuum – about 186,000 miles (300,000 kilometers) per second, or almost 6 trillion miles per year (9.6 trillion kilometers). Nothing traveling through space is faster. To put that into perspective: In the time it takes you to blink your eyes, a particle of light travels around the circumference of the Earth more than twice. As incredibly fast as that is, space is incredibly spread out. Light from the Sun, which is 93 million miles (about 150 million kilometers) from Earth, takes just over eight minutes to reach us. In other words, the sunlight you see is eight minutes old. Alpha Centauri, the nearest star to us after the Sun, is 26 trillion miles away (about 41 trillion kilometers). So by the time you see it in the night sky, its light is just over four years old. Or, as astronomers say, it's four light years away. Related: The shape of light: Scientists reveal image of an individual photon for 1st time ever With those enormous distances in mind, consider Cristina's question: How can light travel across the universe and not slowly lose energy? Actually, some light does lose energy. This happens when it bounces off something, such as interstellar dust, and is scattered about. But most light just goes and goes, without colliding with anything. This is almost always the case because space is mostly empty – nothingness. So there's nothing in the way. When light travels unimpeded, it loses no energy. It can maintain that 186,000-mile-per-second speed forever. Here's another concept: Picture yourself as an astronaut on board the International Space Station. You're orbiting at 17,000 miles (about 27,000 kilometers) per hour. Compared with someone on Earth, your wristwatch will tick 0.01 seconds slower over one year. That's an example of time dilation – time moving at different speeds under different conditions. If you're moving really fast, or close to a large gravitational field, your clock will tick more slowly than someone moving slower than you, or who is further from a large gravitational field. To say it succinctly, time is relative. Now consider that light is inextricably connected to time. Picture sitting on a photon, a fundamental particle of light; here, you'd experience maximum time dilation. Everyone on Earth would clock you at the speed of light, but from your reference frame, time would completely stop. That's because the "clocks" measuring time are in two different places going vastly different speeds: the photon moving at the speed of light, and the comparatively slowpoke speed of Earth going around the Sun. What's more, when you're traveling at or close to the speed of light, the distance between where you are and where you're going gets shorter. That is, space itself becomes more compact in the direction of motion – so the faster you can go, the shorter your journey has to be. In other words, for the photon, space gets squished. RELATED STORIES —New theory could finally make 'quantum gravity' a reality — and prove Einstein wrong —Black hole paradox that stumped Stephen Hawking may have a solution, new paper claims —In a first, physicists spot elusive 'free-range' atoms — confirming a century-old theory about quantum mechanics Which brings us back to my picture of the Pinwheel galaxy. From the photon's perspective, a star within the galaxy emitted it, and then a single pixel in my backyard camera absorbed it, at exactly the same time. Because space is squished, to the photon the journey was infinitely fast and infinitely short, a tiny fraction of a second. But from our perspective on Earth, the photon left the galaxy 25 million years ago and traveled 25 million light years across space until it landed on my tablet in my backyard. And there, on a cool spring night, its stunning image inspired a delightful conversation between a nerdy scientist and his curious wife. This edited article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Does Light Traveling Through Space Wear Out?
Does Light Traveling Through Space Wear Out?

Gizmodo

time25-05-2025

  • Science
  • Gizmodo

Does Light Traveling Through Space Wear Out?

My telescope, set up for astrophotography in my light-polluted San Diego backyard, was pointed at a galaxy unfathomably far from Earth. My wife, Cristina, walked up just as the first space photo streamed to my tablet. It sparkled on the screen in front of us. 'That's the Pinwheel galaxy,' I said. The name is derived from its shape–albeit this pinwheel contains about a trillion stars. The light from the Pinwheel traveled for 25 million years across the universe–about 150 quintillion miles–to get to my telescope. My wife wondered: 'Doesn't light get tired during such a long journey?' Her curiosity triggered a thought-provoking conversation about light. Ultimately, why doesn't light wear out and lose energy over time? Let's talk about light I am an astrophysicist, and one of the first things I learned in my studies is how light often behaves in ways that defy our intuitions. Light is electromagnetic radiation: basically, an electric wave and a magnetic wave coupled together and traveling through space-time. It has no mass. That point is critical because the mass of an object, whether a speck of dust or a spaceship, limits the top speed it can travel through space. But because light is massless, it's able to reach the maximum speed limit in a vacuum–about 186,000 miles (300,000 kilometers) per second, or almost 6 trillion miles per year (9.6 trillion kilometers). Nothing traveling through space is faster. To put that into perspective: In the time it takes you to blink your eyes, a particle of light travels around the circumference of the Earth more than twice. As incredibly fast as that is, space is incredibly spread out. Light from the Sun, which is 93 million miles (about 150 million kilometers) from Earth, takes just over eight minutes to reach us. In other words, the sunlight you see is eight minutes old. Alpha Centauri, the nearest star to us after the Sun, is 26 trillion miles away (about 41 trillion kilometers). So by the time you see it in the night sky, its light is just over four years old. Or, as astronomers say, it's four light years away. With those enormous distances in mind, consider Cristina's question: How can light travel across the universe and not slowly lose energy? Actually, some light does lose energy. This happens when it bounces off something, such as interstellar dust, and is scattered about. But most light just goes and goes, without colliding with anything. This is almost always the case because space is mostly empty–nothingness. So there's nothing in the way. When light travels unimpeded, it loses no energy. It can maintain that 186,000-mile-per-second speed forever. It's about time Here's another concept: Picture yourself as an astronaut on board the International Space Station. You're orbiting at 17,000 miles (about 27,000 kilometers) per hour. Compared with someone on Earth, your wristwatch will tick 0.01 seconds slower over one year. That's an example of time dilation–time moving at different speeds under different conditions. If you're moving really fast, or close to a large gravitational field, your clock will tick more slowly than someone moving slower than you, or who is further from a large gravitational field. To say it succinctly, time is relative. Now consider that light is inextricably connected to time. Picture sitting on a photon, a fundamental particle of light; here, you'd experience maximum time dilation. Everyone on Earth would clock you at the speed of light, but from your reference frame, time would completely stop. That's because the 'clocks' measuring time are in two different places going vastly different speeds: the photon moving at the speed of light, and the comparatively slowpoke speed of Earth going around the Sun. What's more, when you're traveling at or close to the speed of light, the distance between where you are and where you're going gets shorter. That is, space itself becomes more compact in the direction of motion–so the faster you can go, the shorter your journey has to be. In other words, for the photon, space gets squished. Which brings us back to my picture of the Pinwheel galaxy. From the photon's perspective, a star within the galaxy emitted it, and then a single pixel in my backyard camera absorbed it, at exactly the same time. Because space is squished, to the photon the journey was infinitely fast and infinitely short, a tiny fraction of a second. But from our perspective on Earth, the photon left the galaxy 25 million years ago and traveled 25 million light years across space until it landed on my tablet in my backyard. And there, on a cool spring night, its stunning image inspired a delightful conversation between a nerdy scientist and his curious wife. Jarred Roberts, Project Scientist, University of California, San Diego. This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Do photons wear out? An astrophysicist explains light's ability to travel vast cosmic distances without losing energy
Do photons wear out? An astrophysicist explains light's ability to travel vast cosmic distances without losing energy

Yahoo

time20-05-2025

  • Science
  • Yahoo

Do photons wear out? An astrophysicist explains light's ability to travel vast cosmic distances without losing energy

My telescope, set up for astrophotography in my light-polluted San Diego backyard, was pointed at a galaxy unfathomably far from Earth. My wife, Cristina, walked up just as the first space photo streamed to my tablet. It sparkled on the screen in front of us. 'That's the Pinwheel galaxy,' I said. The name is derived from its shape – albeit this pinwheel contains about a trillion stars. The light from the Pinwheel traveled for 25 million years across the universe – about 150 quintillion miles – to get to my telescope. My wife wondered: 'Doesn't light get tired during such a long journey?' Her curiosity triggered a thought-provoking conversation about light. Ultimately, why doesn't light wear out and lose energy over time? I am an astrophysicist, and one of the first things I learned in my studies is how light often behaves in ways that defy our intuitions. Light is electromagnetic radiation: basically, an electric wave and a magnetic wave coupled together and traveling through space-time. It has no mass. That point is critical because the mass of an object, whether a speck of dust or a spaceship, limits the top speed it can travel through space. But because light is massless, it's able to reach the maximum speed limit in a vacuum – about 186,000 miles (300,000 kilometers) per second, or almost 6 trillion miles per year (9.6 trillion kilometers). Nothing traveling through space is faster. To put that into perspective: In the time it takes you to blink your eyes, a particle of light travels around the circumference of the Earth more than twice. As incredibly fast as that is, space is incredibly spread out. Light from the Sun, which is 93 million miles (about 150 million kilometers) from Earth, takes just over eight minutes to reach us. In other words, the sunlight you see is eight minutes old. Alpha Centauri, the nearest star to us after the Sun, is 26 trillion miles away (about 41 trillion kilometers). So by the time you see it in the night sky, its light is just over four years old. Or, as astronomers say, it's four light years away. With those enormous distances in mind, consider Cristina's question: How can light travel across the universe and not slowly lose energy? Actually, some light does lose energy. This happens when it bounces off something, such as interstellar dust, and is scattered about. But most light just goes and goes, without colliding with anything. This is almost always the case because space is mostly empty – nothingness. So there's nothing in the way. When light travels unimpeded, it loses no energy. It can maintain that 186,000-mile-per-second speed forever. Here's another concept: Picture yourself as an astronaut on board the International Space Station. You're orbiting at 17,000 miles (about 27,000 kilometers) per hour. Compared with someone on Earth, your wristwatch will tick 0.01 seconds slower over one year. That's an example of time dilation – time moving at different speeds under different conditions. If you're moving really fast, or close to a large gravitational field, your clock will tick more slowly than someone moving slower than you, or who is further from a large gravitational field. To say it succinctly, time is relative. Now consider that light is inextricably connected to time. Picture sitting on a photon, a fundamental particle of light; here, you'd experience maximum time dilation. Everyone on Earth would clock you at the speed of light, but from your reference frame, time would completely stop. That's because the 'clocks' measuring time are in two different places going vastly different speeds: the photon moving at the speed of light, and the comparatively slowpoke speed of Earth going around the Sun. What's more, when you're traveling at or close to the speed of light, the distance between where you are and where you're going gets shorter. That is, space itself becomes more compact in the direction of motion – so the faster you can go, the shorter your journey has to be. In other words, for the photon, space gets squished. Which brings us back to my picture of the Pinwheel galaxy. From the photon's perspective, a star within the galaxy emitted it, and then a single pixel in my backyard camera absorbed it, at exactly the same time. Because space is squished, to the photon the journey was infinitely fast and infinitely short, a tiny fraction of a second. But from our perspective on Earth, the photon left the galaxy 25 million years ago and traveled 25 million light years across space until it landed on my tablet in my backyard. And there, on a cool spring night, its stunning image inspired a delightful conversation between a nerdy scientist and his curious wife. This article is republished from The Conversation, a nonprofit, independent news organization bringing you facts and trustworthy analysis to help you make sense of our complex world. It was written by: Jarred Roberts, University of California, San Diego Read more: Have we made an object that could travel 1% the speed of light? 'Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence' − an astronomer explains how much evidence scientists need to claim discoveries like extraterrestrial life Property and sovereignty in space − as countries and companies take to the stars, they could run into disputes Jarred Roberts receives funding from NASA.

A journey through Zamora's Semana Santa
A journey through Zamora's Semana Santa

Hans India

time18-05-2025

  • Hans India

A journey through Zamora's Semana Santa

I was on my way to Zamora city, the capital of Zamora province in the Castile and León region of northwest Spain- a less explored and charming part of the country. Outside, swathes of golden rape fields and emerald meadows stretched like silken tapestries, while the icy breath of a one-degree morning clung to the car windows. I was en route to witness Semana Santa—the Holy Week—in this ancient city, often called Spain's Romanesque treasure. Zamora, perched above the Duero River, is a city suspended in time. With the highest concentration of Romanesque churches in all of Europe—24 dating from the 12th and 13th centuries—it's often described as a living museum of stone and faith. I checked into the Palacio del Duero, a tranquil hotel carved out of a 14th-century convent, and met my guide, Cristina, who led me through the heart of Zamora's storied past. We began at Balborraz Street, a medieval artery sloping steeply toward the river lined with picturesque low-rise houses with balconies and wooden gazebos that overlook the street. This street hosts one of the key processions of Holy Week, and the air seemed to echo with the slow, solemn steps of hooded penitents. Everywhere we walked, I found the city reflecting the mood of the Holy Week: right from Semana Santa inspired window dressings to figurines of Christ in sorrow. Traffic lights were discreetly covered so as not to disturb the sacred aesthetic during processions. The statue of the Merlú in Plaza Mayor captivated me—two bronze figures frozen in time, playing the drum and the cornet. They once roamed the city at dawn, waking the faithful for the processions. Thetradition continues even today, at 5 a.m. on Good Friday, five such pairs march through the streets, their haunting rhythms stirring souls from sleep. Cristina led me through the Romanesque mile: San Juan de Puerta Nueva, with its beautiful rose window; Santa María Magdalena, home to a mystical sepulchre and a smiling Christ, decorative elements, and stunning apse. San Isidoro, San Vicente, and Santiago del Burgo, each had its own charm. The Church of San Pedro y San Ildefonso (the Saint patron of Zamora) houses the relics of San Ildefonso and San Atilano. Here the Virgin of Beautiful Love—Virgen del Amor Hermoso, carved in wood, is adorned with real earrings donated by devotees seeking good fortune in love. She is depicted triumphing over evil, her foot crushing a devil-serpent bearing an apple in its jaws. We went past the Theatre of Ramos Carrion-a beautiful blue building; explored Viriato Square with the imposing sculpture of the Portuguese shepherd; admired the 'Stone Bridge', one of the most iconic landmarks of Zamora- a Romanesque bridge from the 12th century consisting of sixteen oval arches that elegantly span the river. The Cathedral of Zamora stood like a sentinel over the city, crowned with its unique Byzantine dome. Christoph Strieder- councillor of tourism in the town hall of Zamora, my cheerful host, received me warmly, took me around and introduced me to the local luminaries. Inside the cathedral, light filtered softly over carved choir stalls and Renaissance gates. I felt I was in a period filmset: clergymen in velvet robes and rosaries holding staffs and the brotherhood standing solemnly in penitence. Protected from the cold I sat snugly inside the church and watched as they prepared for the procession. As hundreds of people viewed through the last rays of the sun, the solemn gathering in front of the cathedral made a picture of divine spirituality. Incense permeated the air as the penitents took an oath of silence. Holding candles, they then started moving slowly and so did the Pasos, carried reverently by the brotherhood members. As I watched a stork feeding her young atop the Cathedral, with passion flowers blooming below, I knew I hadn't merely observed Semana Santa—I had lived it, in a city where faith is etched in every stone and whispered in every silence.

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