Tentative name for my blind people group: Nitɬ'am.
Will likely be changed at some point, but at least I can use it to refer to them for now.
I wonder if I could write a good poem about friendship. I wonder what it would take for me to do so.

I think the best poetry I've ever written is probably the two sonnets I wrote for my Renaissance Literature class at UBC; I've always been a bit shy about showing them to the world because, well, they're somewhat extravagant expressions of romantic love, which is just not a thing I do. (I think it's kind of funny that the only time I've ever written love poetry was when I wasn't in love. :-)

When I wrote them, I think it was important that I read a lot of sonnets by the authors we were studying, way beyond what was required for class. I think steeping myself in the poetry I was imitating was important for me to be able to write something in the same metre and at least a similar style.

I also think that I've really only been successful at writing bits of alliterative verse in Modern English when I've been reading Old English alliterative verse.

That suggests that to write in a particular style and metre, I might need to be reading that style and metre.

I have no idea what style or metre I'd want to write a poem about friendship in.
A while ago, probably at Christmas, my friend Mark and I were talking about naming systems, and trying to come up with an Orthodox-friendly naming system that would fulfil several constraints:

-It should be gender-equal
-It should have a way of tracing descent
-There should be a single family name shared by all members of a household/nuclear family

I came up with a system that worked something like this:
- Each person has a given name, named in Orthodox fashion after a patron saint.

- Each person has two inherited names, one inherited purely matrilineally and one inherited purely patrilineally.
- The order of the inherited names is decided by gender; e.g., if you're female your matrilineal name precedes your patrilineal name, and if you're male your patrilineal name precedes your matrilineal name. Or vice versa.
- Inherited names do not change when you get married; they show descent, and your descent doesn't change when you get married.

- When a couple gets married, they choose a patron saint for the family; that saint's name becomes a family name for the nuclear family. This family name makes it possible to refer to 'the Ignatius family' or 'the Katherine family', etc.

It seems like a pretty good solution that fits all the constraints. However, implementing this naming system in real life is not plausible; you could do the family name = patron saint part, but for the matrilineal name and patrilineal name parts of it to work, you'd have to have societal-level acceptance of the system, which is not going to happen.

The concept of independent matrilineal and patrilineal names is related to a lineage system (not a naming system) that I thought of a long time ago (when I lived on the Sunshine Coast) for one of the societies in Domil: Everyone traces their 'fatherline' and 'motherline' - essentially their purely patrilineal descent and purely matrilineal descent, and families try to track them as far as possible. Fatherlines are more important for males and motherlines are more important for females, but you'd normally know both.
It just occurred to me to wonder: in my blind society, would sea water and fresh water both be thought of as varieties of water, or would they be thought of as separate kinds of liquid? Without both appearing clear, they're not as obviously groupable together and separate from other sorts of liquid. On the other hand, I'm sure it would be discovered that if you dry sea water up, you get salt, and if you add fresh water to salt, you get salt water, which might make sea water fairly easily recognizable as fresh water + salt.
I've been getting frustrated with the fact that I can't name my blind society or give any of their words for anything, because I don't have any of the language invented. So I started coming up with some of the basics for it this morning. All this is very much first-draft and subject to revision.

Morphologically, it's largely isolating with regard to inflection, but it does have derivation and compounding. Kind of like Ikanirae Seru (my best-developed conlang) that way, and not entirely accidentally - it's what I find easiest, even if it's not what I like best. (Over the course of time, some independent words may turn into inflectional affixes, but that hasn't happened in the main period I'm focusing on.)

I don't know anything about syntax yet.

For phonology I'm drawing on Pacific Northwest native languages, Proto-Indo-European, and Semitic, but not relying only on them for possibilities. I don't have the full phoneme inventory worked out, but I have a lot of the ingredients.

The vowel system is a basic 5-vowel system.
Syllable structure is C(C)V(C): Onsets are obligatory, initial two-consonant clusters are possible, and single-consonant codas are possible.

There's a glottalized/unglottalized division running through pretty much the whole consonant system, including sonorants as well as obstruents. (Glottalized obstruents are ejective, but it's manifested differently in sonorants.) Obstruents additionally have a voiced/voiceless distinction in unglottalized sounds.

Places of articulation for obstruents and nasals include labial (probably bilabial for stops and labiodental for fricatives), dental/alveolar, velar, and labiovelar. Fricatives may make more distinctions in the coronal area (i.e., in addition to /s/ there may be /θ/ and/or /ʃ/, and their voiced and glottalized counterparts); I do know that there's an alveolar lateral fricative /ɬ/. I'm not sure if there are affricates, or if affricate-like clusters just come together when a fricative follows a stop.

For non-nasal sonorants there are /l/, /r/ (not sure what kind of r yet), /w/, /j/.
There's also glottal stop and /h/.

There are phonotactic restrictions and phonological rules relating to how different laryngeal specifications combine in clusters. They can almost be summed up by saying that there can only be one distinctive laryngeal specification in a cluster, though that's probably not quite true when sonorants are involved.

If any consonant in the cluster (sonorant or obstruent) is glottalized, the whole cluster counts as glottalized; although the glottalization may be more manifest in one part of the cluster than others, there are no distinctively non-glottalized sounds in the cluster.

When there are no glottalized consonants involved, if any obstruent in the cluster is voiced, all other obstruents in the cluster are voiced. Clusters with multiple voiceless obstruents only occur when both obstruents are underlyingly voiceless.

Since sonorants don't have a voicing distinction, a voiced (non-glottalized) sonorant can combine with either a voiceless obstruent or a voiced obstruent in a cluster.

I'm not quite sure how /h/ and /ʔ/ fit in with these rules.
I've been thinking about how the sun and its effects would be perceived and understood in the blind society I'm working on.

They would perceive the sun mainly as a heat source. They would likely conceptualize it as a fire, because fire is the main heat source that they would have close-at-hand experience of. (Well, and also body heat. But I expect sun-heat would be perceived as more like fire-heat than like body-heat, because fire-heat is more noticeable when you're not in direct contact with its source.) I think it's likely that their word for sun is morphologically derived from their word for fire.

They would perceive the sun as a heat source with a direction. On a fairly coarse level, the direction of the sun is directly perceivable as the direction of the heat on your body, and they would have experienced this from the beginning. They would also have observed pretty much from the beginning that objects block sun-heat (i.e., make shadows). (I wonder how quickly they would connect this to the concept of objects blocking sound, which they would definitely be aware of. In my limited length of time observing small variations in sound, I've definitely noticed sound shadows.) From observing the direction of shadows by feeling where there's shadow and where there isn't, they should be able to determine the direction of the sun with greater precision than simply feeling where the shadow is on their body. I expect they develop an awareness of the usefulness of shadows in determining sun direction quite early.

They would notice that some objects absorb more sun-heat than others. They'd notice that the kind of material makes a difference, but they'd also notice that some objects that are otherwise similar absorb sun-heat to different amounts (corresponding to light and dark colouration). For example, they might notice that some rabbit pelts (ones we'd call black) absorb more sun-heat than others (ones we'd call white).

They'd notice that on some days/at some times, sun-heat is easier to feel and to notice the direction of, while on other days (often cooler days, even in the same season), you can't feel the direction of sun-heat or feel a difference in where objects are blocking sun-heat. They'd notice a correlation between when you can't feel sun heat and when it rains - when it's raining, you can rarely feel sun-heat, and you usually can't feel sun-heat right before or after it rains. I think from this, they'd likely develop a conceptualization that there is something overhead blocking the sun, essentially making a shadow, and that this thing is the source that rain falls from. In other words, they could get a basic idea of clouds.

They'd notice that sun-heat gets more intense in the summer and less intense in the winter. They could either conceptualize this as the sun-fire getting stronger and weaker, or as the sun-fire getting closer and farther. My initial intuition was closer/farther, but now I'm less sure.

They'd also notice the phenomenon of sunburns. I'm not sure what that would contribute to their conceptualization of the sun.

They'd be aware of sun-related phenomena in plants and animals. They'd notice that some plants open their flowers when the sun is up and close them when the sun is down. They'd likely notice that some plants turn their flowers or leaves towards the sun. They'd notice that certain animals have certain behaviour patterns that are tied to the sun. (I wonder what they'd make of birds singing a bit before the sun comes up - how would they account for the fact that the birds know when the sun will be up before its heat is perceivable? Might they even get the cause and effect backwards and suppose that the birds call the sun up? But the birds probably don't sing like that all year, and the sun comes up all year.)

All this they would know by the time period I'm focusing on. A few posts ago, I mentioned that after the time period I'm mainly focusing on, they develop more sophisticated measurement and observation technology. This is basically a period of major scientific development - people who you could call scientists develop an interest in measurement, and in determining properties of things more precisely.

Among the measurement instruments they develop is one for observing the direction of the sun. Here's how I imagine it working. It's based on the idea of localizing light vs. shadow, except rather than localizing a shadow amid heat, it's localizing a spot of heat in an otherwise heat-dark room. (It's hard to know exactly how to talk about these things. I want to say an otherwise dark room, which it would be, but the visual darkness isn't what they care about.) The basic idea is that there's a smallish hole in the wall, which lets the sun-heat in. The sun-heat falls on a certain spot on the floor or wall. It's possible to measure both the horizontal and vertical angle from the floor/wall to the hole. These angles could be marked on the floor. I imagine the horizontal angles are marked on the floor/wall as lines radiating from the direction of the hole, and the vertical angles are marked as increments along those lines. The lines would be some sort of raised or indented pattern - a groove or a bump. How would you feel where the sun was? There are two possibilities. One is that you would feel it on your hand - possibly with a heat-absorbing mitt of some sort on your hand to help you feel it better - and the other is that you feel where the floor/wall is heated, in which case the floor/wall would be covered with some sort of heat-absorbing material - possibly charcoal mixed with some sort of binder. (Would charcoal mixed with clay work as a heat-absorbing paint?) In order to detect the sun over the whole range of angles it can be at, you would need multiple holes facing in multiple directions; in order not to confuse the lines on the floor, these would likely be in different observing rooms. You might be able to do it just with one facing southeast and one facing southwest, but I'm not sure. (I'm assuming a northern hemisphere location at the moment.)

(Would such an instrument really be better than just observing the direction and length of the shadow of an upright object? I think it would be more precise, but I'm not sure. Maybe if you just had a really tall pillar, you could measure the angle and length of the shadow just as precisely.)

Eventually, they may develop an instrument to detect heat, perhaps specifically sun-heat. I'm imagining something along the lines of a thermoscope, but built in such a way that rather than seeing the water level rise and fall in the tube, it would be possible to feel the water level rise and fall in the outer vessel. I still need to figure out the details of how such an instrument could plausibly work. It may also be that they don't use it to measure temperatures per se, but, by making the expand/contract portion of the instrument so that it is good at absorbing heat, they can make it more sensitive to detecting whether sun-heat is present, though not necessarily at measuring how much of it there is.
I went to SCA meeting last night, and took the opportunity to ask one of the metalworking enthusiasts there about things related to blind metalworking. I had wondered if it might be possible to identify ores by taste, but I hadn't actually mentioned the question to him when he brought up that he thought it would be possible - he listed a bunch that he's tasted and said they all tasted distinctive.

I imagine this might potentially cause health problems if used on certain ores too much, such as lead ores (and yes, he said he had tasted lead ore). But it's good to know that it's a plausible technique.
I was talking to Maria the other day and telling her a little bit about my calendar thoughts, and she, being a student of comparative religion, asked what their worship was like. I didn't know, but together with the idea that they have divinely-given weeks, and the idea I mentioned yesterday that their ecologically-based calendar system might be preserved for ritual purposes even after they develop 4-week months, an idea came together that I think fits.

Every village has a temple, likely in the middle of the village. There is a weekly communal worship ceremony on the first day of the week. This is integrated with the system of marking ecologically-determined periods. When the observations are made and confirmed that the natural signs of a new period have started, the start of that period is ceremonially recognized at the next weekly ceremony. If the period involves the beginning of production of some kind of food (e.g., ripeness of something), some of that food is brought as a thank offering, blessed, and distributed to the people. A period of the year thus always contains an integer number of weeks.

Because of the integration of this calendar with worship and subsistence life, it does not go away when months are introduced; rather, the two systems run alongside each other.[1]

I was telling Heather all about calendar systems and the thoughts I've been developing, and she asked a good question: why do they develop a month-based system at all? Why do they bother? What advantage is it to them over a purely ecological system?

At that time, I didn't have a good answer. I think I do now. The ecological calendar is very local, and will differ from village to village. Weeks, however, run in synchrony throughout the island. Week-based months will, too, and allow different villages to plan things and synchronize events. There is still some possibility that calendars will get off from each other by different observations of a year start, though. I think this is a good reason for intercalation to be based on months rather than on years. If they intercalate weeks, some villages might end up starting a month a week ahead of or behind another village's months. If they intercalate months, in every village months will start and end at the same time, though it is still possible that their year start determinations will differ and so which month it is might differ from village to village. Since intercalation of whole months is needed fairly infrequently (around every 20 years), it may be that this is something that is determined by a whole-island council or something like that, rather than by direct local observation.

[1] For a partial precedent, compare the Attic calendar; according to Wikipedia, there were three different calendars in use simultaneously:
* A festival calendar of 12 months based on the cycle of the moon
* A democratic state calendar of 10 arbitrary months
* An agricultural calendar of seasons using star risings to fix points in time
I think all that research and brainstorming was enough to give me a good idea for how timekeeping works in my blind society (I really should come up with enough of their language to give them a name...). I think there's a chronological development over time.

In an early period, before the time that I'm focusing on, they marked parts of the year according to formal ecological timekeeping, and also had a 7-day week cycle. By the time I'm focusing on (but maybe not many centuries in the past), they had developed a 4-week unit, which I may as well call in English a month. Months were ecologically-named, and there was an ecologically-determined year start. They knew that a year normally contained 13 months. I'm still deciding how intercalation worked - whether they intercalated weeks or months. A solar year is roughly 365.25 days long (that's the Julian not-quite-correct approximation, but it will do for this purpose). A year of 13 28-day months is 364 days long - that's 1.25 days short. That would mean that an intercalary week would be needed every 5 or 6 years:

5 years * 1.25 days short = 6.25 days short in 5 years
6 years * 1.25 days short = 7.5 days short in 6 years

An intercalary month would be needed every 22 or 23 years:

22 years * 1.25 days short = 27.5 days short in 22 years
23 years * 1.25 days short = 28.75 days short in 23 years.

I suspect initially, their ecologically-based year start determination isn't very precise, which means realizing that an extra month is needed is more likely than realizing that an extra week is needed.

Days are not normally consecutively numbered within months; rather they're identified by which day of the week and which week of the month they are, and since weeks and months are aligned, this is a consistent designator. Weeks in a month are numbered; I suspect days of the week are generally referred to by name, not number.

The system of ecological timekeeping without months may still survive to some degree - either formally for ritual purposes, since ritual purposes tend to be conservative, or informally with people still making use of ecological period-names because they represent something in their experience that isn't captured by the system of months.

Eventually, after the period I'm focusing on, they develop more sophisticated measurement and observation technology, including methods for observing the sun with greater accuracy than just feeling on your body which direction its warmth is coming from, and they likely ultimately switch to a solar-based year start rather than an ecologically-based one, and may determine a calculated scheme of intercalation rather than an observational one.
While I was poking around doing research for this post (specifically, trying to find evidence of Native North American cultures having ecologically-named and possibly ecologically-based months on a lunisolar calendar), I stumbled across a way of reconciling the cycles of solar year and lunar month that I hadn't heard of before. I came across it in the Musqueam reference grammar by Wayne P. Suttles. The evidence for how the Musqueam calendar worked is kind of thin, but other Salishan languages use the system described (p. 517):
One way of adjusting a lunar calendar to the solar year is to insert a thirteenth month every four years or so, as the Jewish and Chinese calendars do. Another, probably more common way is to begin counting moons with some event that is determined by the solar year, count up to, say, ten moons, stop counting, and then begin again when the event that you started with comes again. In this way a "Sandhill Crane Moon" will correspond to the coming of the sandhill cranes.

Counting moons, leaving a gap, and beginning the count again with the observation of something determined by the solar year is just what was done by people upriver from the Musqueam. According to Diamond Jenness (1955, 7-9), the Katzie, who spoke a Downriver Halkomelem dialect very close to that of the Musqueam, counted ten months beginning with the arrival of the sockeye in August of the Gregorian calendar, leaving a period covering June and July with two names but not regarded as part of the count. The Chehalis, an Upriver Halkomelem-speaking peoople, as reported by Charles Hill-Tout (1904, 334-35), began a count of moons with the chinook salmon spawning in October, counted ten moons, and stopped counting in July, leaving a period called by a term said to refer to the coming together of the ends of the year. Neither Jenness nor Hill-Tout gave any reason for this uncounted period. But James Teit (1900, 339), describing the practice of the Ntlakapmux (Thompson), is very clear about it. The Ntlakapmux began a moon count with the rutting of the deer or some other animal in the fall, counted eleven months, and left a period as "the rest of the year." "This indefinite period of unnamed months," Teit explains, "enabled the Indians to bring the lunar and solar years into harmony".


This isn't relevant for my blind society, but is worth being aware of for more general calendar-making, as another way things can be done.
This post is for brainstorming ideas for how times smaller than a year but larger than a day could be reckoned in a blind society. It includes some ideas I'm sure I don't want to use, as well as ones I might.

Inherited months
One possibility is that they inherited a month-sized unit of time from the group they branched off from, and have maintained it, possibly with some modifications since they don't perceive the lunar cycle it was originally based on. I think this is a boring option, so I don't plan to use it.

Ecologically-based timekeeping
Ecologically-based timekeeping reckons time of year based on cues in the living environment: things like when a certain plant grows shoots, when a certain plant flowers, when a certain plant has ripe fruit, when certain birds sing, etc. There are Earth calendars that involve ecological components. Older versions of the Hebrew calendar, and the version now used by Karaite Jews, determined the beginning of the month of Aviv by whether barley was ripe; if it wasn't, an intercalary month would be added. In many languages, months of lunisolar and solar calendars have names that reflect ecology; in some cases, especially with lunisolar calendars, these could reflect an earlier ecological basis for month determination. I can imagine several variants of ecologically-based timekeeping:

Informal ecological timekeeping
Informal ecological timekeeping takes note of ecological signs, and can talk about past and future times by referring to those ecological signs. It may or may not have an established sequence of ecological periods - the period when X is ripe followed by the period when Y is ripe, etc. But it doesn't have communally formally-defined transitions from one period to another. There's no communally-recognized first day of the next ecological period.

Formal observational ecological timekeeping
This turns informal ecological timekeeping into a system. There is a fixed sequence of ecological periods; when a new one starts is determined observationally in a way that can be shared with the whole (local) community, and the beginning of a new period is communally recognized. This could be by whoever notices that the period has begun telling others and getting confirmation of their evidence. It could be that there's someone who has a ritual timekeeping position who observes the signs and declares it to the community when a new period has begun. And there are probably other ways. In this kind of system, ecological periods will differ in length from year to year, and some ecological periods of the year may be significantly longer than others.

Idealized ecological timekeeping
In this system, units of time that were once based on ecological observation are given fixed lengths, and recur at the same interval year-to-year, regardless of whether they match with ecological observations in this particular year. (Intercalation of some sort will be necessary in order to keep the year roughly synchronous with the solar year.)

The variant of these that I am most likely to use is formal observational ecological timekeeping.

Divinely-given 7-day weeks
In an old version of Domil, I worked on an assumption that 7-day weeks are divinely-given, in Domil as well as on Earth; thus, all Domil societies used a 7-day week, whatever the rest of their calendar was like (unlike Earth, in which some societies have not traditionally used a 7-day week). I am not sure if I am still going to work on that assumption, but I might. I think a calendar system based only on days, weeks, and years is still probably a bit unwieldy - it feels like you'd probably want something larger than a week. Although, if you use seasons (quarter-year seasons), and count months within each season, that might work. More likely is that they use weeks in concert with ecological timekeeping.

Co-occurring weeks of differing lengths
As mentioned in previous posts, you can get an intermediate-sized unit by having two different "weeks" that run alongside each other, such as the Akan calendar with 6-day weeks and 7-day weeks which combine to make a 42-day "month". In some of my previous workings for Domil timekeeping systems, one society used concurrent 7-day and 12-day cycles, which combine to make an 84-day cycle. If I use a variant of this system for my blind society, I will use a 7-day cycle for one of them, but I'm not sure how long I'd make the other cycle be. The larger units could function as month-like units in correspondence with an ecologically-determined year start.

"Long weeks"
Some calendars have week-like units with arbitrary numbers of days that are significantly longer than a 7-day week. The Mayan calendar has a 13-day unit and a 20-day unit, which combine to create a longer unit, but the smaller units themselves are instances of what I'd think of as "long weeks". There could be a similar sort of "long week" that could serve a month-like purpose.

Groups of weeks
Weeks (assuming 7-day here, but in principle it could be other lengths) can be grouped into larger units, which could end up approximately month-sized. I suppose a fortnight is the smallest example of this. The Igbo calendar has 4-day weeks, with 7 weeks making a 28-day month. A calendar system I was working on a long time ago for another Domil people group had 7-day weeks, with 4 weeks making a 28-day month. Either way, 13 months of 28 days each makes a 364 day year, which would need some sort of intercalation to stay on track with the solar year. A 28-day month is close to a lunar month, but a bit short, so it wouldn't stay in sync. It is tidily in sync with weeks - a given day of the month would always fall on the same day of the week (at least as long as your intercalation added weeks or months, rather than filling up the year with a day (in normal years) or two (in leap years) that were outside the weeks and months). The rough equivalence with lunar months is probably where that number of weeks came from, but obviously it's not closely tied to the lunar cycle. 28 days is also close to the typical length of a menstrual cycle. I think a calendar system that was actively based on menstrual cycles would be really tricky to arrange, but I think it's much more plausible that if you have weeks in your calendar system already, you would notice that menstrual cycles lasted about 4 weeks. And I think that could provide a basis for choosing a 4-week grouping of weeks. An added bonus is that since it roughly corresponds to a lunar month, it will also roughly correspond to a tidal month.

Tidal months
They could have months based on observations of the tides. I'm not sure if these would more likely be full months or half-months.
The first step to figuring out a plausible system of timekeeping for my blind society is determining what natural cycles it could be based on.

Day and year
It's pretty obvious that day and year would both be observable. The day would be observable directly from day/night temperature variations and differences in the felt direction of the sun on non-cloudy days. It would also be observable indirectly through diurnal activities and phenomena in the living world - e.g. birds singing at dawn, flowers being open in the day and closed at night. Probably the natural time to mark the beginning of a day would be at a day/night boundary - either sunrise or sunset.

The year would be observable directly through differences in seasonal temperature/weather patterns; if they're in a sufficiently non-tropical location, it would also be observable through differences in day/night length; I'm not sure how noticeable differences in sun angle through the year would be. The year would also be observable indirectly through such things as plant growth and ripening, and animal migration and life cycles. It's not clear to me how you'd decide where to mark the beginning of a year, but I suspect animal and plant cycles would probably provide clearer marking points than weather and day length.

Lunar cycle: not observable
The moon, and thus the lunar month, would not be directly observable.

The lack of an obvious basis for a lunar month is interesting, because most Earth calendars have a month of some sort, whether it remains synchronized to the lunar month or not. There are, however, a few calendars that don't have months with lengths based on the lunar month; the ones I've seen use some other intermediate unit between days and years:

Akan calendar
Pentecontad calendar

There are also some other calendars that do include some reckoning of months, but also include a different sub-year group of days that is not dependent on the month:
Maya calendar
Javanese calendar

Other cycles
Although the lunar cycle would not be directly observable, the tidal cycle, which is related to the lunar cycle, would be. The society is located on an island in the ocean, so they would have experience with coasts and tides. What they would observe in tides depends on what kind of tides their location has. I learnt recently from Wikipedia that there are three main kinds of tidal patterns. Diurnal tides have one high tide and one low tide a day. Semidiurnal tides have two high tides and two low tides a day, with relatively similar heights for the highs and relatively similar lownesses for the lows. Mixed tides have two highs and two lows a day, but one high is significantly higher than the other, and one low is significantly lower than the other. My experience with tides is with mixed tides, and I had assumed they were universal. This map shows that most places in the world have either semidiurnal or mixed tides, so I can assume at least that my blind society would have experience with two highs and two lows a day. Of course, the point of bringing up the tidal cycle is that it's not exactly per day - a tidal day is longer than a solar day by about an hour. If I understand right, the tidal day and the solar day will resynchronize every month. Also, the relationship between the position of the sun and moon creates spring tides (when the tidal action of sun and moon is aligned at full and new moon) and neap tides (when the tidal action of sun and moon is crosswise at half moon). Tidal cycles might give a basis for the creation of a month or half-month period, but I'm not sure. It takes more to extract that from tidal patterns than from simple lunar phases. And how important the tidal cycle would be to them would depend on how much use they make of the ocean and intertidal zone.

Another observable cycle would be women's menstrual cycles. The length is approximately a month, but can vary considerably. And the timing is different for different women, so unlike astronomically-determined cycles, there's not a communally-accessible single standard.

I can't think of any other observable plausibly-useful natural cycles that are smaller than a year.

Small time units and echolocation
This observation is kind of irrelevant to the above thoughts about calendars, and is more relevant to the topic of time units smaller than a day, which I'm not really digging into right now.

They use echolocation. For sufficiently distant objects, this involves making a click and hearing a distinct echo a brief time later. Although their use of echolocation is so habitual that they usually primarily perceive the distance and location of the object, not the timing of the echo, I expect they would be able to be aware of the timing of the echo if they pay attention to it. This makes it likely that they would develop a concept of the speed of sound, and would be able to associate echo-times with distances. Since distances are easier to measure than times, it would be easy to speak about brief times in terms of the distance that echo-time corresponds to.
I was thinking about timekeeping in my blind society, and that got me thinking about the basic ideas of timekeeping in general. Here are some thoughts.

Natural cycles
The most basic foundations of timekeeping come from observation of repeating natural cycles. The most significant of these are the day and year - on most parts of the earth, it would be hard not to notice the repeated daily and yearly cycles. Less obvious, but still easy to notice, is the cycle of lunar phases. There are other cycles, but those three are the ones that most commonly play a role in timekeeping around the world. Part of observing a cycle is observing different phases and points within the cycle. For the daily cycle, this includes such things as day vs. night, sunrise and sunset, noon, morning and evening. For the yearly cycle, this includes, on the most basic level of observation, seasons as reflected in weather and temperature and plant life; on a more complex level of observation, it includes such things as solstices and equinoxes. For the lunar cycle, this most basically includes lunar phases. Without observing the differences within the cycle, you don't have observations of a cycle.

Sequences of cycles
Cycles inherently repeat. Day follows day, (lunar) month follows month, year follows year. There are a few things you can do with this. You can count them linearly from some designated starting point - for example, counting years from an era start date, whether that's A.D. or a king's reign, or anything else. You can group a certain amount of them into a larger repeating cycle, as days are grouped into a week; the number of smaller cycles in the larger cycle may be arbitrary. Once you have smaller cycles grouped into a larger cycle, you do a few things. You can define a start point for the larger cycle and count smaller cycles from that start point - for example, counting the first through seventh days of the week, and then back to the first day. You can also name the smaller cycles within the larger cycle, like the names of the days of the week; a sequence of names need not have a starting point (compare how the first day of the week is variably considered to be Sunday or Monday; both are essentially arbitrary, and it would be quite possible to have a week without considering any day to be first).

Subdivisions of cycles
As mentioned above, natural cycles naturally have inherent subparts. Artificial cycles made of groups of natural cycles also have inherent subparts - the natural cycles that form their units. But cycles (natural or artificial) can also be dividied into non-inherent units. The subdivision of days into hours (and minutes and seconds) is such a division. These artificial units within a cycle can be numbered or named in just the same way as natural cycles that form units within longer cycles.

Reconciling cycles
Naturally defined cycles usually have no inherent relationship between their lengths, and this is true for the main cycles that form the basis of Earth timekeeping. Days and (lunar) months and years run independently, and a system of strictly observational timekeeping would have to reckon them largely independently (though you could remain essentially observational but still count or name smaller from a starting point defined in a larger unit - for example, the fifth day after the full moon, or the second month after the summer solstice). But it's natural to try to apply to these cycles the principles of grouping smaller cycles into larger ones / subdividing larger cycles into smaller units (you can look at it from either angle, since in this case both the smaller and larger units are given). If you do this, you run into a problem: the lengths don't match. There aren't an even number of months or days in a year. There aren't an even number of days in a month. There are all sorts of compromises to work with this issue. Consider months in a year: you can let either your year or your month get out of sync with its natural basis. The Julian (and subsequently Gregorian) calendars attempt to keep the year in sync, but define months in a way that no longer corresponds to the lunar month. The Islamic calendar keeps months in sync with lunar months, but lets the year get out of sync. The Chinese calendar keeps months in sync, and keeps years roughly in sync by adding intercalary months when needed. The daily cycle is fundamental enough to human life (at least in non-polar regions) that calendars don't let days get out of sync, so reconciling day lengths with year or month lengths normally involves either desynchronization of the year/month, or intercalation.

Coexisting cycles of different lengths
Some calendars have cycles of different sizes built of the same units that run alongside each other. In the Julian/Gregorian calendar, months and weeks are sort of like this, although it's a bit of a weird example because months don't have constant length. A better example is probably the Mayan calendar (and other Mesoamerican calendars), which has a 20-day cycle that ran alongside a 13-day cycle; these two cycles resynchronize to the same point every 260 days (20*13). This 260 day period is thus a repeating cycle of its own. Similarly, the Akan calendar has a 6-day week and a 7-day week that run alongside each other, which create a longer cycle of 42 days (6*7).

I think those are the core ideas of timekeeping, at least on a calendar scale; I haven't talked or thought much about timekeeping on a scale smaller than days.
In my first major post about my all-blind society, I talked about possibilities for metalworking, and decided that bronzeworking seemed plausible but ironworking didn't really. For that, though, I was only really thinking about the last stage of the metallurgy process - how you turn bronze or iron into a finished object. To really make use of metal, you need more than that - you have to get the metal in the first place.

Native metal vs. ore )

So, considerations of potential metals for use:
Iron:
Ore is abundant, but possibly hard to identify.
Blacksmithing iron is probably not plausible without vision - requires precise aim at objects too hot to touch.
Needs extremely hot temperatures for casting - likely not plausible.
Meteoric iron is easily findable if you're lucky enough to have a good large meteorite around.
Meteoric iron can to some degree be worked cold. Hitting cold objects that you can feel ahead of time to get a spatial model seems more plausible than blacksmithing.

Copper:
Ore is reasonably common, but possibly hard to identify.
Native copper does occur, and is probably easy to recognize, but possibly hard to find.
Can be cast at reasonably accessible temperatures - a technique that seems plausible without vision.
Can also be worked cold, through hammering and annealing.
Not very strong when not alloyed to make bronze, but still strong enough to be useful for tool-making.

Bronze:
Needs tin (or some other metals, but tin is preferable) as well as copper.
Tin ore is not very common, and also may be hard to identify.
Stronger than copper.

Gold, silver, electrum:
May be around in native format, but what would you use them for if you weren't using them for their appearance in decorative objects?

Lead:
I'm kind of ignoring it, but maybe I shouldn't. It needs ore identification, though, since it doesn't often occur native. It's relatively easy to extract. It melts at a rather low temperature, which is convenient. Of course it creates health issues, which may not be recognized.

I think I am going to say that they do not have access to tin, and therefore do not have bronze. And I don't think they make use of ores. However, I think I will say that they have a large iron meteorite, which they use for cold-worked tools. And there is native copper around, if they can find it; they probably find at least some of it, though I'm not sure in how great of quantities. They likely cast copper as well as cold-work it. But they likely still use stone tools as well.

It may be that this is only in the early period of their society, and that at some point they do figure out how to identify and smelt ores. I think they still won't have access to tin, though.
I wrote this in a post on [personal profile] steorra, and since this bit is about Domil, I'll repost it here:

For a long time, I've had the idea that one of the societies in my imaginary world has a kind of committed friendship that is formalized with a ceremony; the people involved are called 'bound friends'. ('Bound' doesn't have very good connotations in English, but this is probably a translation from a conlang where the connotations are different.) I don't think I ever worked out completely what this relationship committed the members to. I believe it would exclude the possibility of marriage between the friends. I know that I always imagined there being rules about the relationship between marriage and bound friendship; at the least, a marriage did not dissolve a bound friendship, but if you were married, you needed your spouse's permission in order to enter into a new bound friendship. (I may have had more worked out than that, but that's what I remember right now, and I don't seem to have written anything down about it, so if I want to develop it further I'll have to work it out again.)

I wonder when I developed that idea. Probably late Sunshine Coast days, possibly UBC days, but it feels probably pre-UBC.

Old poem

Jul. 28th, 2011 08:43 pm
recall
with their gorgeous apparatus
and whispered chant
they manipulate our dreams

Background )
An article by a blind mother about things she did to help her blind baby learn about the world. Relevant for thinking about how children would learn about the world in an all-blind society.

From the same site:
Beyond City Sidewalks: The Blind Traveler in a Rural Environment. Relevant for thinking about navigation skills in a non-urbanized society. Talks about cane navigation in long grass, using the feel of the sun for orientation, sound cues from things like wind chimes, etc.
There's an island on Domil - a fairly large island, perhaps comparable in size to Ireland, perhaps not that big - where the whole population is totally colourblind. Most of the population is made up of rod monochomats (people who have only rods, no cones, in their eyes). I've long wanted to arrange it so that some families on the less-accessible northern coast of the island are (or contain) blue cone monochromats (people who have rods and blue cones in their eyes, but can't perceive colour since they don't have contrasting varieties of cones. [1])

However, I've never been sure whether it would be genetically plausible to have both those varieties of colourblindness in a population without also having some people with colour vision. The other day I found out a little more about the genetics of colourblindness. (I don't know very much about genetics, so I may use terminology wrongly or make other mistakes. Please correct me if so, especially if I'm making mistakes that will change the effects of genetics on my world.)

According to this page, rod monochromacy is autosomal recessive, encoded either on chromosome 2 or chromosome 8. I'll make the simplifying assumption that only one location is active in the population I'm working with. Recessive is good, because that means that in a population where everyone has the trait, then everyone has only the gene variant that causes the trait. (If the colourblindness gene variant were dominant, then there'd be a recessive colour vision gene variant that could be floating around in a population even when everyone had the coloublindness trait, and then colour vision could pop up in a subsequent generation.)

According to the same page, blue cone monochromacy (lacking both red and green cones) is an X-linked (recessive) trait just as the two basic kinds of red-green colourblindness are (red cone lack/diminished function and green cone lack/diminished function). Another page from the same site discusses in more detail how this works for red-green colourblindness, and so by extension for blue cone monochromacy. This also works out so that if the whole population has the trait, then everyone has only the gene variant that causes the trait.
This gets long )

[1] Actually, blue cone monochromats may have a very small amount of colour perception based on the difference in wavelengths to which rods and blue cones are sensitive, especially around twilight. But it's very small, and I'm guessing it's minor enough that a vocabulary for these colours would likely not be developed.
In my introductory post, I mentioned my main imaginary world, which I'm calling Domil, though that is not necessarily a permanent name. In this post, I'll give a bit of an overview of some of the basic characteristics of Domil.

Domil is in many ways an earth equivalent. It is astronomically equivalent to earth - equivalent sun, same size, same orbital and rotational periods, same axial tilt, same size moon with same orbital and rotational periods. It has many of the same types of life - plant and animal - as earth, but also some different ones. I currently have a map only of a roughly Europe-sized portion of it, so there's plenty more world that I know essentially nothing about. However, the geological and biological history of Domil are probably not earth-like, even if they have earth-equivalent results.

In Domil there are several varieties of hnau. The ones I'm currently certain of are are Humans, Great Eagles, and a group of little people that I need a current working name for; at one time my working name for them was Tree People and I guess I can stick with that for the time being.

Humans are humans. There's nothing that particularly distinguishes them from real-world humans.

Great Eagles are eagles that are considerably larger than the largerst real-world eagles. I worked out a size estimate for them once, but I don't have it handy, and I may very well end up re-evaluating it. (Argentavis, a prehistoric bird variety that represents the largest known flying bird, may be a useful piece of data in determining plausible sizes. Also Haast's Eagle, an extinct species of eagle from New Zealand that's the largest eagle known to have existed - much much smaller than Argentavis.) One mental difference they have from humans is that they don't have hot emotions, only cool/cold emotions. They have a vocal language, but their vocal apparatus is sufficiently different from humans that they cannot reproduce the sounds of human language, and humans cannot reproduce the sounds of their language.

Tree People are humanoid, but are only about 6 or 7 inches tall. Unlike humans, they lay eggs and hatch from eggs. Their lifespans are considerably shorter than humans; they reach maturity at age 5 and live until about 20. They have squirrels as domestic animals; I haven't determined yet whether it's plausible that they ride squirrels, or only use them as pack animals. They keep a kind of spider from which they harvest spider silk and use it to spin and weave a very fine mostly-transparent waterproof cloth which is highly valued by humans.
One set of questions I've been asking about my imaginary blind society is:
a) At what point in technological/societal history did they branch off from a sighted society?
b) How do they get their food?
c) What kind of tool production do they have?

I've been thinking about prehistorical stages and whether they could plausibly have branched off at any of these.

Could they plausibly have started off with a stone-age hunter-gatherer society? I think tentatively yes. I can imagine that making stone tools might be possible without vision. There are two basic techniques involved, striking and pressure-flaking. Striking requires aim, but a combination of proprioceptive/tactile memory and echolocation might be enough. I suspect that pressure-flaking could be done on a purely tactile basis. (I've actually tried a bit of pressure-flaking at a flint knap-in event once - of course it was just a first attempt so I wasn't any good at it, but I have at least some idea of what's involved.) Okay, so let's say stone tools are possible. What about the hunter-gatherer aspect? Trapping and fishing seems highly plausible to me, but more active hunting seems more questionable. Hunter-gatherer societies are typically nomadic, but I don't think that needs to be an obstacle.

But they don't need to be a hunter-gatherer society. Some degree of farming seems pretty clearly possible. The simplest seems like vegetable-garden type farming. That's only a small step away from gathering - you plant the plants you'd gather in an easily available place so you have ready access to them when you want them, and you get rid of the plants you don't want so that the ones you do want can grow unimpeded. And it can be done with only human labour. What about staple crops? Do they grow grain? Root vegetables? Root vegetables fit more easily in a vegetable gardening pattern; grain farming usually involves labour animals. I'd need to do some more research to find out about how necessary labour animals are for grain farming. (What's the relative chronology of horse/cattle domestication and grain farming in the Neolithic Revolution?)

And that brings up the question of whether they have domestic animals and if so, of what sorts. It's easiest for me to imagine that they have small domestic animals - chickens, ducks, rabbits, honeybees. I'm sceptical about the practicalities of taming and managing large domestic animals - sheep, goats, cattle, horses, pigs, etc. - without being able to see. But I would gladly be persuaded that it's possible. Dogs are also something to consider. Potentially very useful - but feral dogs could be a problem.

Their technology also doesn't necessarily have to be merely stone-age. What about bronze/copper or iron/steel tools? One thing worth noting about historical technological development is that bronze tools were largely cast, while iron tools were largely blacksmithed, partly because the temperature needed to melt iron for casting is so high. I find casting more plausible than blacksmithing; with casting, you can make a mold by touch, then pour in the hot metal. With blacksmithing, you have to aim your hammer precisely at an object that's too hot to touch. Such aim seems difficult to achieve, especially when the object is so hot that you can't touch it to figure out details of its shape and location. So I am going to suppose that they have cast bronze/copper tools, but not blacksmithed iron tools. At some point they may develop furnaces hot enough to make cast iron.

So, current working assumption: small domestic animals used for meat, eggs, honey, skins, feathers. Garden-type farming, possibly including some grain farming. Trapping and fishing as well. No dogs or large domestic animals until I conclude that they're feasible. Bronze/copper tools, and possibly still stone tools. Could have separated from sighted society anywhere from stone-age hunter-gatherer society through bronze-age agricultural society.

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