Capillary length — where it appears
Named by 9 essays across one field — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
The skin that is not a skin
A drop of water behaves as though it were wrapped in a stretched membrane, and there is no membrane. What there is instead is an energy cost per unit of surface, and almost everything the apparent skin does follows from a liquid trying to have less of one.
How high water will climb
Water rises up a narrow tube against gravity, and the narrower the tube the higher it goes. The height is set by a curved surface pulling on a circumference while gravity pulls on an area, and the two scale differently — which is the whole of it.
The angle a liquid makes with what it sits on
Everything capillarity does — climbing, beading, wicking, waterproofing — is the sign and size of one cosine, and that cosine belongs to three interfaces at once rather than to the water. Change the solid and nothing about the water has changed, yet the same five microlitres goes from a footprint 2.61 mm across to one of 0.69 mm.
The column that is pulled, not pushed
A capillary fine enough to lift a hundred metres is far too fine to carry any flow, and one wide enough to carry the flow lifts under a metre. Neither is how the water gets up a tree. The column is under tension — an absolute pressure of −0.88 MPa at the top, which a gas cannot have — held together by cohesion and prevented from tearing by pores a few tens of nanometres across.
The balloon that leans the wrong way
When a car pulls away, everything loose in it swings back — except a helium balloon on a string, which swings forward. Nothing strange is acting on it. Buoyancy points against gravity, and inside an accelerating cabin gravity has a sideways part. Read that way, a lift cannot change how deep a boat floats, free fall abolishes floating altogether, and a centrifuge is Archimedes' principle with the word "up" pointing at the axis.
The cereal that gathers at the edge of the bowl
The last few pieces of cereal in a bowl of milk clump together and drift to the side of the bowl. Nothing is pulling on them but the milk's surface. Each floating piece bends the surface round itself, and a second piece sitting on that bend has somewhere to slide: like menisci attract, unlike menisci repel, and the reach of the force is a few capillary lengths, 2.7 millimetres for water. The arithmetic is the arithmetic of charged lines in two dimensions, screened by gravity, and it says why leaves gather on a pond, why bubbles on coffee drift to the cup's rim, and why particles smaller than about ten micrometres do not clump this way at all.
The water the dent displaces
A steel needle laid carefully on water floats, and the usual explanation is that surface tension holds it up instead of buoyancy, as though the two were rival mechanisms. They are not rivals. The needle presses a dent into the surface, and the upward pull of surface tension along its edges is exactly the weight of the water missing from that dent. Archimedes' principle holds without amendment: a floating needle displaces its own weight of water. Most of that water is simply not underneath it.
The bottle that pours at one rate however full it is
Water running from a hole in the foot of an open bottle slows as the bottle empties, because the pressure at the hole is the depth of water above it. Seal the bottle and push an open tube through the stopper, down into the water, and it stops slowing: the flow holds steady from full until the level reaches the bottom of the tube. Nothing regulates it. The tube's tip is the one point inside where the pressure is the atmosphere's, the water above it hangs from an air pocket below atmospheric, and the outlet sees only the height of the tip.
The surface whose thickness depends on the view
The surface of a glass of water looks like a perfect plane, and over most distances it nearly is. But it is at room temperature, and every ripple it could carry — from a few molecules long to a few millimetres — is shaken by heat with its own share of thermal energy. The ripples are tiny, a fraction of a nanometre high, and they add up in an odd way: every factor of ten in wavelength contributes the same amount of roughness. So the thickness of a water surface has no single value. It depends logarithmically on how large a patch is looked at, until gravity stops it at a few millimetres, and the X-ray measurements that report a third of a nanometre are reporting a property of their own resolution as much as of the water.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
Surface tensionContact angleHydrostatic pressureLaplace pressureCapillarityMeniscusWettingArchimedes principleBuoyancyIntermolecular forcesScalingSurface energy