"THE DIMPLED DENOMINATOR" "How big were those hailstones?" You're tempted to ask. But sorting  conjecture Can prove quite a task: "Bigger than cannonballs," One  witness said. "Just like a cantaloupe." "Big as your head!" Those  frost-bitten stones, some With which we've been pelted, All seem to have "grown" some, As soon as they've melted. We needed a gizmo, A brand new  invention, To give all those hailstones A valid dimension. We finally mined one To use evermore. And when can you find one? Ten seconds past "Fore!"