December 2021
December 2nd
We report: there is some light dripping down from over the clouds, moving along the places where they open up. Today, the weather has been ever-changing, and this is a lull in between showers. The wind is picking up again, and we wonder how long we have until it starts raining.
December 1st
We report a humid night in the city. The sky is catching all the lights and has remained a strange mix of grey and purple since the sunset. There is a light drizzle going on. It is time to go home and get some rest.
December 4th
We report lenticularis over the mountains. Stationary clouds remind us of ships on a windless sea; we keep expecting them to float along elsewhere, but they are tethered to this specific part of the sky, and now so are we as we watch them.
December 3rd
We report: "lonely as a cloud", he said, but these days we notice how the wind brings clouds together, how they embrace one another and somehow become one. There was a storm coming or leaving today; the clouds kept rising and blooming in a beautiful way.
December 5th
We report: it is morning now, and the morning is so harsh at times. We used to feel so sad at dawn, perhaps in a contradictory sort of emotion; things ending and beginning, and the melancholia that comes with those. These days, it gets easier to deal with the passage of time.
December 7th
We report, today, it is windy-windy; our words get swallowed back as soon as we speak them, and it is almost hard to breathe when we face the wind. Some trees have lost their last leaves, and our expert is holding on to their hat.
December 6th
We report: it had been raining hard all day, the sky low and opaque. The air remained humid throughout the late afternoon but at some point, the clouds cleared out. It was already dark, and the moon rose among the stars.
December 11th
We report an exceptionally bright sky for this December day. The quiet flock of altocumulus in the pale blue made us think that today was never going to end - and even when it ended, we felt like some of the blue might have rubbed off on us, etched there to last the winter.
December 8th
We report: it is true that it is cold today, and it is also true that we embrace things differently in the cold. We bought our first oranges of the season and we looked at the Sun through one of the slices. The acidity of the oranges cut through the frozen air, bold and bright.
December 9th
We report a storm system with capillatus that is still expanding over us; we keep trying to tilt our heads to see how it would look upside down. We get the impression of some waves crashing down in an excruciatingly slow movement.
December 21st
We report: it is the first day of astronomical Winter. When we woke up this morning, the bedroom was cold, and some puddles outside were frozen. Winter has already been there for a little while, but we are imagining that we can find a different smell in the air today.
December 10th
We report: auroras are silent phenomenons, but we always hear some sort of a symphony rise up inside of us when we watch them. We are thinking about the solar wind, and all these things moving around us that we usually cannot see.
December 12th
We report: this is like a very small portion of the sky in which we are seeing the Sun rise. It is otherwise raining, which is also a nice thing in itself, but the colours there are making it seem like it is much warmer than it actually is.
December 13th
We report: it is our understanding that the sky was too full of clouds, to the extent that it had to drop a few of them over the mountains. We, down there, have been experiencing all manners of spillovers; fog, rain, hail, and snow, to name a few.
December 14th
We report that we are diving right into the night ocean - minute after minute, we go deeper and the sky grows darker. It is still early, but that is relative during the days leading up to the winter solstice. We think that we have been losing hours to the night.
December 15th
We report: we interrupt the course of your day or night to present this specific sky, at this specific time. What you will make of it is between you and yourself, and we profoundly respect that notion. With the hope that this interlude will have been a positive one, goodbye.
December 16th
We report that we come to the sea for the salt, we think. It is not all there is to it, but there is something about what it smells like, what it tastes like, and even what it feels like. It feels a little bit like having cried for a long time when we come back home.
December 17th
We report: we have barely seen the Sun lately. It seems that it will simply not rise very high over roofs and treetops, and so we stay in the shadows for most of our days. The solstice is just a few days away.
December 18th
We report that there is some weaving happening in the sky at the moment; it is hard to tell which thread came first, over and under which. The fabric it has formed seems flimsy at best, and the wind surely will scatter it all before long.
December 19th
We report: it is a cold night and the clouds keep passing over the Moon. Every few minutes, we start shivering and wondering whether it is truly worth it to stay out there, and then the clouds part and we get a glimpse of her. It is worth it, it seems.
December 20th
We report, today, there it was again, a storm. We live in intermissions sometimes, counting the days between storms like we keep waiting for them. This one filled up the sky like a drop of ink in a glass of water, fast and easy.
December 22nd
We report that there was some snow through the night, and then probably some rain. Everything froze over during the coldest hours, but now it is already starting to melt under the noon Sun. We would know more about what happened if our expert hadn't slept on the job.
December 23rd
We report: the fog stayed particularly low this morning, hovering over the sea and the harbour but never coming up high enough to reach the city. From the heights we stood on, we watched the clouds slowly get taken away by the wind.
December 24th
We report that the sky was more of everything today. So tall, deep, and blue; the wind was getting our eyes teary and the Sun was bright as can be at the beginning of winter. The clouds were passing by at the same speed we were walking, and we stayed in their company for a while.
December 25th
We report: oftentimes we keep track of the nightfall through quick glances at the window. The sky changes just fast enough that we can almost notice it turning bluer by the second, and the low light starts making us a little bit sleepy even though the afternoon is not over yet.
December 26th
We report that, sometimes, we walk the hills thinking about "billions of years ago, what was the landscape here?". This is not a question meant for an answer, we just think a lot more on days like these. Everything is grey and humid, and the sky is still. So our mind races.
December 27th
We report: there is something to the way birds are always going away in the cold, though we know that is not something to feel emotional about. They look very small up there in the sky, and we know they are leaving, and we wonder whether they will come back. We hope so.
July 28th
We report that this cloud has frozen mid-air - not today, rain! We keep a watchful eye in case it tries to pull a fast one on us.
December 29th
We report: however counterintuitive that may be, stargazing really is generally a better experience in the winter. The cold dry air is not as hazy as it gets in the summer. It is also our biased view that the best constellations come out during the winter months.
December 30th
We report the waves that crashed on the shore as we walked along the seaside today. There were many, strong enough to push and pull the biggest pebbles. The seafoam that climbed high on the beach was dense, and the sea birds kept poking around it for food.
December 31st
We report: we have heard from our expert that the year is ending today, which is understandable; this does seem like a good point in time to finish up. We hope that our planet will do a nice spin around the sun during this next year as well.