July 2020
July 2nd
We report gull dinner time on an endlessly cloudy day; water splashing around, this salty smell in the air, the sound of wings fluttering, and birds shrieking.
July 1st
We report standing still and watching clouds moving, expanding, filling their part in the water phase diagram, reflecting shortwave light and ultraviolet energy back to space. We wish you a good day.
July 4th
We report secret cloud-watching spots. Oh, but is it still a secret if we show it to you?
July 3rd
We report: blue sky, at last. Good; we've got laundry to do, this weekend.
July 5th
We report wide open fields, and the sky, washed out by quick and sharp winds.
July 7th
We report occasionally staring in awe at the sky, thinking that if we ever attempted to paint it, nobody would believe we had really seen something that looked like this.
July 6th
We report catching glimpses of darker skies at the edge of the city, where stars hide in silence.
July 11th
We report: it's late and far into the night, no way forward and no turning back, but somehow, light still reaches us.
July 8th
We report, bright and early, the lingering cold of the past night biting our cheeks, and humidity seeping through summer jackets.
July 9th
We report night in full daylight, our eyes catching the Sun in quick glimpses as it disappears behind the clouds.
July 21st
We report, today, in the wild: cirrocumulus floccus, cirrus uncinus, cirrus spissatus. Our favourites.
July 10th
We report the Sun nestled in the trees, setting fire to the air; good days ahead.
July 12th
We report: right at the end of a rain shower. A few drops falling still; our expert is looking for the name of the smell that has emerged from the sun-drenched ground when it started raining. Petri-something, was it?
July 13th
We report calm waters. This should facilitate finding our way back. Since we're lost. Because our expert didn't pay attention to where we were going. But since they're an expert, it shouldn't be too difficult. Right?... Right.
July 14th
We report: if you like wishing on stars, this one should count for about three wishes more than usual, according to our expert.
July 15th
We report internal debates about cloud edibility. Can we eat the clouds? Can we?
July 16th
We report deafening quiet; even the clouds seem to be standing still. There's no telling what could disturb such calm.
July 17th
We report heavy, heavy skies; we may not be properly equipped to catch them when they fall, but we shall try.
July 18th
We report: empty skies all day, an infinite expanse of blue, but as the sun shoots for the horizon, warm air is rising and condensing. Clouds appear and fill the immensity. What a trip.
July 19th
We report that we do not know how we got so high up, but we would really like to get down now. No matter how cool this view is. Listen, we are not ungrateful, we just have a fear of heights.
July 20th
We report a long night ahead - we are starting to notice earlier sunsets and later sunrises, day by day.
July 22nd
We report: in between long, unsympathetic waves of warmth, we have gotten a hint of something different; the sky brought lower, so much so we thought we could reach out and capture clouds. The Sun was kept hidden all day, and we curiously did not miss it.
July 23rd
We report that we are maybe a bit too heavy-handed on the ocean analogies when describing the sky, but this wave a-coming looks like it might bring nice things with it.
July 24th
We report: a long way from home.
July 25th
We report an inspiring view. Indeed, we feel inspired to take our umbrellas out of our backpacks. Our expert calls it their expert instinct, we call it common sense.
July 26th
We report competition for the stars.
July 27th
We report endless games of lights and shadows on a bright day; the Sun will find us eventually.
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.
July 29th
We report; just as we had lost hope for light after the sunset, noctulescent clouds in the astronomical twilight.
July 30th
We report: caught in a dry and hot day, our eyes stinging from bright reflections on the sea. A summer day.
July 31st
We report: the thunderstorm is just starting to move away, after being very angry over our heads. We have advised the thunderstorm that it would do well to try anger management methods; our expert figures there's only so much we can do to help.