July 2023
July 2nd
We report in the evening - the sky is bright but it is even late in the evening. The sun is at an angle, and the low light is grazing the tall grass, catching twigs and stray bugs in its beams. The temperature is already steadily dropping while the humidity rises.
July 1st
We report: now, July. Not that we would know if we had not been told, as the days are long but these days, not all that warm. Especially during the Summer, we have to reconsider what we know about the seasons, what we remember, and what we hear the days of summer are like.
July 4th
We report that for some reason, it seems strange that the stars would be shining when it is raining at night. We do not take such issues with rain and blue sky mixing during the day. There we are, though, looking up and squinting against raindrops to peer at the starry sky.
July 3rd
We report: not a hint of a storm, not quite rainy, even, but enough humidity to make our hair frustratingly frizzy. And out there that we can see, the sky and the ocean are both washed out, barely a drop of ink in the mix to make up the suggestion of a horizon, and that is it.
July 5th
We report: there are things that we do not learn about just so that our expert can keep telling us about it. Our expert is very patient; they explain things with new words every time, and they say "but tomorrow, it will be different again" and "be there for the sunrise, too".
July 7th
We report: the sky was a perfect blue all over when these clouds came in, looking a little strange and busy. We inspected them from every angle we could, which was, incidentally, not many (from underneath, mostly), and then they vanished. We did not see them go over the horizon.
July 6th
We report a number of clouds, stacked very messily on top of one another - no order or logic to it that we can make out. If it were up to us, we would at the very least consider shapes, sizes, or perhaps both. They are moving at a sluggish pace, in a way that is also disorderly.
July 11th
We report: though there is wind, the rain is so heavy that it is falling straight down, and the white hiss of it is steady and loud in our ears. There is already a stream running straight down the middle of the path where there is a deep groove from the many rains that came before.
July 8th
We report, after countless shades of blue, a little bit of morning. In this space, the way the air was and the dim light, the early morning sounds were enough for us to invent a whole world in our head. It was just for us, lasted only until the full daylight shook it off us.
July 9th
We report the brightest sunset we have seen in a while, and the birds are flying very high, in such a way that we can hear their songs echoing much further than we usually would. The sun is spinning away from us, and yet we feel serene about the precious time we had today.
July 21st
We report: we saw a rabbit hop across the field earlier, but our expert does not believe us. We have been arguing in whispers, just in case another animal would show up; we hardly noticed as the sunset came and went. There are only a few clouds that the sun is still reaching now.
July 10th
We report about watching clouds go by and their shadows running across the fields; about stepping in and out of those shadows as they move, following them, sometimes walking ahead of them. On top of a hill, we are surprised to notice that the clouds are still not within reach.
July 12th
We report: seabirds are diving in and out of the water in the chilly, salty morning air. The wind is breaking the waves, seafoam lilac from the pre-dawn light. The smell here and now is indescribable; the ocean, but also something deeply treasured that brings tears to our eyes.
July 13th
We report: before this moment, when we looked up, the clouds were white and flat, one brush stroke in the blue sky. And then after that, they were grey, mostly fading into the twilight blue. But at this very specific time, the whole architecture revealed itself in the light.
July 14th
We report about mid-July and the pond where we went swimming, about the sweltering heat and the rainy morning; the drowsy afternoons behind which low thunder trails. This is not yet a full storm, but we are pretty sure that we know what will soon become of the sky.
July 15th
We report: this is the slow expansion of air and water, just as fascinating as it ever is. It is difficult to explain: a picture does not convey how those big masses move, change shapes in space, and how the wind does all that. It does not show how small they make us feel.
July 16th
We report a little rain on a small morning. Everything a little small today, some owls in the distance very far, the tiny birds on phone lines still a bit quiet. The rain is dim and silent, catches on our expert's hair like a crown of minuscule pearls. The only colour is blue.
July 17th
We report: cold day in July, wearing clothes we had not planned to wear again until late September. We remember these kinds of days from our childhood, when the fog would rise from the sea in the mid-afternoon, and tourists would freeze on the beach. The sun shows up as it sets.
July 18th
We report from the right spot to see the sky whole; they escape us, always, the shapes that we had begun to understand. Some of them change, and some of them disappear over the horizon. The clouds move in layers, or waves. The ones higher up seem to stay still. We get confused.
July 19th
We report: if a storm wraps around the sky like this, huge and silent, we first think "this is beautiful" before "this is scary". There is certainly a lack of self-preservation in this. We are plunged into obscurity and the blanket of clouds starts moving onto us. We drive away.
July 20th
We report late at night, when the wind suddenly rose. The sound of the branches whining and the rustling leaves is drowning out the crickets and the mosquitoes. The clouds are rushing fast across the sky, trying to swallow the stars, but we can still see many of them clearly.
July 22nd
We report getting lost in the slow-moving sky today. It must be cold up there, must be freezing. Every movement that a cloud makes stays engraved in the blue of the sky, tentative curls and dotted freckles that stay unmoving, though it is windy down here. We have a long way home.
July 23rd
We report: a leaden sky, very upfront with the sort of weather it is bringing here. When the rain starts falling, we know that it won't stop anytime soon; and when it starts falling, it is immediately a wall of rain, to the point it is hard to see in front of us.
July 24th
We report about the waxing moon setting with Spica as a companion, the brightest object in the constellation of Virgo. Spica is a system of two blue stars that are bound together so closely that they look like a single, ellipsoid-shaped star - but just a little dot from here.
July 25th
We report: the warm notes of the sun are remaining suspended in the air tonight. It is late, and the sunset is well underway; the streets are quiet, so it feels a little bit solemn, to witness the day going out like this. Counting down the last few moments of light.
July 26th
We report as we see August on the horizon: the grass that was cut has turned yellow while the trees remain all shades of green. The sun is slowly moving across the fields, and the clouds are disappearing one after the other when they pass above us.
July 27th
We report: we got woken up by the rain drumming against the window when the wind does not usually blow that way. And as we drew the curtains open, a lightning bolt appeared, and almost right after, thunder clapped. It was a loud, precise sound, followed by a long rumble.
July 28th
We report about this narrow segment of the shoreline, it starts here and ends there and we have been studying it for some time now. As it slowly retreats into the ocean, it draws lines in the sand - the same ones that will vanish when the tide goes in during the night.
July 29th
We report: it is something strange, to never be able to predict the colours that will appear in the sky. There can be a lot of guesswork done, from knowing where the sun will be, and if there are clouds and dust in the sky - but the exact shades, we never know, we never do.
July 30th
We report about clouds that we have seen in many paintings before. Long and thin, something timeless about them; appeared out of nowhere and we know that we will not see them disappear. It just seems like they have always been there, that they feel right being in the blue sky.
July 31st
We report: it is dark, windy and dry out today. We were walking in the shade for a long time, but when the sky opened up, we got warm very fast. We feel as though we have been walking in Summer forever, and on the last day of July, we wonder if a storm could clear it all out.