June 2021
June 2nd
We report sunlight vacillating on a day when the clouds took up most of the sky. Today, we did not look for the Sun as much as it took us by surprise, time and time again, as we noticed light spill out on the floor, through leaves and thin clouds, in between showers.
June 1st
We report: not enough stars that we cannot count them, but enough of them that we are able to let ourselves think of the ones that we cannot see. The night is chilly, but as it happens sometimes, we do not mind shivering in the dark for a bit while our mind wanders.
June 4th
We report cirrus intortus foaming away in high-altitude winds, while down here, the air is still, dry, and warm. We walk dusty paths and blink at the white Sun.
June 3rd
We report that altocumulus clouds have been building up all day, thick and opaque; the humidity rate is 87%, the atmospheric pressure is 1022 hectopascal, and the average temperature is 13°C. We are expecting rain, given that we just felt a few raindrops on our hands.
June 5th
We report: a spot of mother of pearl spread out in the blue sky for a brief moment as a cloud covered the Sun. We gawked for an embarrassingly long amount of time, entranced by the show of colours.
June 7th
We report that we woke up to beating rain in the smallest hours of the morning; it kept on pouring for a long time, but as the Sun rose, the clouds parted and let some golden light shine through the last sheets of rain.
June 6th
We report a sky full of different weathers, some parts covered in rain clouds, some others cast in yellow light; some tumultuous, and others peaceful. We have trouble finding a single descriptor for this weather.
June 11th
We report, during those moments of the night when time does not seem to matter as much, we let our eyes swallow all the darkness for so long that only stars remained. And though the clouds kept on speeding across the sky, the bright dust in suspension behind them stayed the same.
June 8th
We report: the evenings stretch out for so long these days. The course of the Sun is high in the sky all day long, and comes to pass behind the horizon reluctantly as though it wanted to stay even longer. We watch sunsets with a sense of closure that is unique to this season.
June 9th
We report, in the warm smells and the embrace of the green, there was no shame in sitting and watching, in sitting, and watching. It was right, to be next to those who sing and those who crawl and to be a little bit of them too, though we had forgotten how to.
June 21st
We report, there was a time when our gaze would not cling anywhere, and days would blur past us, or perhaps we would blur past the days. Today, on the slowest day of the year, we move at half speed and linger wherever we can. We turned every clock over. First summer day.
June 10th
We report: was it the Moon? Was it the Sun? Our expert tells us that it was both, one on top of the other, which is something we have a hard time conceptualising. Nonetheless, we have learned that our hard times grasping concepts does not make them any less real.
June 12th
We report: it is already past our bedtime, and the Sun is still just above the horizon. This perspective is bewildering, and we are somewhat eager to get past the solstice. What are we supposed to do with such long days? Our expert and we would rather sleep longer.
June 13th
We report sunbeams filtering through the clouds, looking like a shower of light coming down. The clouds have been hanging low and heavy for a long while now, and are only just about tearing open, and so we are welcoming the light.
June 14th
We report: the Sun got us drunk on its shimmers; we stumbled through the short shadows of high noon on the hot ground. The sky was the sort of blue that we have a hard time naming (sky blue, yes, but which one?).
June 15th
We report: blue skies all day, high temperatures, and then the air got humid in the low light and we shrugged on a sweater as we followed the path back home. There is not a whisper of wind; in the stillness of the early night, everything smells sweeter and lighter.
June 16th
We report heavy clouds, but they are moving so fast. We want more time to watch them, more clouds, more everything. We want the sun and the rain, the night and the day, we are avid and we want it all, for ourselves, for the ones we love. It is everything to us.
June 17th
We report altocumulus all light and blurry, a sign neither of good nor bad weather that we can tell. They might dissipate soon, wither away in the wind, or they might bunch up together, build up until they are thick and opaque. And meanwhile, we could be having dinner. Who knows?
June 18th
We report: we stopped for gas just outside the city, and ended up loitering in the empty parking lot for as long as the setting Sun hit the clouds at that specific angle. That moment could have lasted seconds or hours; we were not in any hurry, and so we did not care to check.
June 19th
We report a lacunosus formation spun like a web in the sky. There were mere minutes for which the formation appeared clearly, until it shifted again and the clouds blurred together as the rain started falling.
June 20th
We report: we walked around these parts last Winter, and the land that stretched out ahead was all browns and pale greens; today, the Sun is warm, there are birds singing everywhere, and we remind ourselves of the cyclicality of all things. We will come back in Autumn.
June 22nd
We report yet another game of hide and seek on this misty evening. As per usual, the Moon does most of the hiding, and we do most of the seeking; we also seem to lose night after night. It is one of the games we do not really mind losing, though.
June 23rd
We report: here, the weather has been exceptionally warm for days, building up to a boiling point. The clouds are starting to form unusual shapes, a certain sign of unrest in the atmosphere, and we know that we will get to witness the pot overflowing.
June 24th
We report that we have been tracking a single raindrop for months now, from the sky to the mud, to a mountain stream, and then a river and a bigger river, and then to the ocean. The Sun has been shining bright today, and we just witnessed that single raindrop evaporating again.
June 25th
We report: there are days when it is easy to remember what is worth living, when it seems that the whole world is attempting to make us understand why we get up every day; we keep those days to ourselves for the days when our memory is hazy and the meaning of things escapes us.
June 26th
We report a blue hour that feels like it is made out of rain entirely, heavy and dense though we manage to peer through the clouds. There is a long road ahead and an even longer road behind; if the rain hits while we are still driving, we will just keep going.
June 27th
We report: it is a windy, though rather warm day; long low-pitched whistles that never seem to come up for air are sweeping the beach. There is sand flying everywhere, and the air we breathe is briny and dry.
June 28th
We report many short showers, buckets of rain at a time, thunder, and then nothing; we stood in between the raindrops. The air was clean and smelled of petrichor.
June 29th
We report: cirrus are usually so flimsy, thin translucent veils in blue skies; the lights of the sunset make them look solid like they are holding the sky together.
June 30th
We report: the Sun is long gone and we are ready to let the day end, and yet those clouds are quivering in its light. We are sitting with the sounds of the crickets and the frogs, waiting for the curtain to fall.