March 2023
March 2nd
We report, in a place far away from other places (but close to some other places that we have gone to before as well), it is cold enough that it is snowing on the beach. Oftentimes, everything gets quiet when the snow starts piling up, but not here. The waves keep on crashing.
March 1st
We report: we walk into March, on the first day of meteorological Spring, with frost and ice in the air. The month of March, we remember, is fickle and bright, all loud chimes and brittle hail. The clouds are heavy but pass quickly, scattered to every corner of the sky.
March 4th
We report, as the long shadows disappear at the end of the day, we are starting to feel a little cold; the sky is separating into layers of light and colours. There are birds congregating nearby, and we can occasionally see them fly from tree to tree.
March 3rd
We report: morning - it is morning, and we are planning on going back to sleep. Not just yet; we are here for these few minutes when the clouds are just beginning to soak colours up. Back to sleep and we take these colours with us. Later: breakfast in the sun-drenched kitchen.
March 5th
We report: some clouds that we only saw because we were really looking for them - as you do when the sky is this blue and bright. We sat down to watch them for a while, but they moved very little and very slowly, never really changing shapes. So we left them be.
We report: full moon, half-eaten by clouds. Yesterday, when we saw a faint spot of light in the sky, we believed it to be a reflection on the window. Tonight, the moon is lighting up the whole sky, as though unwilling to let anyone fall asleep while it is bright and round.
March 6th
We report that it had already rained today when the sky became darker. In fact, we had already gotten several different types of rain; mist through the dawn, a drizzle as we sat down for lunch, a few showers in the afternoon, and now, as we look up, pouring rain, it seems.
March 11th
We report constellations that we do not recognise. This is not because this is a different sky than the one we know, but more so because we never really learned constellations. Thinking about it, this could actually be a very different sky and we would never even notice.
March 8th
We report that this far into the sunset, we think of the long voyage of light from the Sun to the Earth. 8 minutes and 20 seconds ago, the Sun was grazing the horizon, and we have to imagine that by now, it has fully set; but its light still reaches us. The cosmic time machine.
March 9th
We report a windy day, turbulence down here and up there. This is more of a windy week; the trees and the grass pushed and pulled through stormy weather, mountains and hills swept by spiralling airstreams. Today, in the blue sky, lenticular clouds formed above the hillside.
March 21st
We report at this exact moment right now: a cat is loudly meowing, a fire alarm has gone off without any fire being lit, a child has just tied their shoelaces without help for the first time, a rainbow has just appeared, and someone has dropped all their change on the ground.
March 10th
We report: more rain. In our eyes and in our ears and in our nose; inside our bags and shoes and socks, and then we take it home with us and it is all over the floor and the rug and the couch. We get our notebook from our coat pocket and all the writing is smudged into oblivion.
March 12th
We report: we have been here at times when the sky was heavier and fuller, and the sea was upset and loud. It made it a wholly different place. The cliffs were there, the sand was the same colour, looked the same where it met the waves, but we were somewhere else, this we know.
March 13th
We report in the sky today: the sun was high and there were birds, and when we looked up at the trees, there were buds on every branch. There was that green smell that is high, bright and light on the wind, just this side of sweet - the thing that got us to step outside today.
March 14th
We report: it has not stopped being cold here. We walk in the footsteps of someone who was here earlier this morning. It has snowed a little bit again since, and some of the tracks have been filled in. We are following a line of pollarded trees that creak in the cool wind.
March 15th
We report, pushing out into the sky, billions of water droplets suspended in the air; the low sun projecting light through all the layers of the atmosphere. The sunset will keep moving West while we sleep, until we meet it again tomorrow on our corner of our ever-spinning planet.
March 16th
We report: this is the way night falls behind the rain. The thick clouds blot the darkness until it has seeped into every layer of the sky, and on this night of nights, the blue descends. It is not a blue that ever appears at any other time or place, dusk through clouds.
March 17th
We report enough wind that chimney smoke decidedly drifts out and away from where it came from - and thus, the clouds too, decidedly and swiftly move on from our bit of sky. There is a lot we should be doing today, but we cannot seem to move as quickly as everything around us.
March 18th
We report: the afternoon sky got darker in just a few minutes, and as the clouds pooled, dense and thick, the birds got more agitated. We could not make sense of where they were going, but we think we can understand where they are coming from.
March 19th
We report a lot of activity in the sky at this late hour. We were about to fall asleep when we heard the first clap of thunder. We did not get up until much later, but from our bed, we could see the sky illuminated with every flash of lightning.
March 20th
We report: today, the sunrise chased out the ghost of the past night in the blink of an eye. Long do we linger at the edge of the dark - usually, but this morning, the sky was this bright, and though the colours faded, they tinted our mind's eye throughout the rest of the day.
March 22nd
We report: we remember learning about continental drift a very long time ago, and sometimes when we look up at the clouds moving away from and into one another, it looks a little bit like that. The time and size scales are just slightly different, maybe.
March 23rd - 7 AM
We report that we just left home, and as we slowly come out of Earth's shadow, a light drizzle falls. Pre-dawn blue mixes with the pink of the sunrise like watercolours, and lilac light bathes this damp morning. We almost skid across a puddle we had missed, too busy looking up.
March 23rd - 12 PM
We report: noon, and the sun has not been seen yet. The rain has stopped, but the clouds still seem heavy, and we can see sheets of water hanging over the horizon. There is a different type of quiet today; young leaves are still dripping with rainwater.
March 23rd - 3 PM
We report: after the rain, the wind veered and rose, and the sky slowly cleared up. The clouds that remained were low enough in the sky that they could not come anywhere near the sun. The wind was still blowing, strong and cold, but the sun was hot on the back of our head.
March 23rd - 7 PM
We report a sunset golden and misty, the sun going down behind long veils of orange and yellow. Earlier in the afternoon, the sun had warmed the air a little bit, but as soon as it started setting, we felt a chill in the breeze. The puddles of the morning rain glow on the path.
March 23rd - 10 PM
We report: today, as we were busy eating, and breathing, and thinking, a lot happened and we noticed only a fraction of it. We try, though, to grasp more of the world every day; but for now, good night in the stars, and good night down here. May the world remain until we wake up.
March 24th
We report: we are doing something that we have said time and time again we should not do. You might be correct in your guess; we are staring at the sun. To be fair, hail is falling right now, and the sun is right here, stubborn presence under the heavy clouds, so we have to look.
March 25th
We report a windy day such as we get in spring, when the weather is truly changing, not just a little of blue followed by a little grey; different days, all crammed into one, all smelling and sounding differently. And the sun remains throughout, steady and bright in between.
March 26th
We report: sunrise, and there is pink in our glass of water. We think that if we drink it, it will maybe become ours. Now the mornings are still crisp, but not in a way that the cold will crawl under our skin and burrow there for a while. We are unsure about which coat to wear.
March 27th
We report early at night, just a few days from the moon's first quarter. We switched off the kitchen light to see better outside; we had hoped for Mars, Betelgeuse, Capella, or even Aldebaran. We can only see the moon, cut out of the solid blue that is the sky tonight.
March 28th
We report: this is the first time we have come here, but we can tell that this place is meant to be shrouded in fog. Had we come here on a bright summer day, we would perhaps say it was meant to be bathed in sunshine, but we sincerely doubt it. This is a foggy field at heart.
March 29th
We report the sunshine, touching everything at least once in between the shadows of the clouds. It dances across the ground and it turns the new leaves golden from where we are looking at them. The birds in the hedges seem to wake up every time a cloud moves away from the sun.
March 30th
We report: sometimes, when we are very tired, we have a harder time facing inevitable events. Tonight, the sunset was quick; we had not noticed it was time until the sky was already full of withering light. We had so much more to do. Perhaps the sunrise will be slower tomorrow.
March 31st
We report that for some obscure reason, we are sleeping in a tent out in the woods on this terribly windy night. There are howls and scratches, and a low sound coming from deep within the woods. We saw many bright stars in between the clouds that are speeding across the sky.