May 2021
May 2nd
We report that we sat down, found a part of the sky that we liked more than the others, and took in the lazy morning light. We wanted to keep the colours in our pockets and save them for later, perhaps for the dark hours of the middle of the night.
May 1st
We report: this ravenous cloud swallowed lightning whole through its maw, and its underbelly was left glowing and rumbling with electricity. The sound is echoing through the sky, ominous but also reassuring in a cosmic sort of way.
May 4th
We report a blue sky mottled with light freckles and swept by long, slow, and silent waves. There is some wind blowing in the upper parts of the atmosphere. We may not feel it, but we can see how it is shifting and blurring the clouds, tugging and pushing at their edges.
May 3rd
We report: today, we got the smallest bit of a rainbow caught on the edge of a cloud. We might have missed it, were we not eagerly looking for it as the Sun appeared during a shower.
May 5th
We report: walking under the cover of some trees, we heard and smelled the rain before seeing and feeling it. It was the clearing rain that came after a long stretch of dry days, taking the dust suspended in the air with it, feeding rivers, and mixing with the earth.
May 7th
We report a blood-red moonrise at a 14.9% visibility; a waning crescent in the waning light. There are but a few days before the new Moon, and so we are trying to spend as much time as possible looking at her in the meantime.
May 6th
We report the Sun catching the clouds at strange angles that seem to make them take on shapes that we had never noticed; never mind the colours and the light that we can't help but see as those of a fire burning through the sky.
May 11th
We report: water rising and falling, falling and rising, and the swell and the crash of the waves, and then the rhythm of the backwash; it is all quite overwhelming, but we are ever-patient and shall stay put in order to document it all.
May 8th
We report a humid afternoon, not quite a cold day, but definitely a little windy at times. We tiptoed around very brief rainfalls and very small sunny outbursts in the interstices between the clouds.
May 9th
We report: much happens in the sky throughout the day; sometimes, layers of clouds will move in different directions than the ones above or below them, and sometimes one layer will stay static while others fly by. We attempt to dredge up some of that history with quick glances.
May 21st
We report: dusk, a moment of the day that we spend an awful lot of time thinking about, certainly disproportionate compared to how short it is. We live in places that are in between other places, the ones that just barely obey the rules of space and time.
May 10th
We report that the colours of the sunset fell apart in the wind, bits by bits getting torn off and led away on their lonesome to founder in deeper seas.
May 12th
We report that we have seen these patterns in other places before; ripples that have been carried by the wind or the sea, engraved in the sand and ancient stones. Sometimes straight, and other times sinuous, and our expert also tells us "linguoid", which does not mean much to us.
May 13th
We report threads spun out of ice roaming in the golden light, weaving clouds in a fabric so thin and fragile that it keeps tearing apart.
May 14th
We report: the Moon, splashed in silver with Earthshine and brushed past by fast-moving clouds. We kept our eyes on her silhouette for a long time even as she sometimes got blurred by the condensation on our windows, or veiled by the clouds.
May 15th
We report, now in the midst of spring, we already struggle to remember the harshest points of winter. It is something of a wonder, the fleeting memories of years past, the density of time stretching or compressing as we move on with it. Will we remember this spring in the summer?
May 16th
We report a storm slowly building in this deceptive blue sky. We have a keen eye for cumulonimbus, and that is why we will not be fooled by this lovely sunny day. Bring on the storm.
May 17th
We report: we unexpectedly stumbled upon the quiet companionship of the sky by walking underneath it, and came to that realisation somewhat belatedly. The way home is still long, yet, we almost feel there already, knowing that we do not walk alone.
May 18th
We report that we guessed at the position of the Sun throughout the day, in between sparse raindrops and drafts. Its silhouette appeared sometimes, coating the edges of the clouds with light.
May 19th
We report: fog settled on the hills towards the end of the afternoon, falling heavy like a blanket over the forest. As we took the road in between the trees, we slipped into what felt like another world; unsure as to whether we would ever come out the other side.
May 20th
We report that this is the Sun. We know many things about it, such as the fact that it is a star, and it is very bright and hot. It is also big and far away, and we only have one of them. Our expert refuses to tell us more, but we are content with the extent of our knowledge.
May 22nd
We report a storm cell that seems to be just about coming to a mature stage. Inside and around it, warm updrafts and cold downdrafts are busy creating convective loops as this big cloud is reaching the tropopause. As for us, we hope to be inside before this develops any further.
May 23rd
We report asperitas clouds, rippling in silent waves through the sky. Some clouds inspire a specific type of wonder, a diffuse ominousness in their shapes. Our expert assures us that we are in no danger standing underneath these, but we remain inexplicably wary.
May 24th
We report: the clouds made up of smoke and layered up so as to catch as many colours as possible, smooth plumes of vapour flattened up against the top of the sky. It was all good and fine in that moment.
May 25th
We report that we just stepped outside, and the sky is outrageously bright. We should really be looking away or closing our eyes, but every time we do, we are only faced with the outline of clouds engraved into our eyelids.
May 26th
We report: we are rather certain that these clouds stayed in the same place all day, keeping these same shapes. We know this because we looked at them for at least five minutes, and they certainly were not moving.
May 27th
We report all the incandescence and the warmth of an inferno, all the light and hot curls of flames, so far from any fire and any other source of heat. It is like some sort of memorial for the Sun, a way to stave us off until it reappears.
May 28th
We report: there is static in the air. The temperature remains high on the ground, but we can see dark clouds pooling above us, and the birds are swooping lower than usual in their flight. We are beginning to smell ozone in the air.
May 29th
We report a mixed sky, with altocumulus, cirrus, cumulus, and stratocumulus. Our expert insists that we should be able to tell which is which, but we insist that our expert is the expert, and therefore it is their job, not ours.
May 30th
We report: we intend on verifying the popular saying "red sky at night, traveller's delight". To that effect, we have planned a trip for tomorrow, and are hoping that the saying does check out.
May 31st
We report that the sky was red at sunset, and then, the sun was red at sunrise; as a result, we do not quite know how to feel about sailors' proverbs and what the colour of the skies would say about the weather of the day or the next. We will repeat the experiment at a later date.