September 20th

We report: the humidity of this evening has bloomed into bright colours, so that even our tired eyes cannot help but awaken in the light. We feel cold, but we can tell this is more on us than the light breeze. Later on, we watch the sun slide off each layer of clouds, one by one.

September 19th

We report: there are flocks of birds in the sky at nightfall again. The days are still warm, but they are getting short, enough that we have to look out for the height of the sun in the late afternoons. Our export reminds us that the autumn equinox is in a few days.

September 18th

We report: since we came up to the mountains, we are now in the land of the clouds. Although one might refer to this weather as « a downpour », we like to think that we are « mapping the clouds ». We have not been able to take notes in the heavy rain, but we are paying attention.

September 17th

We report: it rained a lot, and our clothes have yet to dry completely. Even then, although we can feel our damp socks in our shoes, it feels like a new day when the sun comes out. It is brighter for the way it lives in puddles, in raindrops that are still suspended to the trees.

September 16th

We report: today, the wind blew in the same direction all day long, and the clouds formed along that way. It rained like that, we saw the slant, and the buildings got wet on that side. The planes went on all their right ways too, and we did not get lost on our own path.

September 15th

We report: this is pre-dawn. Under the glare of the streetlight, we hear a robin‘s song. The blue of this twilight is vibrating at a strange frequency that we cannot place. It seems to be a shade we had never seen before, solid and fuzzy at the same time. Our ears are buzzing.

September 14th

We report: this afternoon, the weather is at a standstill. At the top of the beach where the seaweed has come to wash, the clouds do the same, pushed to the shoreline with this morning’s high tide. There are thousands of seashells in the sand, all gorgeous and unique.

September 13th

We report: we feel completely dwarfed by the clouds today. Every time we look up, they seem to get taller. We think they might be absorbing the other, smaller clouds when we are not looking, and there are plenty more of those. The sun manages to come through the chaos.

September 12th

We report: the sun is a few degrees above the horizon, melting into the atmosphere. Because it is this low, we are exceptionally able to see its shimmering corona with the naked eye. We realise that we still should probably not be looking at the sun for this long.

September 11th

We report at dawn: the clouds are diaphanous, only just coming into view. The sky looks so thin, like the weakest breeze could knock it all over. Some colours are being brought into the world with utmost care - not too many, not all at once, not too loud, so you can sleep in.

September 10th

We report about drizzle on the river. We watch the smallest beads of water catch on our expert’s flyaways. It is a ghostly sort of morning; we have not come across a single person so far. We passed a cormorant perched on a buoy, and it did not even glance at us.

September 9th

We report: this is more of the raking September light that is so alluring to us. Today, the clouds are also showing proclivities when it comes to geometry; we think that we might find words written in the sky any minute now. It is chilly enough for long sleeves.

September 8th

We report: our expert is too busy catching up on solar weather reports to deign join us for the sunset - it appears that they had missed the news of a minor geomagnetic storm. Down here, even through the highs and lows of atmospheric pressure, the storm clouds pass quietly.

September 7th

We report at nightfall, ahead of the cold front we are expecting in the morning: the wind is rising. The atmospheric pressure is still dropping. The stars are twinkling through the clouds; the humidity is creating halos around them. The few raindrops are flying in the breeze.

September 6th

We report: late in the afternoon, we see a large blanket of clouds sweep across the whole width of the sky. Everywhere we look, it keeps pushing in, getting thicker as it goes. Later on, it starts losing its contours in the dim dusk light, but we know it is still there.

September 5th

We report: the sunflowers have all begun to wilt. They are all looking at the ground. We can see their seeds starting to appear behind the florets. It is September now; even on days when it is hot, the sun is getting lower, which means so should the sunflowers.

September 4th

We report: it is raining a little, sparse few drops here and there. The sunset is keeping low to the horizon under the weight of the clouds. Walking home, the street lamps haphazardly turn on, unpredictable. The telltale, dry crackle when they turn on makes us look up.

September 3rd

We report: of course, we see the moon on a night when we were not expecting it, cloudy as the day was. It is also at a time when we are practically falling asleep on our feet. We do stay for a few minutes to watch the clouds wrap the moon in mother-of-pearl, again and again.

September 2nd

We report: on the beach, we come across squall after squall. We see them coming from afar, the blur of rain on the slate grey ocean. The rain is only half the genuine thing, and the other half is sea spray; facing the wind as we walk, we keep accidentally inhaling it.

September 1st

We report early, but especially bright, in the morning: we had to take a minute to get used to the sun when we went outside. When we went back in, we had to take another minute. Each cloud felt as bright as the sun, and looking up was already enough for our eyes to get full.