August 23rd

We report: the sun is setting to the chattering of the jackdaws. We seem to only come across this group at this time of the day, when we are alone. We have taken to nodding at them, hoping to establish a friendship solely on that basis. The wind is whistling through phone lines.

August 22nd

We report: last week, we stood outside at night for hours on end during the peak of the Perseids. Tonight, the sky is even clearer, and we would do it again - had the temperature not dropped by half since. Even our jacket feels a little flimsy after a few minutes of staring up.

August 21st

We report: mid-morning, we see an atmospheric disturbance on the radar, and the clouds do come. With them, so does a light drizzle, and we want more rain, but we have convinced ourselves that we should not look like we do. When we go back inside, it starts raining harder.

August 20th

We report: we get a strange feeling looking at the marks left by months of unrelenting heat, mismatched with the last few days’ rain. The dry corn field rustling in the wind sounds like torn up newspapers. In the path running along its side, a wasp drinks from a muddy puddle.

August 19th

We report at sunrise, after another bout of rain late in the night: twice in a row seems promising with regard to our dreams. We hope we can establish a pattern of rainy days with a third one tomorrow. We already see some leaves unfurl from their drought-induced curl-ups.

August 18th

We report: the rain arrived a couple of days earlier than we were expecting it, which we thought was very good of it. This time around, it did not dry immediately, and we find that it is still here, on the leaves, in the grass, rhythmically dripping from the leaky gutter.

August 17th

We report: one hour before sundown, we find the low sun casting strange shadows across the clouds. To the right, rows of altocumulus floccus are floating, tightly packed together. The light changes quickly in the early evening, now that we are midway through August.

August 16th

We report: our expert has spotted two red kites sweeping across the sky. They were proud of themselves for recognising the specific bird, but they were careful to keep their distance; still not too fond of birds. Meanwhile, the cirrus spissatus are withering away.

August 15th

We report: we thought we had seen all this sunset had to offer, but we stayed a few moments longer. When the sky got almost dark enough for the first planets to emerge from its depths, some of the higher clouds started to glow - and only when those faded was it truly over.

August 14th

We report: we found more clouds throughout the day, and varying weather, too. There was wind that moved the clouds along, and in the evening, it got humid. It is a little foggy now. We keep track of it all as we go, and we wonder if we can hope for some rain in the near future.

August 13th

We report: now, there are clouds. Not just a few, not a thin layer, not stormy, let alone rainy clouds; a proper cloud cover. These would normally be somewhat unremarkable to us. Thinking about it, however, it has been months since we have seen this kind of weather.

August 12th

We report: we think something happened while we were under the cover of the trees, but we are unsure what it was. For a moment, though the sky had been cloudless since dawn, the light dimmed, and the wind suddenly rose. On the ground, the shadows of the leaves shifted.

August 11th

We report: we come across our storm chaser friend at dusk, while he is not chasing any storms. He tells us that he has taken up crosswords in his downtime, of which he has had quite a bit lately. The clouds get longer and wispier, utterly un-stormlike in their peaceful demeanour.

August 10th

We report about something that has happened to us before, and most likely will again: we briefly confused the clouds for the Milky Way. In that very narrow time window, we were amazed at the clarity of its contours, our breath taken away. We then had to come back down to Earth.

August 9th

We report: we have our expert on the phone from a neighbouring town; it is pelting down there, loud enough that we can hear it on the line when they speak. We see it from where we are, too, the mass of water darkening the horizon. The rain then moves north instead of towards us.

August 8th

We report: for a handful of seconds, taken by the sun, we feel weightless. It seems as though it is just us and the sun, and there is the burn and a pleasant warmth at once, a golden glow and the searing light too. The clouds continue to move on, and the sun disappears in them.

August 7th

We report: after a night of stargazing, we are on our way to sleep, but the sun is doing everything it can to keep us awake. Our expert is continuously yawning as they comment on the movement of the crepuscular rays, and we are trying very hard not to rub our eyes.

August 6th

We report: in a race against sunlight, we saw Castor move over the horizon, followed by Pollux, and now Mercury is finally pulling through. In a show of unfairness, because Mercury is a planet, it will stay brighter and longer than all the stars - even though it was late.

August 5th

We report: this afternoon, there was a brief rain shower which sounded so loud on the tin rooftop that we were convinced it was hail. We soon went looking for hailstones, but the rain had already stopped by then. Within minutes, the sky cleared, and the ground dried off.

August 4th

We report: mid-morning, the sun turns from light source to a heat lamp, specifically pointing to the back of our neck. We walk close to the walls, in the slivers of shade that live there, and those are still much cooler in comparison. We sometimes find wind in the wider streets.