We report: when we get to the shore in the blue hour, the gulls pay us no mind, their shrieks too loud in our morning ears. The sand under our feet is dry, but feels liquid for how cold it is. The sky is opaque, waiting for some pink to bleed through in the next half hour.
We report: as we were walking, the sky ahead of us was a milky white, certainly nothing like rain. We stopped for a sip of water, and finally noticed the clouds pooling behind us. We almost immediately felt a raindrop on our cheek, the wind pushing our hair into our face.
We report: where the river meets the sea, there is something in between mist and a light drizzle. It stays right here, a light blur on the horizon, the air brinier than ever. The ducks are searching the silt for snails and worms. Our expert‘s hair is curling around their face.
We report: feels like late August, yellow grass along the roads, and fair weather clouds sweeping the sky. Our expert finds flowers of early summer in the undergrowth; on the banks of the streams, in the shadows of the willows and the oaks. The afternoon is too long for August.
We report: there was rain for a few hours in the morning, and then it did not get much warmer. Now, at sunset, we can still find beads of water on leaves here and there. It gets a little cold, too, enough for a jacket, but we wait until our expert gets the sniffles to go home.
We report: on the approach of the clouds, we feel weighed down, finding it hard to move. There is a sense that we are seeing something we should not. It gets very windy, warm and dry. Once we are under the storm, and it starts to rain, we cannot make out its contours anymore.
We report: at last, the sky bears tidings of changing weather. Cirrus and cirrocumulus, our expert reminds us, often precede a cold front, perhaps even a squall line. We hold hope for at least a little rain to clear the air; for now, the clouds keep on slowly aggregating.
We report: we watched rain approach on the radar for half an hour, but as it got close, we realised most of it had evaporated on the way. We were able to count the raindrops, more of a pitter than a pitter-patter. Ultimately, we did lose a few degrees, a tear into this hot day.
We report: just before noon, though the shade is hard to find, it is not yet too hot to step outside. We cheer on the clouds a little, but try as they would, they would not be thick enough to block anything. Later on, the sun seems to come in through the keyhole and mail slot.
We report: we find sleep to be a difficult affair with the heatwaves of late. We toss and turn, nonsensically wishing our pillows had more sides so we could find a cold surface to lay our head on. We dream of insomnia, and wake up to the sun already risen, once more.
We report: the night comes kindly with a breeze, while the ground is still warm to the touch. There is a bit of humidity in the air. During the day, it made the heat more difficult to bear, but in the absence of the sun, we feel thankful for the slight chill it brings.
We report: the sky has come down to meet us, low, low, until we touch the clouds - the clouds touch us. We are aware that it was supposed to be hot, or at least we heard it would be, but we find it difficult to picture while mist is dribbling down our nose and eyelashes.
We report: the light is thick and sluggish today. It laboriously works its way through the air, and stays suspended in the dust. In the afternoon heat, we also find our movements slow and heavy. We feel as though we can tell each ray of light apart as they hit our face.
