We report: through the unpredictable days of April, the clouds rise and fall within moments, and sun and rain ceaselessly chase each other. It seems that at last, one has caught up to the other; we got a shower at sunset, a brief burst from clouds we cannot locate.

April 17th

We report from a place a little north from nowhere: something like the sun is hovering out of sight, eclipsing the stars too early for our taste. We do not resent the sunrise, but we had wished for a little more night. We spend time listening to the sounds of darkness.

April 16th

We report: there is rain behind us, but we suspect there might be hail ahead of us. In the meantime, although there is no storm, and thus no eye of the storm, it is eerily quiet. We can see the wind picking up the precipitation on the underbelly of the clouds, carrying it away.

April 15th

We report: the cirrus take to the sky like a flock of birds, extended wings on the wind, moving to the east and dropping feathers on the way. On their tails, we can see altostratus forming, slowly weaving a web around the sun. We take note of the barometer's drop.

April 14th

We report about one of those rainy day sunsets, when the colours and the light feel thick in the air. It is like watching the world through curtains, the bloom and the shimmer of the sun. The birds are everywhere, making the most of the last bit of daylight, and so are we.

April 13th

We report a few hours past midnight: the moon is ensuring that we shall stay in bright half-light throughout the night, shiny as it is in its corner of the sky. The darkness never really comes. We are only a little asleep, watching the shadows of moonlight on the bedroom floor.

April 12th

We report: the clouds are all meeting here and now, very much over our head, to perform the pantomime of rain. It is something we have experienced a few times over the past week; it will look like rain, but we should not fret. No precipitation will occur. The clouds will move on.

April 11th

We report about the white sun at its zenith: the world has been bleached, and even the shadows in the sky seem weak under the light. Our eyes take a long time to adjust when we come outside, and we are hit with the smells of spring too - it is quite an intense day, it seems.

April 10th

We report: the clouds are coming alight one after the other, only for a moment each before the wind pushes them into the darkness again. Our expert is desperately trying to stifle their yawns. We wonder whether the rain is going away, or if it only just started to fall.

April 9th

We report sometime between astronomical dusk and nautical dusk - either way, the sun is now several degrees below the horizon, and the night chill has already well settled in. The cumulus congestus are still tall in the sky, leftover potential of warmer hours.

April 8th

We report while the sun is slowly moving in the sky: the clouds are following the same glacial pace in their arrival, misty droplets of white falling into waves. We know not whether the accompanying cold is because of the clouds, or clouds are appearing because of the humidity.

April 7th

We report: we do not know when it got this dark out. The sky was not clear by any means, but the clouds that have accumulated seem to have appeared all at once, a solid wall of lead - that much darker for how the sun is so bright behind us, a warm hand on the back of our neck.

April 6th

We report upon the momentary interruption of our sleep: the birds have woken us up. We contemplate spring for a moment. The trees have been slowly filling in, and it makes us restless to see the tender leaves come out. There is something boiling underground while we slumber.

April 5th

We report: the moon has been in the sky since midday, and we have been looking at it throughout the afternoon, easy to find in the blue sky. Now that dusk is here, its invisible companions reveal themselves - Mars again, Castor and Pollux, all regulars on this path.

April 4th

We report while the clouds keep gathering: the light is wavering, but making stubborn attempts to reach down. The cloud cover has been present throughout the day, but there is no longing for warmth. The sun is coming through, no matter what, and it demands our wakefulness.

April 3rd

We report: it is only with the spring that we realise the world is covered in blackthorn. The white flowers have sprouted everywhere, taking over the hills and the roadsides, reflecting the sunshine. Our expert is covered in petals when they meet us today. We do not say anything.

April 2nd

We report on an early April morning: the last few days have been unseasonably warm. We are looking for traces of that heat now, but it is nowhere to be found. Now that we are paying attention, something in the air reminds us of rain. The clouds turn a deeper red.

April 1st

We report: while the moon is still barely recovering from the new moon, Mars is just about the next brightest thing in the night sky - apart from Jupiter, but we cannot find Jupiter amidst the clouds tonight. In a few minutes, the brightest stars will start to come out too.

March 31st

We report about the twists and turns of today's weather. This morning was bright and clear, with a warm breeze, but around midday, the sky started to melt into the horizon. Since then, the clouds have been piling up, rippling and folding into one another to make room for more.

March 30th

We report: the sun rose a little to the side today, and we felt a bit uneasy about it. We have had some time to note, notice, and observe now, and we think it is all going to be fine. There has been light, warmth, and companionship in the presence of the sun, as per usual.