April 25th
We report: as we wake up in the morning, we remember this sky as if it were a dream. It falls apart in our mind, so we call our expert to describe it, and we talk about the smell of the darkness, the glint of the stars like sand in the sunshine. They tell us to go back to sleep.
April 24th
We report: as we have gotten used to the longer days of spring, it is a little unsettling when the light dims mid-afternoon. Nothing very special is happening, only some rain, and the cloud cover that has gotten thick enough to trap the light inside. The world gets a bit smaller.
April 23rd
We report under the bright noon sun: this cloud keeps on rising higher and higher, showing no signs of stopping. We have seen some of its neighbours hit ceilings that this cloud does not seem to even acknowledge. We cannot help but root for this growing giant.
April 22nd
We report: an evening lull amidst a wet week, the sky is staring at itself in overflowing potholes, remembering an ocean in the gravel. All the dust and the pollen have long fallen off the air in morning, and then afternoon showers, but the horizon remains a misty thing.
April 21st
We report about the storm of the past night: the thunder a steady roll rather than distinct claps, and the lightning, diffuse flashes hidden by the shadows of rain. On the floor, the outlines of the windows cut the light in neat, contained shapes. We had no trouble finding sleep.
April 20th
We report: the clouds cannot seem to determine at which altitude to settle, and the waves roll over the sky with indecisiveness. Our expert says they are monitoring the movements of the weather for a possible thunderstorm, although we think they might actually be taking a nap.
April 19th
We report mid-afternoon: after a brief early taste of warm days at the beginning of April, a more seasonal climate has settled in. Although we certainly feel the bite of the wind, it is not unwelcome. The blue sky is much bluer between bouts of rain than any other moment.
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.
