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.
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.
March 29th
We report in the vicinity of a storm, right there in the will-it-will-it-not of it. The clouds keep moving up like there is nowhere else to go, but the bugs and the birds are all flying low to the ground. There is a sense of suspension in the heavy air. The low sun flickers.
March 28th
We report: we can hear the moody calls of a tawny owl out here. We are trying to find it among bare branches while the dusk light remains, but the mistletoe shrubs in the poplars trick our eyes. In the end, the day fades away completely, and the owl flies deep into the woods.
March 27th
We report in the almost-drizzle of a late March morning. The throes of winter are still fresh on our mind, and the blanket of white on the ground brings us to snow rather than daisies at first. Once the moment passes, we get there thanks to the bees and the butterflies.
March 26th
We report: everything is constantly moving today, spinning and rolling and slipping. We get a sense of the situation at some point, but then we too must move, and nothing looks the same when we pay attention once more. We think things will settle only when the night comes.
March 25th
We report in the short hours of the evening: there is rain in our sunset, and it is spilling over everything. It is not the heaviest of rains, but because of the hour, when we look to the west, we see every last drop of sunshine falling to the ground. The puddles become oceans.
March 24th
We report: standing here before dawn, watching the sky shift while the shadows slowly recede, it feels like hearing a fanfare coming from across town. The music is already so loud, but it seems to get impossibly louder as it approaches, and here are the mediums, and now the highs
March 23rd
We report as we are getting swallowed into the eddies of the sky: there is a lukewarm breeze brushing our ankles, but the wind on our ears is icy. A minute later, it all gets switched up, and it starts raining. We get the feeling that the clouds are tangled up for a reason.
March 22nd
We report: every cloud that has come to the sky today has been stretched from one horizon to the opposite end of the sky. This speaks to the languidness of this sunny day, that nothing seems to move on or over or out; the same clouds, in the same sky, for the forever of today.
March 21st
We report as we are attempting to pinpoint the smell of sunrise: perhaps the colour of the clouds makes a difference. Perhaps pink is a little bit sweet, just a splash in the aroma of fresh-fallen rain, and the new growth of grass. We inhale some drizzle and sneeze a few times.
March 20th
We report: the sky has spent the day putting layers on. The thin cirrus of the morning warm thickened until we could not find the sun anymore, and then we could feel the cold sting our eyes in the wind. The path to spring is a winding one, but we gladly walk the detours.
March 19th
We report in the late morning, when we have had enough time to figure out today might just be a rainy day. We can see new leaves in the trees encountering rain for the first time, a shiver that shakes branches. The showers are brief, but also heavy and numerous.
March 18th
We report: there is a small tuft of white bravely facing the immensity of the blue sky all on its lonesome, certainly confronting its own individuality and whatnot. With nothing else happening weatherwise at the moment, at least not visibly, all our focus is on the one cloud.
March 17th
We report as we are leaving the night behind: our breath fogs pale between the sun and us, and the sun rings red in the dewy air. It was not supposed to be this cold, but our usual suspect, the humidity, has us hunched up against the slight breeze. Our expert is in a cheery mood.
March 16th
We report: the stars find us as we move in the dark before we find them, and they seem a little closer than usual. We whisper the names of the ones we recognise, and our expert corrects us on more of them than we care to admit. We turn a torch on, and the stars move away.
March 15th
We report in transience: there is not much time for the sky today, or so we try to convince ourselves. In truth, we steal moments, shapes and colours, and guess at the temperature of the light. We crack a window to let in the smell of the rain, and the wind slams it wide open.