August 29th
We report: from way down below the horizon, the sun still projects precious few rays high up the sky. The clouds all start to blend into the atmosphere, featureless patches of grey and blue while dusk moves in. The highway traffic in the distance sounds different in the dark.
August 28th
We report: it smells like dry ferns in the undergrowth even as the humidity is beginning to permeate the air. Our shoes are covered in dust, and full of pebbles. Our expert is whispering for fear of spooking some bats. We do not recall ever seeing bats in this place.
August 27th
We report on a drizzly morning at sea: we have been combating a persistent seasickness with little to no success. When the waves get gentler, we manage to get a better look at the coast. There is a northern gannet circling the boat from afar, looking for the right moment to dive.
August 26th
We report: noon, the moon is still high in the sky. This is the last quarter, even though we were rather certain that the full moon was only two days ago. Our expert had to show us a calendar, and explain time to us for a little bit. The temperature is back up after a short dip.
August 25th
We report about this evening: there was a series of back-to-back sunsets tonight. We said goodbye to the sun for good a few times, but then the clouds would rearrange, over and over again, revealing more sun. We stayed out well past the nautical twilight, just to make sure.
August 24th
We report: there was that autumn wind this morning, just that little bit sharper, that made it a little bit more difficult to get warm once we got inside. Our expert pretended that they had made too much tea by mistake. Later on, we watched the sunrise together.
August 22nd
We report: the clouds are new and shiny after the rain, the blue of the sky is squeaky clean in a way we had not seen for a few days. It could rain again soon, probably, judging from the look on our expert's face. The wind feels wonderful; there is no other way to put it.
August 21st
We report: August is on its last legs, and the days are messy, dusty, rusty, and the air weighs more and more with each passing moment. There is dry grass in the puddles that today's shower left behind. The light exhausts itself in sunsets, stretching the evening thin.
August 20th
We report about the moonrise at dusk. There has been time enough since sunset for the leftovers of the day to grow cold and brittle. Invisible clouds are drifting under the half-light, muddying the outline of the moon. Our expert muses about fog as the horizon turns grey.
August 19th
We report in the middle of the day - yes, it was daytime, but suddenly it is nighttime, or at least, it feels like it. The clouds took over the sky in a few minutes. The darkness settled in, and now, utter silence. Something is about to happen, it is on the tip of our tongue.
August 18th
We report: it is nearing noon, the sun is getting high, but the heat is not quite following. The breeze carrying from the sea feels cool on our neck, and it comes to disturb the sand whenever it starts to warm up. Stratocumulus are slowly starting to appear on the horizon.
August 17th
We report about a shimmer we saw on the tip of a cloud. The sun was just about done with this day, and we were going home when we looked up one last time. The touch of green caught our attention, subtle but out of place. It was gone by the time we got our expert to take a look.
August 16th
We report: the rain only cleared out after dark. It felt like an ocean and then a lake's worth of water had dropped on us that day. And though the clouds are sparse now, the stars still look teary-eyed up there. The wind shakes the trees, and it almost sounds like rain again.
August 15th
We report: we stayed up late talking with our expert, last night. It is now morning, a few paces before sunrise, and we got woken up by the wood shutters slamming against the wall in the wind. The sky looks like mercury, slicks of liquid clouds laid out from east to west.
August 14th
We report while the barometer is suffering a sudden drop: the clouds are behaving in a slightly odd way. We have met our new friend the storm chaser as the edge of a field. No oncoming storm, but he stood with our expert and us as we looked up, a bit puzzled with the bent clouds.
August 13th
We report: the darling light of the day briefly glows brighter before it vanishes. We watch the evening slip through our fingers, and we breathe in the silence. We forgot that the sunset would come earlier than it used to; there is a little bit of sorrow in that, just a bit.
August 12th
We report: this morning sparkles in suspended water. The humidity has trapped both the chill and the heat, and we step around shallow puddles while wondering whether the mist is rain instead. There is no answer to be had; we, as always, struggle to fully wake up.
August 11th
We report: one more in a series of storms, this one we see from a respectable distance, and it never comes any closer. A long sigh, inevitable, drawn out. There is no tension in the way the clouds gather and darken. The rain evaporates in the air long before reaching the ground.
August 10th
We report a lot of wind this afternoon. It is picking up a lot of dust, lifting warm air off the ground, and pushing the clouds upwards. It was supposed to be a hot day, and it is; but the wind is making it light and easy, instead of the heavy mugginess we had been worried about.
August 9th
We report: the rain fell for a long time yesterday, and even through most of the night. The temperature dropped as the heat fell into the gutter with the rain, and this morning, the sunrise is happening through a slight fog. We keep blinking to try and see more clearly.