Browsed by
Category: sky

Ground Rules

Ground Rules

Comments 0 Comment
Today the ground rules. The
heavens send us rain; the ground gives us ice. We are coated from the ground
up. We are bound to the ground, are creatures of it. From it we come and to it
we return. We look to the heavens but are bound to the earth. 
The
other day I watched a show about bird men, people who bundle up in special
suits with “wings” then jump off cliffs and “fly” down. The most crucial time,
said one of the daredevils, is when you pull the ripcord. Too soon and you miss
the ride. Too late and you die.
To pull the ripcord is to speak the truth — that we
are creatures of earth, not of heaven. It’s to say, with a reluctant dip of the wing, that the ground rules.
Liftoff and Letdown

Liftoff and Letdown

Comments 0 Comment

Yesterday I had the pleasure of going through airport security twice for the same flight. I’d left something in the car. Later in the day, while waiting for a connection in another airport, I walked past an even busier security checkpoint, people rushing to lace up their shoes, stuff toiletries in bags, zip laptops into cases.

That flying is an exhausting, dehumanizing experience is news to no one. But you forget just how exhausting and dehumanizing when most of your trips are by car.

In exchange for the miracle of flight, we have the humiliation of full-body scans, the inconvenience of unpacking what we just packed and stuffing it into gray bins, the thrill of padding barefoot along the airport floor.

A reminder that even though we soar through clouds, our fears and troubles usually keep us earthbound.

Big Sky

Big Sky

Comments 0 Comment

There is the Big Sky of the West, mesas hulking in the distance, red rock, cloudless sky, the tang of  wild sage.

But what I had forgotten is that there is also the Big Sky of the beach, the vast horizon beyond the breakers, the vistas north and south, clouds looming in the late afternoon sky — seeing the weather before it arrives.

Here too is a vast panorama, scenery that takes me out of myself, the curve of the earth implied but not stated.

Sun on Water

Sun on Water

Comments 0 Comment

The sun rises and sets every day, of course, but in my regular life I don’t see it.

It’s an everyday miracle hidden behind hills and houses and daily routines.

But here at the beach I have time to watch the sun as it moves through the sky. Faraway star, morning beacon, evening entertainment — it disappears, finally, behind banks of clouds. But first a light show, late rays on water, glorious, best viewed in silence.

Perigee Moon

Perigee Moon

Comments 0 Comment

I saw the moon rising as I rushed to the store on a last-minute errand. It was almost 9 and still light. I pulled the car to a stop at the corner and snapped this photo, which makes the moon look small and faraway instead of large and in-your-face, which is how it appeared outside the view finder.

This morning I learned from the weather guys that this is a perigee moon (closest to earth in its orbit), and the full perigee (also known as a super moon) appears 14 percent larger and 30 percent brighter than the apogee (farthest away in its orbit) moon.

I’m not a big statistics person but from the look of last night’s show, I’d say that’s about right.  And it was 40 percent more beautiful — at least.

But just to be sure I’ll be gazing skyward tonight and tomorrow, when the full perigee will once again bridge the gap between heaven and earth.

Grass Moon

Grass Moon

Comments 0 Comment

It’s not green, not blue, either. It’s a brilliant white, brighter than any recent winter moon. It’s the Grass Moon, a springtime orb, arriving just as the grass is starting to grow again and the mowers are humming and before we’ve grown tired of that weekly ritual.

 I learned of the Grass Moon by reading my favorite go-to weather site, the Capital Weather Gang. It will be a beautiful full moon tonight, the “Gang” told me, the Grass Moon. So I tiptoed out the front door at 9:30, trying not to rouse the dog, and stared at the moon peeking through the branches of the dogwood tree.

It was doubly framed, this moon, first by the tall oaks and then by the white blossoms of the tree. The moon shed enough light that I could make out each separate flower, could notice the details of branch and bloom, could have probably (if I’d wanted to) knelt down and counted each blade of grass.

It was a moon that brought the rest of spring into focus.

Wikimedia Commons: Fir0002/Flagstaffotos

The Moon Before the Storm

The Moon Before the Storm

Comments 0 Comment

Here we are thinking about the snow we might get on Wednesday, the snow I will most probably write about tomorrow, too. But today it is clear and bright and cold, and the moon, setting, was framed by the trees in our backyard.

A faraway moon this morning. Remote, withholding. Not round and jolly and close by.

A moon that is glad to be going.

Maps of Clouds

Maps of Clouds

Comments 0 Comment

Yesterday’s walk began in drizzle, which I cursed silently. Not that I mind it, but my hair does. But I walked anyway, and as I did, the sky began to clear and the clouds piled up in the west and made maps of themselves, great illuminated maps. There was Cuba, or maybe some Micronesian island, and beyond it, some southern coast. And the yellow-pink light kept growing, even though the light rain kept falling. By then I had given up on my hair and just marveled that the sky could be so bright and still have rain in it.

It wasn’t until I reached the far end of our neighborhood that the rain finally stopped, and by then the clouds were on fire, so I extended my stroll along the busy road, which offers prime sunset viewing — all the while keeping those clouds, those pink and yellow clouds, in my sight.

As the cars drove past I thought how few of those drivers (often I’m one of them) could look — or see — the beauty raging around them. The poverties we are given, how they enrich us; and the riches, how they impoverish. This is certainly not a new thought, but an intensely felt one there in the just-past-rainy gloaming of an otherwise dreary day.

Pink Smoke and Purple Clouds

Pink Smoke and Purple Clouds

Comments 1 comment

A funny thing happened on the way to work today. Same thing yesterday and the day before. I blame it on my phone, which is also my camera.

No longer do I stride quickly from Metro to office, car to train. Now I stop, look, snap. 

What would before have been preserved only in my mind is suddenly ripe for the taking. A wisp of smoke tinged pink by the rising sun. A bank of clouds moving in from the west.

Pictures are everywhere. Now I have a chance to take them.

I may never be on time again.

Cloudscape

Cloudscape

Comments 0 Comment

Yesterday on Metro, uncharacteristically bookless, I stare at the scenery passing by. The clouds were winter ones, thin, remote. So different from the fat summer cumulus. They reminded me of whitened  animal bones.

The light almost gone, me half asleep, wishing myself home in time to catch a walk in the brief dusk.

But before Vienna, a bonus — the sun, sinking fast, lights up the clouds, turns dross into gold.