Posts Tagged ‘clouds’
Sound Carries
Continuing with the theme of how serene it can be in our little paradise, particularly in the early morning, Cyndie and I caught ourselves being the “loud family” yesterday on our walk with Asher on the way to feed the horses. Sounds carry, we know that. Our immediate neighbor to the south has a phone ringer on one of his outbuildings that must be out of an old Bell Telephone rotary dial model. When it rings, it seems like it’s coming from within our paddock fence line.
When we emerged from the woods yesterday morning, the cloudy sky was particularly fascinating with a dramatic swirl directly overhead. I knew a photo wouldn’t capture the full essence of what our eyes were perceiving, but snapped a shot anyway.
When we walk and talk in the morning, it is common that one of us will get ahead or fall behind, pulling a weed or vine, so the projection of our voices picks up a bit as we carry on conversations. Suddenly, I’ll become aware that we are shouting at each other on an otherwise silent outdoor morning in such a way that the neighbors and the horses wouldn’t be able to miss.
Anybody outside yesterday would have heard us marveling over the spectacle in the sky, or how Asher was about to chase after a deer that had waited until he and I were only about four feet away before it bolted off through the trees, and our boy perfectly responded to my command to “Leave It!” and stayed with me.
The kind of conversational stories that a person can be so involved in telling that one loses track of how loud their voice has become. Yeah, way too many mornings, we are the loud family marching through the woods and along the back pasture to the barn, carrying on at the top of our lungs in the otherwise blissful serenity of our little valley.
“The Hayses are up and about,” the neighbors will announce.
With a chance of rain in the forecast and verifiably chilly temperatures, we put rain sheets on the horses yesterday morning while they were eating from their feed buckets. The precipitation didn’t show up until much later, but Light had made her own decision about being covered by the time it started to fall.
Cyndie found the blanket wadded up on the ground in the middle of the afternoon, bottom straps still clipped, and nothing ripped open. It must have been a fascinating sight to witness her Houdini performance of getting herself free of that. I’m confused about whether she pulled it up over her head or down off her butt. Had to be over her head. There’s no other way.
I’m glad to have missed it. Catching her in the middle of that would have been frightening. I wonder if she made a lot of noise while wiggling and wrangling it off of herself.
The way sound carries, the neighbors probably knew about it before we did.
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Striking Scenery
The day started as brilliantly as it ended yesterday. The timing of the sunrise has moved late enough that our morning walk with Asher on the way to feeding the horses brings some wonderful displays in the sky.
Early in the afternoon, I met Mike at the Flying Cloud Airport, where I parked my car before climbing into his SUV for the drive north. The fall scenery was looking pretty impressive, a couple of hours north of the Cities, despite the sputtering rain from a gray cloud cover. If it had been clear and sunny, it would have really popped.
The clouds to the north of the precipitation put on a show of their own, which I captured through the windshield.
One of the chores during this trip was to move their boat into town (Grand Rapids) for winterization service. We arrived to hook up the trailer with time to spare for a walk in their woods. The scenery around the pond, with its glassy surface, was particularly photogenic.
It’s a little past peak for brilliant reds and oranges up here, but the tamaraks are just short of reaching their peak fall beauty.
Our plan to fly Mike’s plane home today is teetering on the edge of acceptable weather, which is exactly why they had to leave the plane here the last time. It will be disappointing if we have to drive home, but we will return today one way or another.
It would be a first for me to view fall colors from a small plane. My fingers are crossed.
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Just Observing
I was watching part of a climate-themed exposé on Public Television last night where two men were having a conversation, obviously in front of cameras, although those were out of sight. There were different cameras aimed at each person’s face, allowing directors to edit it so the view constantly alternated back and forth as they spoke.
Since I was not fully engaged with the topic of their conversation and wasn’t really listening to their words, I found myself thinking about the apparent sincerity of their exchange, while their peripheral vision must have been filled with a camera lens and the person holding it. Reality shows have so normalized scenes of people purportedly behaving normally despite the presence of camera crews that it begins to feel like we should be able to watch everything happening at any time, anywhere in the world.
Saturday evening, I witnessed something in real life that wasn’t recorded. Asher and I were relaxing on the observation knoll at the high spot of our undulating driveway, watching the horses graze near the road in the hay field while the planet rotated our view of the sun ever closer to our horizon. When the unique loud buzz of a couple of dune buggy-styled side-by-sides came racing down the road from the north, it startled the horses. They took off like the race horses they once were. It is a spectacular sight.
Beyond the pure beauty of a thoroughbred sprinting at top speed, there was also the sound of pounding hooves from all four horses.
Yesterday, Asher and I were sitting there again, watching the sky.
It looked like it was the air that was racing this time.
Cyndie was on her way home from the Cities, and called to ask if I had seen the waves of clouds in the sky. She stopped and took pictures, which looked a lot like mine.
I like the fact that we were seeing the same thing and that we both decided to take pictures of our views.
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Duty Done
Today is the conclusion of my solo duty on the ranch, as Cyndie is due to return from Florida this afternoon. That means I’ll be vacuuming, doing the dishes, changing the sheets, running a load of laundry, and hiding all evidence of the ridiculous parties I’ve been hosting while she was away. Asher has been sworn to silence, and the horses have promised to keep my secrets.
What happens in the paddocks stays in the paddocks.
What happens in the sky ends up becoming photos John captures when the clouds form interesting shapes.
If you are reading this in the northern hemisphere, spring has sprung. Yesterday was the vernal equinox. The long, dark nights of winter are becoming a distant memory.
I’m looking forward to a break from being the only person available to entertain Asher. There are too many times in a day when he seeks attention, and my dwindling reserves of energy would prefer I take a nap in the recliner. Plus, this weekend is non-stop March Madness games to be followed. Asher always seems to need to go outside when the exciting final minutes of a close game are playing out.
I take the duty of watching college basketball tournaments seriously. Having Cyndie home will take some of the pressure off of me trying to do two things at the same time. I just have to remember I’m sharing living space again and stop living like a slob around here.
I must admit, though, it can be fun to live like that for short stints every once in a while.
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Two Skies
So, if I didn’t want to use a cliche that perfectly conveys my meaning, do I just choose a different series of words? My, there can be such a big change in conditions from one day to the next. [see “what a difference a day makes”]
On Saturday morning, I checked my weather app before stepping out the door to see what we would be walking into. It indicated a 12mph wind, but looking outside, I could see there was none. The air was still.
However, when we got to the barn, our local conditions caught up with the data being reported on the app. The wind picked up with gusto.
As the day wore on, the sky became filled with a remarkable depiction of the waves blowing the air, shaping the clouds in the upper atmosphere.
Yesterday couldn’t have been more different. Even though there was nothing up there to focus on, I felt drawn to snap a photo of how it looked when I lifted my eyes to the sky.
It doesn’t look like the kind of sky that matches a holiday gift season that advertisers are trying to persuade all of us is in full swing. It’s a never-ending beef of mine. I saw Christmas gift-giving prompts before Halloween.
Seems like we should probably be seeing Valentine’s ads pretty soon based on that timing. Get ready to buy chocolates, flowers, and jewelry soon!
The skies won’t look too friendly this afternoon based on the forecast. Cyndie aired out the horse blankets yesterday in preparation for chilly precipitation due to arrive. Wearing blankets is not one of the horse’s favorite things so we try not to put them on sooner than necessary.
At the same time, we’d like to get them on before the mares get soaking wet. It becomes a challenge of timing it just right to keep all of us happy.
Unlike the timing of certain holiday advertisers…
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Self-Guiding Iceland
Our fifth day in Iceland started with a casual breakfast in our Blue View Cabin. The makings for a picnic lunch got packed while the Icelandic gales roared outside. We learned about lenticular clouds from Mike, given the perfect visual aids available in the big sky views above.
Setting our own agenda made it easy to switch up our itinerary and visit the Strokkur Geyser before the Gullfoss Waterfall simply because we came upon it first on the route from our cabin. The early hour and intense wind had us wrapped up tight against the elements.
After an extended wait, a construction worker happened by and informed us the big geyser wasn’t blowing. We adjusted our attention to another spot where Mike caught the eruption.
The assault of the freezing temperature and intense wind had us seeking brief respite in the shelter of the coffee shop before setting out again.
The breeze was no less challenging at Gullfoss, but the temperature was warming, and we generated some of our own warmth with the hiking to see the marvel of yet another unique and astounding waterfall.
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I found myself mesmerized by the visual of the spray rising out of the canyon to the top of the ridge where the gusts immediately and emphatically rushed it away.
Given our freedom to choose our agenda, we made a stop for a closer look at Skálholt Cathedral, which Barb had looked up for us.
Thankfully, they had preserved real history on the site, too.
It was a light day for our intrepid explorers and we made our way back to the little cabin for a soak in the hot tub, a little power lounging, and dinner from our groceries, continuing to enjoy the big sky views sheltered from the wind.
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Hanging On
It feels like we are waiting for the grand chorus of an epic chart-busting anthem to crescendo and meld all the disparate elements of our lives into a satisfying resolution of peaceful bliss. Another way of saying, “another day, another dollar.” Every day is unique but it feels like the same things keep happening in each different day.
Bright sunshine. Big booming dark clouds. Gushing flood of rainfall. Bright sunshine. Hot steam evaporating. Insects hatching. Humidity rising. Big booming dark clouds return.
Between the dramatic downpours, we try to chip away at one or two outdoor projects that we can achieve despite the swampy conditions left by the cloudbursts.
Being quarantined on our property for the last three weeks has served to make me aware that it is unusual for us not to go out for some reason this many days in a row. Oh, wait, we drove up to get Asher last weekend. I already forgot. Never mind.
I’m just getting punchy because I haven’t felt like doing much of anything, yet innumerable things deserve to be done. I include getting some extended hours on my bike seat which hasn’t happened in far too long despite the Tour of Minnesota week of riding starting in just ten days.
Weather, or not. [it’s a battle to play with words with autocorrect on]
And you can bet we will see some weather while pedaling the pavement and camping in tents. In the 25 years I’ve ridden this adventure in June, there was only one time that the weather was gorgeous every single day. It was my first year in 1994.
I am doing my best to hang on to my sensibilities and accept whatever happens next. Planning has become optional.
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Intermittent Soaking
Making plans to do anything outside in the kind of weather we have been experiencing of late is something of a crap shoot. At least we have the consolation of not yet dealing with the threats to life and property from tornadoes like folks to our south have been facing.
What we are getting is tantalizing sunshine that almost dries the grass enough to mow before the skies switch to gloomy clouds.
Just when you figure out those clouds on the horizon are sliding past to the south, another batch of heavy gray clouds show up from the north.
In the seconds after serving the horses their grain, the cloud drops its contents in a soaking downpour.
As soon as the ground is sufficiently saturated, the rain ends and sunshine returns to evaporate the water in steaming clouds off the asphalt driveway.
Rinse and repeat. Good luck finding grass dry enough to mow without difficulty.
If it is too wet to mow, I should go for a bike ride. I don’t like riding in the rain so I am really happy I didn’t get lured out by the temporary sunshine yesterday afternoon.
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Blowing In
When Asher and I set out on our routine morning walk today, the sky was filled with heavy-looking clouds that cast a dark mood over the landscape. The weather forecast warned of strong winds but we weren’t feeling that on the ground yet. The blanket of low clouds overhead, however, was moving past at a high rate of speed.
It was as if the blue sky was blowing in.
The horses radiated a deep calm as they consumed their feed from the buckets. That sharply contrasted with the barn pigeons that were cooing with an insistence that bordered on drastic urgency. Maybe it was egg-laying time.
The ground surface around the overhang is so dry I should be celebrating freedom from coping with massive levels of mud but the reality it reflects is the threat of drought that hovers near. I had time to contemplate the current conditions because Light and Mix were both taking their sweet time about emptying the feed buckets I was waiting to retrieve.
I treasure that we have settled into a routine that allows them to eat at their individually chosen leisurely paces as opposed to the racing randomness that was happening not that long ago. There are still moments when we need to convince one or two of the horses to get out of each other’s way to end up at what has become their designated positions, but once they get there, extra shenanigans rarely interfere.
The deep calm that materializes is something I don’t take for granted.
In the time it has taken me to finish my breakfast and write this, the wind has arrived at ground level and a fresh blanket of clouds has blown in. With a little luck, maybe it could blow some needed precipitation our way.
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Relative Something 