Early in the morning, the sun’s first rays hit the top of the hills and one lonely leftover cloud. I’ve learned keep the camera handy and to drop everything when the light is right. Sure enough, less than a minute later, the light changed and the magic was gone.
I didn’t have the heart to add
Another drop of rain
With all the cloudbursts you have had
It could become a pain.
I’d rather brighten up your day
With promises of joy
For drought relief, a price you pay
Too much rain can annoy.
Think RED. Now imagine this full moon as red as the ring around it. That’s how it really looked. The smoke in the air gave the moon the colour of blood. I’m sorry my camera doesn’t show how red it was.
I thought it was interesting that the end of a tree branch is silhouetted against the moon’s face.
The next day, as Paul Simon said …
It was a sunny day,
Not a cloud was in the sky.
Not a negative word was heard,
From the people passing by.
Not clouds made of water anyway. It would have been a bluebird sky if it wasn’t for the smoke. The sun was so red last evening that I thought I was looking at the red planet in a science fiction movie. It was eeeeeeeerie! Again, the photo doesn’t show the true colour I saw. Like the moon the night before, the sun was blood red. Today it’s more of the same. Smoke fills the skies.
We have natural disasters all over the world. Wildfires, floods, and hurricanes. These are all extremely hard to deal with. What I don’t understand is why we need to add man-made disasters (terrorism, political power struggles, crime, and war) to the mix.
I just had a note from WordPress letting me know this was my 500th post. My first reaction was, “Wow! Isn’t that great?” but then I thought, “Uh-oh! Am I talking too much?” 😉
The official weather groundhogs (marmots), Nova Scotia’s Shubenacadie Sam and Ontario’s Wiarton Willy have predicted an early spring this year when they did not see their shadows yesterday, February 2, Groundhog Day.
Vancouver Island marmot photo above, borrowed from Vancouver Island Marmot Recovery Foundation.
Hurray, an early spring is on its way. Behold the sunshine on the masses of gray cloud moving in from the southeast. Yes, the sunshine is hopeful, BUT, I forgot to consider what is INSIDE those clouds.
I shouldn’t have believed a mere rodent when he predicted that early spring. In the last post I had sunshine brightening up pussywillows, and today, the very day after the early spring prediction, these glowing clouds opened up and ruined everything. They made liars of the marmots and Nervous Nellies out of all the wussy drivers of the rainy West Coast.
Just LOOK at this mess! Beautiful, isn’t it?
In my younger days when I heard the weatherman talking about a front moving in, I had only a vague idea of what that meant. It was some “up in the sky” kind of condition involving air pressure and a lot of other complicated meteorological terms. Later, I clued in that sometimes you can see the effects of a “front.” I can more easily understand things that I can see.
This morning I saw a front in action in the sky outside my house. I used to think the front was the edge of the clouds moving in like a giant wall. Amazingly, the cloudy side was not advancing, as it usually seemed to do. This one was backing off. Instead, the edge of the blue sky was pushing away the wall of clouds. The wind was coming from the north, bringing clear, cold air into the valley.
The rising sun put a pink glow on the clouds and the snow on the hilltops.
Just in case we’re all getting too happy about the sunny day, I need to let you know that later in the morning, the winds changed to southeast and precipitation is sure to follow sometime soon. If only I could save some of that rain for the summer when the drought is sure to hit again.
Wild and wonderful and free
Is how the ocean looks to me.
Foam that flies across the road,
Wind and waves that toss their load
Of logs and seaweed on the land,
Leave them lying on the sand.
Imagine standing in those rollers,
Feel the power bowl you over.
No, no, no. I’m not that crazy.
Where’s my camera? I’ll be lazy.
It’s too chilly for such folly,
Best go home and deck with holly.
The colours of fall are amazing. As we drove through Montana on our way back to the coast, the brown hills near Missoula impressed us with their brilliant deciduous growth in the valley bottoms.
Even before learning the name of the huge trees with almost black bark, I have loved the look of the black cottonwoods. In Montana’s ever-present breeze the leaves whisper soothingly. It does the soul good just to stand quietly under one of these trees, close your eyes and listen.
I don’t know what the red shrubs are that don’t mind getting their feet wet in the creeks and rivers, but I saw the same shrubs growing in the small waterways of southern British Columbia as we drove home. If I were a painter, I wouldn’t hesitate to set up my easel here.Or here! I love the white bark on the trees below. Are they birch? Poplar? I don’t know, but they’re beautiful.
Notice how yellow and brown the grass is. It’s usually fairly dry here.
Now see how green the grass is in the photo below. We are on the coast and the wet weather reminds us that we’re nearly home. That tree floating in the bay is a Douglas fir that was washed away from the banks of the river and has floated all the way into the estuary. It was a very tall tree, although it may be hard to tell from the photo. I later saw this same tree in a video clip someone posted to the weather network.
Just a couple more miles to home. We’ve driven past flooded fields and a cresting river. So glad we live on high ground.
It looks like a comet, but it’s not. It looks like a splotch on the truck window or the camera lens, but it’s not. As I drove past, I had to admit that the thing that might have been a sun with a halo,… wasn’t …
unless there are two suns. Maybe it’s a mini rainbow on the edge of a cloud?