November and December sunrises and sunsets illustrations for my daily meteorological fiction project, Reports From Unknown Places About Undescribable Events (Twitter, Instagram).
Keep reading for captions.
November 3rd - We report: we remember around the beginning of the summer, when this time of the day the sky was bright, and the sun was still high. We do not exactly miss it; it will come back around. But we take a moment to notice the passing of time, marking a notch in our memory for later.
November 16th - We report from under this sunset: we are having thoughts about how things get old and scratched and broken over time, but the sky does not have a single scratch. It holds all those colours and those big, heavy clouds, and it gets torn up by the wind, and yet - not a scratch.
November 20th - We report, from the early morning, the wind is so strong that we are having a hard time breathing through the gusts. We are staggering down the street, whipped around as though we were a flimsy kite in the breeze. We squint between strands of wild hair to see the sun rise.
November 24th - We report: early morning, a red sun is rising through the clouds. We made our expert stay quiet for a long time so that we could appreciate the view. The water vapour is scattering most of the sun's light, except for the longest wavelengths in the colour spectrum - red.
November 28th - We report: in the face of sunsets, barometers and thermometers and anemometers, astrolabes, hygrometers and wind vanes really cannot do much. How do you measure the impression that colours and lights leave on the spectator of a particularly compelling sunset?
December 6th - We report: the clouds were so dark, and as far as we were concerned, we had seen this day's last drops of sunlight. At this moment, the wind picked up and took a few clouds along, revealing glimpses of a stolen sunset amidst the darkness. Soon enough, the gap closed again.
December 13th - We report a winter sunset as the colours bled in and out of the clouds; the blue of the sky, first, became lighter with hints of yellow. And the clouds, from grey and white to yellow and orange, and then red and pink too. We watched the sunlight lazily wash over the sky.
December 18th - We report a freezing night, and a chilly morning now. Even the sky looks cold, blankets over blankets that barely let the dawn through, small embers coming through gaps between the clouds. We take care of putting on extra layers of socks and jumpers and jackets on our way out.
December 26th - We report: we are making it through the darker days, we are making it through. We remember though, one bright and scorching summer day when the night would not come, for a moment we yearned for the darkest of winter. It is a fleeting thought in front of this burning red sky.
December 30th - We report that we are reaching the end of December, and we look for light wherever we can, still. Above the clouds, maybe, light survives a little bit longer than everywhere else, rich and glowing and it sticks to our skin. We may start parting with this year already.
