Summer skies from my daily meteorological fiction project, Reports From Unknown Places About Undescribable Events (Twitter, Instagram)
Keep reading for captions.
July 14th - We report that sometimes, the sun leaves its tendrils suspended in the sky, to dissipate over a long time. Some lingering warmth and some light frozen in the steam. The way we look at it, at least - this is a little bit to last for ages in our mind.
July 18th - We report, as the sky erupts in vibrant colours in the last moments of the day, most of the summer heat is starting to lift from the city. The asphalt is still radiating warmth. The streets smell like brake dust and exhaust fumes. We can feel a light breeze starting to blow.
July 21st - We report: tonight, our expert asked us, "Hey, what's this?" and when we looked at the direction in which they were pointing, we replied, "You mean, the moon?" and they said, "The what, now?". We still have not determined whether this was a joke or not. We are worried it was not.
August 2nd - We report altocumulus lenticularis, those stationary clouds that tend to form above mountains and other relief. In a show of the wonderfully complex forces that shape our world, these clouds are responding to turbulence in the air by forming relief of their own.
August 11th - We report: there are moments in summer when everything seems just right. There; the day is winding down. The sun is setting, and there is a little bit of a breeze. It smells like warm grass, but it is not so hot anymore. It is almost so perfect that we do not know what to do.
August 15th - We report: the sky has been cloudy at night through the peak of the perseids, and even now it remains so - but we have managed to find a few shooting stars in the space between the clouds. We take deep breaths in the dark to shake the stars behind our eyes.
August 19th - We report: it is a day for storms, heavy and muggy. Everyone that we have met today has been a little bit antsy, a little bit touchy. No storms yet, so far, although the cloud formation in the sky is enough to make us think something is bound to happen.
August 20th - We report a green flash at sunset. We were not looking to see a green flash today - you do not really plan out these things, you see. It felt like it was already too late for it to happen. We were ready to go home, but we looked back one last time, and that is when we saw it.
August 24th - We report that we do not fully understand most things, on account of them being numerous and infinitely complex. One thing that we do fully understand, though: in the event of a good sunrise or sunset, it is paramount that we stop and stare for no less than a full minute.
August 29th - We report: summer is waning, the sun's course is getting lower in the sky every day. We are thinking about when the season began, and we did not want to part with spring - but the feeling is always a little bit more complicated with summer. It is a different type of melancholia.
