April 2025
April 2nd
We report on an early April morning: the last few days have been unseasonably warm. We are looking for traces of that heat now, but it is nowhere to be found. Now that we are paying attention, something in the air reminds us of rain. The clouds turn a deeper red.
April 1st
We report: while the moon is still barely recovering from the new moon, Mars is just about the next brightest thing in the night sky - apart from Jupiter, but we cannot find Jupiter amidst the clouds tonight. In a few minutes, the brightest stars will start to come out too.
April 4th
We report while the clouds keep gathering: the light is wavering, but making stubborn attempts to reach down. The cloud cover has been present throughout the day, but there is no longing for warmth. The sun is coming through, no matter what, and it demands our wakefulness.
April 3rd
We report: it is only with the spring that we realise the world is covered in blackthorn. The white flowers have sprouted everywhere, taking over the hills and the roadsides, reflecting the sunshine. Our expert is covered in petals when they meet us today. We do not say anything.
April 5th
We report: the moon has been in the sky since midday, and we have been looking at it throughout the afternoon, easy to find in the blue sky. Now that dusk is here, its invisible companions reveal themselves - Mars again, Castor and Pollux, all regulars on this path.
April 7th
We report: we do not know when it got this dark out. The sky was not clear by any means, but the clouds that have accumulated seem to have appeared all at once, a solid wall of lead - that much darker for how the sun is so bright behind us, a warm hand on the back of our neck.
April 6th
We report upon the momentary interruption of our sleep: the birds have woken us up. We contemplate spring for a moment. The trees have been slowly filling in, and it makes us restless to see the tender leaves come out. There is something boiling underground while we slumber.
April 11th
We report about the white sun at its zenith: the world has been bleached, and even the shadows in the sky seem weak under the light. Our eyes take a long time to adjust when we come outside, and we are hit with the smells of spring too - it is quite an intense day, it seems.
April 8th
We report while the sun is slowly moving in the sky: the clouds are following the same glacial pace in their arrival, misty droplets of white falling into waves. We know not whether the accompanying cold is because of the clouds, or clouds are appearing because of the humidity.
April 9th
We report sometime between astronomical dusk and nautical dusk - either way, the sun is now several degrees below the horizon, and the night chill has already well settled in. The cumulus congestus are still tall in the sky, leftover potential of warmer hours.
April 21st
We report about the storm of the past night: the thunder a steady roll rather than distinct claps, and the lightning, diffuse flashes hidden by the shadows of rain. On the floor, the outlines of the windows cut the light in neat, contained shapes. We had no trouble finding sleep.
April 10th
We report: the clouds are coming alight one after the other, only for a moment each before the wind pushes them into the darkness again. Our expert is desperately trying to stifle their yawns. We wonder whether the rain is going away, or if it only just started to fall.
April 12th
We report: the clouds are all meeting here and now, very much over our head, to perform the pantomime of rain. It is something we have experienced a few times over the past week; it will look like rain, but we should not fret. No precipitation will occur. The clouds will move on.
April 13th
We report a few hours past midnight: the moon is ensuring that we shall stay in bright half-light throughout the night, shiny as it is in its corner of the sky. The darkness never really comes. We are only a little asleep, watching the shadows of moonlight on the bedroom floor.
April 14th
We report about one of those rainy day sunsets, when the colours and the light feel thick in the air. It is like watching the world through curtains, the bloom and the shimmer of the sun. The birds are everywhere, making the most of the last bit of daylight, and so are we.
April 15th
We report: the cirrus take to the sky like a flock of birds, extended wings on the wind, moving to the east and dropping feathers on the way. On their tails, we can see altostratus forming, slowly weaving a web around the sun. We take note of the barometer's drop.
April 16th
We report: there is rain behind us, but we suspect there might be hail ahead of us. In the meantime, although there is no storm, and thus no eye of the storm, it is eerily quiet. We can see the wind picking up the precipitation on the underbelly of the clouds, carrying it away.
April 17th
We report from a place a little north from nowhere: something like the sun is hovering out of sight, eclipsing the stars too early for our taste. We do not resent the sunrise, but we had wished for a little more night. We spend time listening to the sounds of darkness.
April 18th
We report: through the unpredictable days of April, the clouds rise and fall within moments, and sun and rain ceaselessly chase each other. It seems that at last, one has caught up to the other; we got a shower at sunset, a brief burst from clouds we cannot locate.
April 19th
We report mid-afternoon: after a brief early taste of warm days at the beginning of April, a more seasonal climate has settled in. Although we certainly feel the bite of the wind, it is not unwelcome. The blue sky is much bluer between bouts of rain than any other moment.
April 20th
We report: the clouds cannot seem to determine at which altitude to settle, and the waves roll over the sky with indecisiveness. Our expert says they are monitoring the movements of the weather for a possible thunderstorm, although we think they might actually be taking a nap.
April 22nd
We report: an evening lull amidst a wet week, the sky is staring at itself in overflowing potholes, remembering an ocean in the gravel. All the dust and the pollen have long fallen off the air in morning, and then afternoon showers, but the horizon remains a misty thing.
April 23rd
We report under the bright noon sun: this cloud keeps on rising higher and higher, showing no signs of stopping. We have seen some of its neighbours hit ceilings that this cloud does not seem to even acknowledge. We cannot help but root for this growing giant.
April 24th
We report: as we have gotten used to the longer days of spring, it is a little unsettling when the light dims mid-afternoon. Nothing very special is happening, only some rain, and the cloud cover that has gotten thick enough to trap the light inside. The world gets a bit smaller.
April 25th
We report: as we wake up in the morning, we remember this sky as if it were a dream. It falls apart in our mind, so we call our expert to describe it, and we talk about the smell of the darkness, the glint of the stars like sand in the sunshine. They tell us to go back to sleep.
April 26th
We report: the sun is crawling its way up through the clouds, and the fog is keeping a hold on the ground as best as it can, but this already feels like a sunny day. We are watching the flowers rise to face the sky, slowly opening. We can hear the dew dripping off the leaves.
April 27th
We report: we see April come to an end, and we feel late, and like we are missing spring, and summer will be here before we know it. Our expert tells us we only have to follow the clouds, because their pace is the only one that counts in the end. Why not, we will give it a try.
April 28th
We report: the air is a little heavy, and we say something like "what an odd kind of weather" to our expert, and they reply something like "isn't it just". It does not feel like rain, but it is hard to imagine how else the weather could resolve. Dandelion seeds catch in our hair.
April 29th
We report in the process of unfurling the darkness: it is night enough that we could not call this a day anymore, but still day enough that calling it a night would feel like pushing it. Although, perhaps night is when we almost slip because it is too dark to see where we walk.
April 30th
We report: the sunrise is revealing new clouds where we thought there were none, back when the whole sky was a uniform middle blue. Now a breeze starts to round out the clouds, and things are suddenly moving much faster while, as usual, we struggle to muster a single thought.