May 9th

We report: we see the storm approaching on the radar, but the first boom of thunder still startles us in its echo. We count between flash and thunder in order to gauge the distance, and we find it dwindling fast between each strike. We feel the ground rumbling through our heels.

May 8th

We report: in time, we have come to understand that when cirrus appear on their own in the sky, they tend to precede warm fronts. Now, we have to stay here, and figure out whether they are getting thicker, or remaining the same. This could take a good while longer.

May 7th

We report: it was sunset last time, and it is sunrise this time, but we think the same jackdaw is following us. It would be bold to call ourselves certain, and nothing looks more like a jackdaw than another jackdaw, but our expert thinks its feathers are ruffled the same way.

May 6th

We report: the constellations are broken up by the clouds, and we are too close to sleep to make sense of these things anyway. It feels easy to let go, to not wonder about what kind of clouds they are, or the names of the stars. The wind blows from the darkest corner of the sky.

May 5th

We report: scud clouds are leading ahead of the storm cell while the weather is taking its time deciding where to go next. There was a heavy shower earlier, and it suddenly got cold after a relatively mild morning. Even now, the sun is out, but it has not fully stopped raining.

May 4th

We report about fishbones in the sky; our expert specifically looks out for those. From our understanding,  this is not necessarily out of scientific curiosity, but rather out of liking the look of them. We catch these cirrus vertebratus as they are dissipating.

May 3rd

We report: May is, so far, colder and wetter than April had been, which is something we had hoped for. Smelling leftover rain suspended in the air is an essential experience to our concept of spring. And then anyway, the sun emerges last second, so we may all be content.

May 2nd

We report: we did not take our expert seriously when they said there would be a thunderstorm in the night, because they were wrong the five previous times they did. Now, just woken up from thunder, we think we will have to apologise in the morning. It starts raining more heavily.

May 1st

We report: we are teetering on the brink of weather change. We got excited a few days ago when we realised the wind was turning, but it turned all the way back into its original direction. Now, we watch the clouds, feel a raindrop, and we think this is a good sky for change.

April 30th

We report: we too were, some moments ago, in the shadow of a cloud. Because it is not much of a windy day, it was minutes before we were in the sunshine again. In the undergrowth, the humidity makes the warm air thicker, and turns it cold at the drop of a hat.

April 29th

We report: the sunset lures us outside. We huff and puff a little, but we put our shoes back on, and as soon as we see more of the sky, we know it was worth it. We walk up the street to look for the horizon, accompanied by a jackdaw. The colours slowly leech out.

April 28th

We report: the moon again, now only a few days away from revealing itself completely. The swifts are flying in and out of a swarm of midges, and later, we see a bat as well. The evenings feel more and more alive and busy, like we are missing out when we go to sleep.

April 27th

We report: the conditions are so stable that even when the clouds dissipate, they form again in the exact same spot, in the exact same shape. We were here for hours, and the sky looked so very similar each time we compared it; our sense of time became more and more nebulous.

April 26th

We report: the clouds are moving away from us, along an invisible path on which we cannot follow them. We looked at the surface pressure maps carefully this morning, the red and blue lines, the triangles and the half circles, the isobars. We almost predicted the wind direction.

April 25th

We report about this sunset: for the first time this spring, the evening wind is not getting our nose to run. Later on, when the sun is long gone, it obviously gets much colder. But at this moment, the breeze is kind, and we cannot help but feel really good about it.

April 24th

We report: now just past its first quarter, the moon is doing really well in getting brighter and larger in our sky. We would be very concerned if it ever did badly in that endeavour, which means we have to appreciate the smooth process of the cycle now and then.

April 23rd

We report: stationary high pressure zones have been keeping the weather very mild and easy around here. There is enough air flow circulating that there are fluctuations here and there, but only just. Despite this all, the sky is still new and different every day.

April 22nd

We report about the sun, very high in the sky. Well into April, midday, this is where we expect it to be, but we had not noticed the height of the sun in some time. We were thinking about the beginning of spring for weeks, but we missed how it settled: windy, sunny, very green.

April 21st

We report: we are here when the sun falls into the sea, and once it has gotten very deep below the surface, nothing remains of the sky. Meanwhile, the waves never stop rolling; in the dark, they look much colder than when our nose was burning in the sunshine.

April 20th

We report about a dank night in city lights: there is a sheen to the sky, pearlescent and vaguely eerie in the past-midnight brightness. Impossible to tell the hour, if not for the stillness of the world. We stumble, spooking a cat into hissing and crab-walking down the street.