August 10th
We report in the worn out afternoon, around the same time as the day before. After everything, the churning, tearing and whirling of the clouds, it comes back to this: tired blue and faded light filtered through the dust and the damp that live in the sky. We breathe through it.
August 9th
We report: we are reaching the end of the afternoon, and the weather has not been decided today. We have been witnessing a back and forth, some of the clouds dissipating as others are building up. There is static electricity in the air, and we get a jolt when we touch our expert.
August 8th
We report yet another iteration of a classic summer scrape: on a hot night when the heavy air keeps us awake, we open our window. In the morning, the cold, humid air leeches all the warmth away, waking us up. We grouse as we go to close it, but the smell of dawn is a joy.
August 7th
We report in the light of a waxing gibbous moon, a grand two percent short of full. Our expert is complaining about the ongoing attacks of mosquitoes, but they are the one who suggested this moongazing spot. Up here, the wind rattles the seedheads in the tall grass.
August 6th
We report on a day when the cloud cover is thick, has not budged all day; yet the sunshine has found a way down here. When we stand still, we hear the summer insects living their summer lives, even on this windy, cloudy day. The crickets jump in front of our feet.
August 5th
We report: it does not always feel very right, naming clouds. Sometimes, it seems inadequate, not to mention a hardship, to point at a mirage, and to call it out in its most transient, liminal form. The words are never enough to define what is never static, always ephemeral.
August 4th
We report as the sun is bruising purple behind clouds. It takes us some days to realise it, but this August already feels like a summer's end. As always, we smell it in the air; subtle, but something colours it with deep, earthy tones. Today, there is melancholy in newborn light.
August 3rd
We report: along country paths, a lot of umbels have been going to seed early. In the dark and the fog, our expert is trying to figure out what is hogweed, and what is Queen Anne’s lace - crouched in the tall, sodden grass, their neck craned to examine the leaves and the stems.
August 2nd
We report: welcome to a short moment in time when the clouds are just like this. It took the wind, the amount of humidity in the atmosphere and the pressure of it too, some seawater, and us looking up at the whole picture. The sky has never been and will never be this again.
August 1st
We report: July was so full, bright, and hot; August meets us with a slow burn, and shy glances from the sun. The clouds will not settle into any one shape. We appreciate the lack of extremes in the mild weather, and even the wind that has us keep a jumper in our backpack.
