Silhouette at sunset.

Contrast of clouds over the farm’s fields.

As you’ve likely learned by now from other blog posts, I have loved clouds since I was a kid. We owned a set of leather-bound Encyclopaedia Britannica volumes (a point of pride for my mother) kept in the living room’s built-in bookshelves, & I’d frequently pull out the volume that held the subject “cloud.” I’d search the large glossy pages that showed a variety of cloud formations. Through the years, a countless number of my hours of leisure were spent looking at pictures & sky-gazing, trying to identify which types the weather presented overhead. I still remember the pictures and names.

The fact that my dad had always had a thing for meteorology probably fueled part of my own fascination. He’d love to track rainfall, check out dams during stormy weather for surge, & travel to the ocean when swells pummeled the coastline & breakwaters. I could pretty much count on either weather forecasts or war documentaries on The History Channel if Dad had the television on. The Weather Channel won out most of the time.

The contrast between foliage & storm clouds creates a sense of drama.

Another heavy cloud formation at the farm.

Perhaps that’s my dad’s legacy to me. A particular interest in Nature’s weather phenomena. When I see unusual aspects of clouds like colors, shapes, patterns, & textures, I grab my my phone to capture the views above. (That is, unless it’s a gray-green step cloud.) It might seem silly to some to have such a fixation on something like mist in the sky, but clouds do calm me, even those storm clouds. And even looking at pictures of clouds and storm clouds.

Cumulus, like big cotton balls or cotton candy.

A pink cumulus at the farm.

When clouds speed by, propelled by wind, I still like to be outside to see the shifting shapes of shadows cast upon the landscape, to feel the lovely nip of sudden gusts as they pass through. Even the plaintive sound of the wind corraling the clouds across the sky provides me with internal & spiritual calm.

Yet, there’s a sad kind of wistfulness in hearing the wind howl, in seeing clouds forever chasing, but never actually reaching, that which they seek.

The glow of clouds over the Millyard.

Morning light illuminating clouds at the farm.

So, as an introvert, my looking at clouds in pictures or out of the window reminds me of my childhood, when my biggest worry involved choosing between crayons or markers or wondering what I’d have for lunch. We can very easily take for granted the incredible gift of free time. Time free of adult worry, work ethic, judgment, ambition, & stress in the true sense found in the modern world. Long blocks of time spent on something as whimsical as clouds & sky-gazing.

Sometimes I joke that adulthood is like walking on a treadmill while a trainer continously ups the speed & incline. You do your best to match the pace but you never really finish the race.

Clouds over my favorite place.

If you look carefully, you can see the crescent moon above the pine.

This is why slowing down enough to look at clouds, whether outside or those depicted in pictures or art, can encourage stress relief through daydreaming. Maybe it’s because clouds in the sky are always shifting and evolving? The constant movement that attracts interest without heavy thought or worry?

That is, of course, if we can shut off the chaos of adult worry long enough to observe the beauty of the clouds.

Clouds over Mount Washington, from the old Mount Washington Hotel.

Clouds over an Alabama lake.