The only thing we leave behind is thought. Henry Real Bird
8.6.2010
The sky filled over as I drove home just before nine. Once inside the schoolhouse a lightning storm filled the sky completely with sheets of light at least every ten seconds... each window an illuminated square, the hills silhouetted beyond the yard, and fields in full full view. I wanted to stay awake and watch, but betrayed by tiredness slept under flashes.
8.5.2010
I was tempted to look online for weather conditions and yet, I have just been outside and know the sky is open except for haziness at the horizon. It is still cool, but there is no breeze so it may get hot later. That exhausts my ability to assess, but is really all I need to know.
8.4.2010
Complete overcast and very little sound, a slight breeze encouraging small clangs from the handle-less chains of the giant stride...nothing giant about it.
8.3.2010
It was to be a day of writing and nothing was written. But Rebecca Solnit points out that the reason country is deeper than rock is because failure is deeper than success. We learn from failure.
8.2.2010
Some days there is nothing to write about beyond the few wisps of clouds that barely interrupt a blue dome of sky overhead and their companion tremors of wind that only just brush through prairie grass below.
8.1.2010
When we left for town, cumulus clouds were accumulating in a clear blue sky, puffy and white. By the time we got back, the sky was covered. A quick squall, rain and wind, a little thunder and lightning. Everything always changing.