There was a great sky on my drive home today.
Not a perfect sky. Not the kind of sky you see in paintings. It wasn’t the kind of sky that makes you wonder how a colour can actually, possibly be that blue. There weren’t perfect little white clouds. It would be nobody’s desktop wallpaper, nobody’s choice as a wallpaper in a Pixar movie. There wasn’t a sunset, painting with every colour in the box. There wasn’t hardly a sun to be seen, just sunlight.
Today’s sky was chaotic. It had every kind of cloud I could think of. A meetup of different sizes and shapes and types.
There were big white fluffy clouds and little streaky clouds. There was haze and glare and a misty thing that turned the sky white in places. There were floofy contrails and razor-sharp thin contrails and ragged, medium-sized contrails, all hanging in the air like they’d always been there.
There were swirls and whirls and whorls, streaks and stripes and smears and ribbons, cotton balls and cotton wadding and cotton batting. Every way you could want a cloud was present and accounted for in the sky at the same time.
Not a perfect sky. Not the sky you think about when you think “sky.” But a really great sky. One of the better ones.
As always, everyone, paddle your own canoe.
Trevor
