Sunday, October 21, 2012
Swiping my rewards card over the scanner, the cashier casually commented, "Bad timing on the rain, I know we need it, but there are meteor showers this weekend." I felt worthy of this new knowledge. How cool! The annual Orionid Meteor shower, and we might be able to see it!
Everywhere I have lived, Sky has been impressive. I have always tried to be aware of Sky's power and honor its greatness.
Sky orchestrates Colorado storms. Warnings come in the form of afternoon thunderheads, sometimes manifesting in seconds. Sky hurls lightening and lashes victims with torrential rains and then gifts rainbows as if to apologize for its grandiose explosion.
Sky is omnipresent. Montana Sky overshadows the miles of flat prairie and abrupt jagged mountains that catch Sky's clouds. The collected clouds become Winds' kites. They take flight chasing each other upon the background of radiant blue, across great distances. Stumbling upon each other they drop sheets of rain then disperse, as if in a dance.
Sky has shown me a Mid West backyard funnel. Tension between land and Sky; sunlight pressing the line of grim clouds and the earth in opposite directions. Terrestrial particles whirlwind into formations, then dissolve, succumbing to gravity, littering the contours of the fields.
Sky once invited me to a freak Hurricane. It was cause for toasting at the time.
Storms off the Great Lakes envelop cities in a dousing of snow and ice; sometimes juggling temperatures to wreak havoc. Sky playfully melts then freezes the landscape, encasing everything with a weighty ice that dictates a pause in human routine.
Sky gives me spectacular jaw dropping visions on the coast of Oregon. Fog, Sun and Wind create free form dances that swirl together. Greg Brown's Two Little Feet often chimes in my head "Cloud coming down, Cloud coming down..." Fog closes the space around me then suddenly lifts up for sparkling vistas of ocean and cliffs. Sky provides ripping storms that roar fierce, resuscitating the things not tied down and drowning them in sideways rains. Sky procures inspiring sunsets, the kind that stops our town, friends phone to tell each other to step outside to soak in the beauty. These moments sustain us through the gray days where Sky vacations high over head, selfishly hoarding Sun.
I am reminded just how insignificant I am when I step out under Sky's awning, adapting to whatever Sky presents. Last night, Sky kept the meteor shower private. Maybe Sky will share with me next year.