Reflections on the puddle of life

There is something about the sky, the clouds, which draw my eyes upwards, cricking my neck to watch them. When I was a child I would spend many hours lying in the grass looking for patterns in the sky and now, whilst my adult life means that there is no time for resting and watching, I still feel that fondness for the sky, the fascination of clouds which connects me to the past, and days when more innocent pleasures were the focus of my day.

Last Sunday dawned with promise. The sky was a cool winter blue, the sun low on the horizon, perfect sky watching weather. We wrapped ourselves up against the cold and my children and I went for a long walk to the local valley park, ostensibly to feed the ducks, but more for the simple pleasure of walking, just for the sake of it. The children chattered and ran along the road, looking at the sheep and cows, while my attention was diverted by this:



the most wonderful sky. It was as though the sun were a stone dropped in the great pool of the sky, and the clouds had rippled out from it. I wondered, if I knew the names of the clouds would it make them any more beautiful? Is this why people classify things, objects, creatures, as though so doing will capture their essence, unquestioningly? For my part I was happy just watching and walking.

Later on we saw a cloud which stretched across the sky like a backbone. I tried to capture it :



but I am no surgeon, and after a few moments it was gone. I wondered if this was another message, beauty is brief but plentiful. Then I turned and these clouds appeared, swirling like a galaxy born, lived and died in the space of a few moments, at the whim of a few gusts of wind.



So I thought I would share them with you. I hope you enjoy them as much as I did.