“Clouds do not really look like camels or sailing ships or castles in the sky. They are simply a natural process at work. So too, perhaps, are our lives.” – Roger Ebert
Chance of cloudy.
Splashes of joy.
When I was a boy, summer afternoons laying on grass watching clouds go by – imagining what characters those clouds resembled – those shapes begat stories, of dinosaurs and monsters, made laughs easy, easy ways to spend a day. Hot cloudless sunny days were fun, but partly-cloudy days were better days for play and enjoyment of the joys of childhood, and those clouds.
Clouds, are misty eyed and mystified – where in sadness we weep or in celebration we feel, men don’t cry so much as we get cloudy.
Cloudy mind – kind you can’t see through, cloudy feelings.
Clouds work for us now – we bring the cloud to work and take it home too – just when society was morphing to a 4 day work-week – it expanded. What once was 8-4 or 9-5 daily for 5 days a week, thanks to technology and the cloud, grown to 24/7. We receive information, ideas, news, YESs, NOs, good news and bad news. We can turn off the phone or power-down the computer but the flow doesn’t stop.
New tools – devices and software, super-highways, bandwidths and doing work in the cloud – all part of everyday conversation.
Cloudy, a term with so many meanings – in a fluid, when a jar in the fridge has gone cloudy, we toss it. Not because it is bad, but because it is cloudy and we don’t trust what we don’t know to be good . . .
Not a patient person – I always want clouds to part so I can see the sky, bathe in the sunshine – clarity is what I need. Not knowing, waiting for news, waiting for technology to deliver messages, details and photos describes this anxiety driven state we (well, I am for sure) in too much of the time . . .
I want the clouds to open – show me how things are, I want the clouds to dream and scheme on, I want the clouds to deliver important messages. I want to know, I want it now.
Bright, warming, chance of cloudy.
And speaking of kids . . .
To see two boys.
One for the first time.
One for possibly the last.
Gary’s been out of touch for a few days – not sure how things are going, so visiting the hospice is a must.
And, I’ll see and hold Isla’s ‘not yet named’ baby brother.
Sure, I’ll hug Carla and Chad, but I’ll hold that little boy – delivered at 6:45AM this morning (text message and photo came out of the cloud at 7:32 this morning).
I’m getting cloudy.
column written/ published from Calgary
morning walk: 6C/43F, some clouds but clearing up, light breeze filled our nostrils – a short walk on still very slipper terrain … but those squirrels are frenetic – surely spring is near!
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