Clouds (no. 1–4)

Clouds express the movement and energy of invisible atmospheric forces. They have shaped the world since the beginning of time and will continue to do so for millenia.

I’m blessed to have a wide view of the drama. Two large bay windows in my home frame the skies above San Francisco, and a roof deck gives me uninterrupted views to the Golden Gate and beyond. Sometimes, I’ll glance up from my dinner when a pink sunset reflects across the low clouds blanketing a large swath of sky. Other times, I’ll look up and stretch as I’m tending to my rooftop seedlings, and I’ll lose myself in the white puffs that drift above my head. And occasionally, when I need a break from my computer screen, I’ll seek out the fog tendrils brushing by, changing shape from one second to the next as they wind around out manmade obstacles.

The big, full clouds are the ones I see the most. They’re usually in layers, and at the right time of the day each layre captures the light a little differently. I wonder how high the layers go. Sometimes, the edges gleam. They remind me of the ocean’s depths, catching the sun just so. Like an ocean in the sky.

The western edge of the city gets its fair share of overcast days. These are the days when the textures show themselves most. Far from unifrom, the clouds will bunch up in strange patterns. The sight makes me think of beach days.

The skies change so quickly that I can never quite capture them accurately on paper. Though I still try.

The showiest views are the sunsets. In the spring and autumn, I’ll often spend part of my evenings waiting for the sun to dip below the horizon. When the shadows deepen into grays and blues, the clouds become a brilliant jewelbox, streaking across the sky amidst a wash of dark velvet. Then the lines and waves gradually soften until the warmth disappears, always faster than I wish.