If you like wind, especially the cutting cold kind, this was a day for you. I am not a fan of this weather and not even all the drama of shifting clouds could draw me out in search of the perfect photograph for the day, so this little shot from the back of Lucky’s parking lot in Larkspur will have to do for a view of the peaks, or whatever pieces of them are peaking through the clouds….
Many a mountain seems insurmountable as much for the legs as for the eyes. You think you’ll never climb over the summit, let alone see the open seas beyond it. And yet, many of those same mountains, on a closer look, turn out to be clouds pressed upon each other. Nothing more than condensation that lifts when the wind shifts or the sun rends through the flat grey horizon.
Only a few shades of grey, but just enough to wash out the light, even without rain. Our winter seems to have slipped into spring.
Even the clouds looked brighter today when the sun returned for brief periods. Some even seemed to be ready to horse around … near Horse Hill in Mill Valley….
… and the rain has landed, preceded by impatient wisps of clouds eager to hook themselves into treetops along the ridges, letting go of their meager cargo for the fun of winds that came a little late for the season …
Waiting for rain on a blue-tinged Monday. Maybe this will be the last week of winter of our spring.
Plenty of moments of clarity in “the isolation of the sky”* today; not so many for the mountain, though. Still, as Sunday mornings go, this one had plenty light to bring into relief even that “cloudy palm/Remote on heaven’s hill.”*
-from the poem “Sunday Morning” by Wallace Stevens
Early life was looseness;
even if your preferred form is fragment, you need syntax
Still, there is a “leaking” when we try to put things together.
As a bowl starts out being a bowl, the not-bowlness
drains out of it. Later,
form is not something we remember doing, like being born.
We are lived by what we didn’t have, which is not the same as
saying we distinguish it,
though sometimes the outline of my husband’s ear in the half dark
looks like Brazil-
From Loose Sugar
Ideally this would have been a shot of the mountain up close (and maybe personal) during a break from a wild mountain bike ride of sorts. Instead it is what it is: the distant peaks captured from behind the windshield of the car in a parking lot after a spinning class. All that pedaling, and I am still no closer to getting myself on a real bike….
That cloud hang on for dear life, taking a stand against the onslaught of light. It puffed itself up, as if to envelope the slope in dark shadows. It stood its ground, or should I say stayed tethered by its anchor in the blue bowered seas of the sky. Full as that cloud was of steam, in the end, the wind, buoyed by sun, rolled it away and dropped it at the edge of the horizon.