Imagination

As I drove home today, I noticed a mound of whipped cream over the mountains. I looked to the right and saw a floating frog. Just now, I glanced out of my window and there was an arm tightly grasping a hammer. Out my front door, an arrow was pointing to the west. Is this my imagination or can clouds tell us stories? (Word to the wise, don't check out clouds while you're driving. I had a few close calls. *Whew*). You may be asking, how can a visible mass of condensed droplets tell a story? I don't know, but they do to me.

I love watching the sky. One minute, wispy cirrus clouds leave a mark similar to that of foam from the ocean. The next, a towering giant (cumulonimbus) pours angrily across like a tidal wave. Some of my favorite clouds are the stratus, which look like dollops of heavy cream (or marshmallows, if you will) ready to be devoured. I have always enjoyed reading outside. There's something about good literature and nature that I find appealing. However, sometimes I find myself setting the book down and watching the vicissitude of the sky.

As one who has long hair, I've never relished the wind. I usually end up with a mouthful of hair whenever I leave the house. But have you ever sat and watched the clouds during a strong wind? The speed that they pass by...it's incredible. I must confess, if I had the opportunity, I would probably be a storm chaser. I have an abnormal fascination with weather and natural disasters (i.e. volcanoes, earthquakes). Normal people probably see ornery cumulonimbus clouds and get nervous. "Oh, no. I HATE thunderstorms." Excitement is what I feel. From the dark, menacing underbelly, to the majestic overhang of the anvil, I find them beautiful. As a child (I've shared a lot about my childhood. Hmmm. Oh well!), my mom, my brother and I would sit on the porch and watch storms. Rainstorms, thunderstorms, electrical storms...you name it (one that happens in Utah, that is), we probably watched it. Have you ever watched an electrical storm? The scintillating bolts leap eerily across the clouds. These are rare storms. I've only seen a few and yet they rank on my list of favorite weather anomalies. Why? They are silent. In some cases, there is no thunder due to the distance and the cloud-to-cloud arching of the lightning. The electricity snakes across the clouds, showing each intricate detail. The display from these clouds is, indeed, toward the top of my list.

Have you ever watched a beautiful sunrise or sunset? I enjoy this activity particularly. What I revel in is the colors. I'll never forget the day I looked out the window and saw the most beautiful sunset. I ran outside (with my camera) and soaked in the intense colors. The effect was like unto a rainbow. At the horizon, there was a deep, luscious red that blended into a vibrant orange. As my gaze lifted the orange softened until it met the clouds. They were purple, straight from the crayon box, the doodle of a child. You know the kind, where the kid is angry and presses the crayon so hard it snaps. That purple transfused with blue, creating a color that could never be duplicated. Looking straight up, the clouds were stained with this inimitable shade. The pictures don't do justice.

And so, I invite you to let your imagination run wild. The next time you leave your house, pay attention to the marvelous show above you. But remember...don't watch the clouds while you're driving.