Maybe I’m a sky snob…

 As a neophyte at mindful meditation, I've been taking the time to notice and appreciate what's around me much more.... 

I've joined the Headspace tribe and I'm loving it. Let's face it, Andy Puddicombe's voice could probably persuade me to do anything. He has that effect on women. Today the Greek Goddess, a committed crazy hard-working family-loving devoted-wife and friend declared that she wants him to marry her and move in so that he can reassure her personally a hundred times a day with that sensual lilt that everything is going to work out just fine. But truthfully, I know that since we moved to The Rock I've found myself marveling at the natural beauty of the place daily, but Andy is teaching me to take even more notice. 

 Added to this, just recently, another committed-crazy family-loving friend, the Greek Philosopher, urged me to 'remember to look up'. So I've been doing just that. And I've become more than fascinated by the colours and the clouds and the patterns. I've become a bit obsessed.



Out my study window today was what I call a 'Simpsons sky': fluffy clouds scooting along, each on top of … or maybe it’s below… or in front of… the other. I thought about saying they were scudding but (a) I got caught up trying to determine why that verb is used pretty much only for clouds when it sounds to me like a dirty-undies-related word (apparently boats scud too) … and (b) it has extra-negative connotations because it implies that the clouds were going to cause all manner of explosive nastiness. So I chose scooting. Much less violent.  But feel free to replace it with skipping or flitting or even skimming if you prefer…

 Yesterday was dark and brooding  —  a mostly-Turner-sky with a single glowing gap like a reverse halo, or the hole the sugar makes as it sinks through the foam on your caffè latte.

JMW Turner, Calais Pier

WM Anderson , Cloud Latte

The Monty Python foot

But on Saturday, I drove back from a conference in Melbourne under a distinctly Monty Python skyscape. Well that’s a bit of an exaggeration. It wasn’t Pythonesque ALL the way home, just the last bit. The bit after the road curves to the right and heads downhill towards the bridge.  One almost tangible spotlight  made a perfect golden circle on the water and magical glow enclosed me in its giant dome. I expected a golden chalice to appear, or a huge foot.

The Wendy Python foot

Sir Russell Drysdale, Red Landscape

And I know Drysdale was thinking of a decidedly more inland landscape than ours here on The Rock when he created his red skies, but anyone with even the teensiest bit of artistic talent could give him a run for his money with one of our sunsets sometimes. 

Her Mighty Rockedness, Shit-hot Sunset

So all of this up-looking inspired me to look up what some of my fave poets have had to say about clouds and I declare the winner of the Shit I Wish I'd Said that First Award to be:

...  feathery curtains
Stretching o'er the sun's bright couch...
~Percy Bysshe Shelley

 

Which all just leads me to ponder the terrifying thought that maybe I've become a sky-snob.