I remember when I came from Oregon to Iowa the first time in July, 1979, having urges to throw the windows open, wanting to escape the air conditioning. It's something you can't do this time of year, though I do take frequent breaks and move myself outdoors several times each day.
As I watched the clouds, and the vast patches of blue sky, I recalled that movie years ago--A Patch of Blue, with Sidney Poitier and Elizabeth Hartman, about a romantic relationship between a black man and a blind, white, teenage girl. Aunt Julia and I went to see it one summer afternoon when I was fourteen. People were so scandalized by it, they got up and walked out of the the theater; something that made a lot bigger impression on me than the movie.
This morning's clouds were mountains. I was also reminded of Annie Dillard, in her book For the Time Being, talking about artists who went to the trouble of painting clouds, or writers who described them. Some of us photograph them. As you know.
Clouds symbolize the storms that surge through my own life from time to time, at times producing lightning, thunder, hail and high winds. More often, they're drenching downpours that pass through quickly. Or squalls that threaten and then move on. This morning's clouds came to not much.
I also picked up two treasures:
I felt grateful that words began once again to flow freely through and around me--blocked until I could finish the Santa Fe part of the blog, which confirms my belief that there is no such thing as writer's block. (It only means something else needs your attention right now. Maybe it's a task. Maybe you need to forgive someone. I learned this years ago from my friend and mentor, Jan Johnson.) A new character even showed up for the novel. Her name is Nanette Spruill. I don't know who she is, yet.
Soon after I found the nest, a jay feather appeared. Usually, these are white with black markings, or blue.
There's something in all of this that enables me to savor the day; to appreciate and live it more fully; to connect with and give praise to the Creator.