Pussywillows meet sky

Pussywillows meet sky

The sky.

Let’s discuss the sky.

I am suddenly unexpectedly enamoured by the sky.  It started last weekend (as some of you remember) with that crazy blue-colored sky on the way to Marquette.  That sky woke you up when you looked at it.  You wondered if you’d ever seen a sky that particular color before.

This morning, the Thunderbirds started rumbling.  You know what it sounds like when they rumble low in their throats.  The skies look black and blue and white and all sorts of miraculous colors, and the Thunderbirds rumble.  It sounds like poetry.  It keeps the listener alert, wondering what’s going to happen next.  Will it rain?  Will it pour?  Or will the rumbling keep to the north, or the south, or somewhere far away?

A wild & crazy sky

A wild & crazy sky

The sky changed sixteen times on the way to work this morning.  First, it was calm and dawn-like, a soft pink staining the horizon.  Then it churned.  Then it rumbled with the flapping Thunderbird wings.  Then it softened.  I kept leaping out of the car to take photos.  Snap, snap, snap!

Fortunately, we don’t have a challenging commute.  One morning, a few weeks ago, I didn’t glimpse a single other car.  This morning, maybe three or four cars passed during the ten mile ride to work.  It’s laid back.  I pulled over to the side of the road, sized up the sky, and drove another two miles, pulled over again, and never even saw a car.  We’re kinda lucky, aren’t we?

The first stain of dawn on our road

The first stain of dawn on our road

Here’s a local Ojibway (Annishnabe) legend.  In the beginning there were originally six beings who came from the sea to live with the Annishnabe.  They were the Bullhead, Crane, Little Moose, Bear, Marten and Thunderbird.  They created the original clans of the people.  Unfortunately, whenever the Thunderbird (Bineshii) looked at the Annishnabe, they died.  The other five beings urged the Thunderbird to return to the sea, because his powers were too strong for the People.  That is why the Annishnabe do not have a Thunderbird clan to this day.

Don’t you sometimes feel that thrill of fear when you hear the Thunderbirds rumbling?  I do.

Low-throated rumble predicts rain

Low-throated rumble predicts rain

After a spell of drought, followed by our massive three-day storm, the earth is lapping up the water as fast as it can.  More rain is predicted this weekend.  The news forecasters have lowered their voices and suggested “flooding possible”.  We hope not. 

Almost to work now.  Look at the sky reflected in the field-pond.

Almost to work now. Look at the sky reflected in the field-pond.

I went inside to work, not thinking too much more about the Thunderbirds.  After all, there was work to do!  Suddenly, glancing out the window, I noticed rain pouring down on the asphalt .  A few minutes later, a silvery misty fog arose all around the building.  At break-time, I hurried outside with a camera.

The mist rises and the Thunderbirds return to their cave or perhaps the sea.

The mist rises and the Thunderbirds return to their cave or perhaps the sea.

The snow is melting, melting, melting.  Amazing how fast it disappears after a good rainfall.  I enjoyed at least an hour outside in the 72 degree temperatures this afternoon, exploring and photographing emerging tree-blooms.  Another low-pressure system wandered in late afternoon and the temperatures plummeted to the 50’s.  Up and down we go, riding the roller coaster of spring.

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