The variations in weather, sunlight and storm alternating all day on Thursday provided a rich show of colours and clouds.
The particular delight of this scene for me is not only the range of colour but the intensity of the pastoral green in the foreground contrasted with the deep grey of the storm over the Tsawwassen bluff in the distance (right). The patch of blue, which an old school-friend would remind me, is definitely 'enough to patch a sailor's pants' but in this instance it was not a guarantee of sunshine to follow. I love it though, especially with the heavy grey and white clouds, and the glint of light on the rocky islands offshore (Lion Islets for those of you with marine charts).
Life itself is full of variety in texture and colour. Vibrant. Bright colourful parts, and scary dark parts. Maybe that's something of why I am so drawn to this ever changing view. It's brim-full of life and change. Always. And in its variety, it stirs in me, at the very least, awe. Wonder.
The variations in the weather today have captivated me. From this morning's thunderstorm and heavy downpours to the quieter moments of sunlight bursting through and highlighting the berried arbutus and the freshly renewed grass after the summer's baking heat, it has all been wonderful. From one moment to the next we've been witnessing the rapidly shifting moods of weather and variations in light.
The photo (from this afternoon, after yet another thunder shower) shows something of the magnificence of the display, and the turbulence of the air as the weather moves through.
The sun is setting far earlier than in the warmer days of summer. Autumn is truly upon us which made our rowing expedition particularly sweet the other day, the last sunny day of the recent stretch of spectacular weather. The reflections on the water, the light and shadow, the ringed pattern of the drips from the oars, and the darkness of the shore as the sun dropped behind the cedars— all perfectly lovely.
Heading homeward offered this glimpse of peace and safe harbour, with the assurance of a warm fireside, and hot supper...and 'thawing' my very cold bare feet.
The rain has started in earnest now. Its not a gentle sprinkling as we had overnight but a proper and welcome rain, pounding on the roof.
There was a brief pause between the overnight showers and this more definite, steady downfall, and it was in that pause I went out with the dogs, on our usual morning round. In the southeast there was one tiny window in the clouds, the lower edge gilded by the sun rising behind. That window is now tight shut, but it provided a lovely glimpse of the light that's ever present, even while obscured.
Yesterday afternoon's dog walk we ended up back at the beach. The water was completely still— so unusual. And a very thin mist, not quite fog, hung over the Strait. It looked so much like sea and sky melted into each other as though there was no horizon at all. Or just barely so. I can actually see it, and also a ferry approaching the Pass. Its almost obscured, but not quite.
What I love about this scene is the range of blues, from pale, soft, through a rich royal blue, and into the deep indigo in the foreground.
And I love the suggestion of there not being a horizon at all... which is true. Once you get there, its still just as far away...
The reward for venturing out with our two Goldens this morning: the rising sun spread its light through the one opening in the cloud, lit up a path of light on the water, and gave a rosy gold hue to the underside of the clouds.
In the brightness, just to the right of centre you can see the outline of the mountain peaks of Washington State. The southern shoulder of Mt. Baker, just barely discernable in the centre of the light. (Click on the image to see it full sized).
❧❧❧
Happily the time of sunrise is getting later: one of the benefits of autumn. I'm grateful not to be sleeping through the glories of the early morning light-shows like the one I was grateful to see and posted here.
For sheer magnificence and awesomeness, nothing to me surpasses the wide sky looking out across the Strait. This view is looking north from our spot in the Gulf Islands, toward the mainland and Vancouver, and up Howe Sound (left). The clouds gathering over the North Shore Mountains are stunning, and the sweep of cirrus... a wonderful contrast. It all underscores the drama of the daily weather.
glimpses of the extraordinary amidst an ordinary day