A few weeks ago, I did a “mind sweep,” speed-writing a to-do list as long as a roll of toilet paper that included every imaginable thing that I need to do or want to do, from simple tasks to complex projects. Mixed right in there with “scan a million non-digital photos” and “schedule dentist appointment”, I typed, “Admire the clouds.”
Tonight, I’m doing exactly that. The sky is dressed in mammatus clouds lit by the setting sun.
I love the sky. This afternoon’s perfect, uninterrupted blue was startling in its post-storm clarity. Now the evening’s white fluff balls are turning silver, and will soon darken to pewter as the sun drops from sight.
Staring at clouds makes me want to do something, to respond in some way. As wonderful as this is, and as many times as I’ve waved my arms and twirled in a field where I’ve hoped no one can see me, admiring is more than that. It’s the split second when I first notice something wonderful in the sky. It’s the instant before my reflexive smile or “wow,” before the words roll in to dissect the scene into silver, white, stratus, cumulus, dog bone, feather.
Most of the stuff on my mind sweep is the typical life stuff that makes me feel “productive” when I can check something off as complete. So how did “Admiring the clouds” get on my list of things to do? While typing out the list at a maddening clip, I paused for a split second and spotted something incredible outside my window.