We’ve learnt is to fear the feathers of the sky. You might think the sky is perfect, a perfect blue, but if it’s marred by cirrus clouds, the wind will carry rain. or even sleet. Those thin striations, are harbingers and you know the day will end with rain.
“We should seek shelter for the night”, you said, pointing at the sky. “It will rain by 3”.
“We will make it to the hut, though, let’s walk”.
Rain in mountains can be very wet, but worse is passing over slippery rocks. You have to tread with care as walking with a sprained ankle is often difficult.
The sky grew grey throughout the day, not the billowing of cotton clouds, but more like lead or pewter, pregnant, weighted down with wetness. But not until we were inside the pitter-patter on the windows started. We lit a fire as the cabin started to fill up with other wanderers who didn’t read the sky as well as you.
The next day it was still raining, but leaving was always the only option.
song of heavy boots
the path leads further on –
cries from plovers
Today Toni inspires us to write haibun on clouds for Haibun Monday at dVerse. The call of golden plovers is very characteristic for the Scandinavian North, and it soon becomes as much of a background sound as the sound of gulls by the sea. Join us at 3 PM EST when the bar opens.
August 22, 2016