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
Rain is getting closer
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.
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August 22, 2016
Björn Rudbergs writings 
The “feathers of the sky” seem so harmless but may instill fear if you’re exposed…
When we see them… we know that bad weather is due… it can be quite a scare when you are outdoor.
This is written, brilliantly. I especially love your haiku! It’s great to be able to read the sky – I just sit there and try to remove the clouds with my mind – has yet to work and for some reason, I always get rained on. Go figure!
Thank you.. plovers are so special for me, their call bring back memories of all those walks we have taken
yeah, I bet you’ve taken many tough ones! So have I. I guess we all have.
Excellent write – love the haiku
Thank you… 🙂
There is a beauty in those clouds, and I admire those who can read them so well.
We try… but maybe the sky is more predictable in our areas.
I too love this haiku. Learning to read the sky is a hard job but after years of study, I have partially learned. I truly love the line, cry of plovers – not just from the auditory sense but for the seasonal words of this haiku. Lovely haibun, lovely haiku.
Yes I remember that plover is a kigo … and it’s special for me…
I can see how it would be special to you. I feel the same way about the first snow – very special, almost holy.
grrr…lost connectivity so comment did not post! Love the description of lead or pewter sky — and yes! Speaking from current experience, one does not want to be hiking in rain or a clear day, with a sprained ankle!
I love the haiku with its reference to plovers. Two years ago, hiking on Cape Cod, we came up and over a very tall sand dune upon the ocean, and just as the ocean came in sight, thousands of plovers lifted up from the sand and began to soar, disturbed by our coming presence. It was a magnificent sight and a roaring rushing sound even those these are very small creatures — there were just so many flapping wings!
The plovers up north are more solitary but with a very special call that seems almost desolate…
Interesting — here we have miles of beaches roped off during plover nesting time — they come by the thousands.
I’m glad somebody else lives in a rainy climate! Your haiku is so evocative of mountain walks, and I’m glad you both know how to read the sky. On our last big walk we almost judged it right – ended up slipping and sliding down the mountainside trying to make it ahead of the rain…
Ah.. yes it can be a close call sometimes… but this time we made it with a half hours margin.
Oh, beautiful mountains, Bjorn! Although I appreciate Norfolk scenery. I need undulations in a landscape. Not enough hills let alone mountains where I live! I love the ‘song of heavy boots’!
Gosh look at the magnificent mountains 😀 love the image of the pewter sky as well as the memories that accompany it.
Another sterling poetic journey, brother; yes, your haiku is killer. Still envious of you hiking, but it’s nice that you share. I like the line /but more like lead or pewter, pregnant, weighted down with wetness./
Lovely piece. I especially like this part: “The sky grew grey throughout the day, not the billowing of cotton clouds, but more like lead or pewter, pregnant, weighted down with wetness.”
I wouldn’t like to live it (I dislike the cold) but I loved reading it.
Lovely haibun! ❤
Yes, some people can read the sky like a book. I remember how my grandparents could.
enjoyed reading your haibun 🙂 cheers!
Literally reading the sky and making it poetic too is a wonderful accomplishment.
I just thought that if rainy day be ever perfect, the one is your haibun will be that perfect rainy day – in the mountains, one sitting by the fire with a loved one. Too bad, the day has to end and somehow, one has to go back to the reality and mundaneness if life.
There has been occasions when we have sought the right place to spend a day inside… with the right book and company being weatherlocked can be perfect.
“The sky grew grey throughout the day, not the billowing of cotton clouds, but more like lead or pewter, pregnant, weighted down with wetness.” — I often feel the weight of the clouds as they darken and draw near… this description is so relatable to me. The heavier the clouds and closeness of impending rain makes me seek out a warm cozy room and blanket to curl up in. Your words truly remind me of this feeling… beautifully written.
I’m a veteran of yomping through moorland and mountains – part of my childhood experience on family holidays in Yorkshire and Wales, and also a school career of orienteering in Wales – lots of rain! You described this so very well.
Great writing Bjorn. I really enjoyed the story and the haiku.
this is beautiful…especially when the haiku added the mood to that image perfectly….Great!
‘leaving was always the only option’ – marvellous words of momentum that the boots sing! I recall the plovers’ cry as a child -pee-wit – they are rarer here now
This description is outstanding and so visual, Bjorn. You make a dark grey sky sound perfect! Leaving does become the option, though!
This has such a nice, airy quality to it – almost a stream of consciousness flow – but with enough structure to hold, not one – but, two – pieces together. That airy quality appealed to me, I think, because it really evokes an unfettered away-from-the-city ramble. You may have been seeking shelter, but there is a certain lack of stress as you go about it – sharp contrast to many city problems,
I love the ambiguity of the ending, Bjorn.