cloud watching – When Life Gives You Lemons

Our journey home from Newcastle was trying to say the least. The six and a half hour drive stretched to ten as my poor husband negotiated road closure after road closure; jam after jam. By the time we reached home, it was 2.30 am and we were both exhausted.

That said, I am glad we went. My brother-in-law’s funeral was beautiful and the reception a wonderful opportunity to meet and console those we love. And the drive brought its own blessings.

Look to the skies

With little else to do, I spent most of the journey looking at the sky and it put on the most incredible display. Leaving Newcastle, it was Mediterranean blue with fluffy ivory clouds sculling across. It certainly provided a more pleasurable view than the car in front’s number plate.

**Blue skies, nothing but blue skies** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Such skies have a hypnotic quality and I’ll happily watch clouds form and reform for hours in a sort of meditative trance. They certainly help pass the time.

Symbols of hope

As we moved further south, sudden showers burst forth. The once clear blue was now splotched with deep purple grey patches and I thought it was the perfect combination for rainbows.

And I was right. A huge rainbow appeared to our left and then was soon accompanied by another, less defined one, arching over the first in parallel. I nudged Jeff to look (we weren’t going too fast!) and we both enjoyed the spectacle. Then I realised that the second rainbow’s colours were a mirror image of the first. This being only the second double rainbow that I’ve seen, I was fascinated. How was this possible? Was this normal?

Once home, I looked it up without success and asked those I knew. My sister, a master at Google, found the answer. It is normal, but no less miraculous for that. Here’s the science. https://youtu.be/nzgNM-P_JCQ?si=zlyDhlgicUpF5EC9 Don’t worry, the clip is only one minute long and entirely comprehensible to the least scientific among us.

And here’s the rainbow we saw in Maine:

**Double rainbow!** Image: Genevieve Costello-Spears

If you look closely, you’ll see that the darker colours are on the interior of the bands and the lighter colours on the exterior.

One to tick off on the bucket list

You would think that a double rainbow would be enough excitement for one day, but nature had yet another unusual occurrence for us to enjoy. As it grew dark, we noticed an eerie green mist-like light hovering above the horizon. How strange we mused – there are no cities causing reflected light and that green is most peculiar. I chuckled to myself that it was what the Northern Lights look like to the naked eye and dismissed it as improbable. Only when I returned home and read Mariia’s message to say look out for the Northern Lights, did I appreciate what I’d seen.

**Aurora Borealis By Frederic Edwin Church** courtesy of Wikipedia

Our Aurora was not the dancing light show, but the more common green haze. I’m not fussy – it was still amazing and has saved me a trip to Iceland!

And there’s more …

Whilst the sky had entertained us throughout our tedious journey, it had more to offer when we got home. The Harvest Moon (a super moon) was due just days and I was determined to enjoy it in its full glory.

We set off to the beach to watch as it rose from the sea and were given a glorious sunset as an appetiser. While we stood transfixed, Hermione paid no attention – she just played with her ball.

It was a warm evening and listening to the waves and watching the moon appear from a faint glow to a great ball of white gold was spectacular.

Harvest moon Image: Jeff Costello-McFeat

The harvest moon is so called because it allowed farmers to work late into the night to bring in their crops. It was also favoured by smugglers and ‘moon rakers’ in Wiltshire! As its rising follows the sunset at the right angle, it is often golden or even red before it moves higher in the sky.

There was also a partial eclipse in the early hours of the morning, but I had had enough excitement and needed my sleep.

Slow TV

We usually look for entertainment in digital media or organised events, hoping for ever more extreme and original fare. Yet, to me, the best entertainment is free and accessible to all. The skies are constantly changing, never repeating. Aligning our sights to them allows us the benefit of enjoying masterpieces, which even the greatest artists could not surpass.

The skies also have the benefit of making us realise how small we are in the great scheme of things, which is not to say that we are diminished, but rather find our rightful place. When we watch the skies with awe and wonder, we are both humbled and grateful and our spirits are raised.

There is no post again next week, as we are going to enjoy the wonders of Italy. I hope to share some manmade marvels with you next time. Ciao!

Some days, when I was very ill, fatigue swept over me like a giant wave leaving me stranded on the shore like an unfortunate starfish slowly drying in the sun.

On such days I could do nothing. Reading was exhausting. Even watching the television or listening to radio was more than I could cope with. At the beginning, I found it terrifying. What if I would never regain any energy? What if I could never properly wake up? Fear and frustration made a bad situation worse, but I was rescued by the view from my window. I was rescued by what my husband aptly named caveman TV. There is only one channel – but what a channel it is serving an absolutely endless array of beauty and action. A word of caution: it is addictive.

Sky TV

A room with a view Photo: Karen Costello-McFeat

At that time, I had a day bed located in the bay of my lounge window overlooking the rear garden. Lying down, I could not see the garden, of course, but I could see the sky. And what a magnificent sky it was. In normal life, we seldom look up except to perhaps check the weather, but now I had hours to really look – to study the colours, to follow the clouds as they shape shifted into innumerable forms. It was magnificent.

I am not alone in my love of this natural cinema. There is a Cloud Appreciation Society which publishes books with the most exquisite cloud formations, though I am happy with the most modest ones. And if I can’t convince you of the joy of cloud watching, I urge you to look at Gavin Pretor-Pinney’s TedTalk below:

Enter stage left

The clouds provided a pretty spectacular display that calmed my frayed nerves and made me feel my bed was less of a prison and more of a viewing platform. If the clouds were an ever changing backdrop, the birds were the actors that peopled the stage; their antics were as entrancing as any high-wire act.

Since I live close to the sea, the sky is always full of seagulls. Despite their (unjustified) bad reputation, these are magnificent creatures. Their aerial skills every bit as magnificent as their more celebrated cousin, the hawk.

Joining them in the sky are starlings, crows, wood pigeons and magpies. Each has its own style. Each their own personality. Each as unique as the clouds they pass over.

Natural healing

Periods of such lassitude are infrequent now, thankfully, but my craving for the garden has never waned. If anything, it has expanded with my ability to more fully immerse myself within it. Should a morning go by without a visit outside, I start to feel unsettled and fidgety. This is cured by a quick trip to the shed, if it is cold/wet, or a turn about the garden if the weather is more clement. Though I might pick the odd weed on my wanderings, I feel no particular need to do anything more than observe.

This quiet watching has proven incredibly therapeutic. I initially thought it might be because it reminded me of so many happy hours spent outside as a child. It transpires that the reason is more scientific. Studying nature is what our brains are designed to do. The very composition of trees and flowers align easily with the pattern seeking element of our minds and quite literally soothes them. The colours green and blue also require little effort for our brains to translate and thus wash over us without creating ripples of anxiety. Urban landscapes, in contrast, with their garish colours, unpredictable movement and linear forms do. All this explains why cities dwellers are more prone to aggressive behaviours than those living in countryside settings.

A place of tranquility Photo: Karen Costello-McFeat

Some enchanted evening

These last few weeks, we have spent increasing amounts of time outside and, with few obligations, allowed ourselves to simply sit and watch the events of the garden unfold. One evening, at the end of a particularly warm day, neither my husband nor I wished to return inside. Ever the pyromaniac, my husband lit the chimenea to ward off the evening chill.

The evening was, for both of us, one of our favourites in our long years together. It began prettily enough with a classic sunset composed of baby blue and pink clouds. Before the light had faded entirely, the new moon rose as fine and pale as an albino’s eyelash. The overture to the evening’s performance had begun.

As dusk fell, the birds’ evensong reached its crescendo. In the stillness of evening, each call was distinct. Then, gradually, gradually, their voices fell silent as they returned to the safety of the trees and shrubbery and settled in for the night. All we could hear was the gentle crackle of the fire.

Then, out of the deep blue sky, came a sudden rush of movement, wings beating furiously in an unfamiliar manner. Surely, we thought, the birds had all gone to bed. They had. These were their fellow creatures of the sky: bats.

For about a quarter of an hour, the tiny pipistrelle bats put on their aerial display. The Red Arrows have nothing on these little intrepid aviators who swooped in great circles to catch their supper of insects on the wing. We could only see them in silhouette and only very briefly so rapidly were they moving. Then as suddenly as they had appeared, they were gone.

Mr Fox feels quite at home in the garden Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash

Their show over, Mr Fox made his entrance. He sauntered nonchalantly from the bottom of the garden, along the path and through the passage to the front of the house. He was terribly handsome in his thick, red coat and utterly indifferent to our presence. I imagined him giving us a nod, as if to say, ‘Lovely evening,’ before beginning his night’s adventures.

This was our last visitor. The sky was, by now, deep indigo with a smattering of stars sprinkled like freckles across her face. The solar lights blinked on; a modest mirroring of her beauty. The air turned cooler still and reluctant though we were, we stretched and headed for bed.

Why don’t you …?

When I was a child, I loved a programme called, ironically enough, Why Don’t You Just Switch Off Your Television Set And Go Out And Do Something Less Boring Instead?” In my mature years, I often do just that. I have discovered an immensely more interesting version of television – caveman TV. It is high definition, colour and surround sound, requires no electricity and has an infinite variety of programmes. It can be enjoyed in good health and poor and always, always brings joy. Which leaves only the question, Why don’t you …?