Alas, the recent spate of clear blue skies over South Puget Sound has left me bereft. No clouds, not even the thinnest veil of cirrostratus, have graced the skies. No sun dogs. No halos. No circumzenithal arcs. No drama of cumulonimbus and wind-deranged cirrus in the skies. No clues to weather to the north, west, east, and south. I miss the clouds. We were becoming good friends, at least from my point of view. They remained indifferent, even the low stratus clouds that lingered on the playing fields and seemed to want to visit when I walked my dog through them in the morning.
I am resting my neck. Looking downward into books about clouds and meteorologists. Wearing sunglasses. Looking hopefully, longingly over the tops of the trees to see some hint of white--a gathering of vapor trying to become a cumulus, trying to tell me something, urging me to pay attention.