After two consecutive days of warmer temperatures and steady downpour, at times torrential, the wind returned in the night. I pulled the duvet up under my chin and listened in the dark as it pounded my house with its fists, and lashed the rain against the window. I slept fitfully, wondering what the wind would do to the weakened ice, and what I would see in the morning. I've heard in times past that the fierce Lake Erie winds have actually pushed ice ashore, and damaged buildings that were set too close to the lake.
This morning, two mountains of piled-up ice, one of them easily two stories tall, sat a safe distance from my part of the shore. The color in the old ice made it look as if the rain had washed the watercolor blue right out of the painted sky, leaving only gray behind, but it's really caused by the filtering of light. (click to enlarge)
To view more skies from around our beautiful world, or to join in, visit SKYWATCH, posted today after 19:30 GM.
The Cloud Messenger (Meghadūta) is a lyric poem by the respected Indian poet, Kālidāsa. The poem centers around a yaksa in exile. Longing for his beloved, waiting for him on a Himalayan mountain, he asks a cloud to take a message to her. The sights he tells the cloud it will see on its way make up most of the poem.
The idea of recording observations appeals to me. I thought The Cloud Messenger was the perfect title for a blog about the journey that we all make as we move through our days.
I'm a baby boomer who grew up dancing in the streets of Detroit during the classic Motown years, lived beside the Rocky Mountains for many years, now retired and living (and writing full time) in S. Ontario. I have one blog for rock 'n' roll oldies, and one for nature, poetry and life along the Lake.