These are the slow, broad days of summer here on the north shore. The corn is high, the tomatoes are ripening in the fields, and the mailbox is filling up with back-to-school flyers. Time, I remind myself, to slow down and watch the days, the hours even, slip by. There's always something happening. The fast-flying clouds make solumbra - patterns on the water - and the red maples spread their heavy shade. Below, on a more overcast day, a young man fishes for sport, while off towards the Pelee Peninsula, a commercial boat fishes for a living, and I stand barefoot on the weathered wood of the patio. We all are keeping watch.
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.