As writers, we're supposed to be observant, right? My problem is I've always been focused more on the internal than on the external. Maybe that's the definition of being born a romanticist rather than a classicist?
Anyhow, I've had the good fortune to have a friend staying with me while my husband was away. She was continually directing my attention to the clouds, the sunsets, the five partial rainbows (!) we saw while out driving one Saturday. I think, during the summer, I do look at the sky more often than at any other time of the year. Now, in fall, it strikes me how different these clouds are, and how interesting. One evening we saw layer upon layer of striations, underlined by bright carmine as the sun set. Spectacular!
Years ago when we lived in Cape Town I used to take a short stroll along our lane just before twilight. I'd look up at the mountain, see the sky, and drink in all that beauty at that special, healing time of day. Although the weather's growing colder, I think I'm going to take up that practice again. True, I can't look at a mountain, but the sky is there for us all to behold and admire.
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