More than clouds

Whether it's the bloated pillows of cumulus, or a grey, flat monotonous ceiling, through to the fine teased out wisps of cirrus, as gardeners we are always glancing upward to the many changing faces of the sky. I guess it comes as no surprise that orange skies signal an emotional response in shepherds the world over. As for me, I love the variety and shapes and wonder on which direction the wind is coming from based on cloud movement, and where a single single blade of grass goes after it leaves my hand. Bands of unsettled weather send gardeners scuttling for cover under the deep shouldered arms of dark Yews, from where we lean in to their hard hearts and look up; waiting for the last drop of rain. In my late teens and early twenties I walked the long empty sands of Lindisfarne, where out in the bay, rafts of sea duck bobbed in and out of sight, and the sulfur heads of Gannets torpedoed into white horse waves from great heights. On those wide stretches of sand between sea and land, the wind combed back the Marram and made us feel small, rather like the ribs of bruised cloud receding to distant silhouetted ships. The sunsets over the Holy Island causeway echoed to the calls of shorebirds, and in our quiet selves we looked upon the cold darkening sky in amazement. My camera skills and equipment can't hope to capture what my eyes see, but I will start posting my cloud photos here. You have been warned! This video of amazing clouds filmed from an aeroplane window is worth a look, the commentary is in Japanese.