(My driveway in autumn)
Well, it turns out that I had so many mountain sky images I wanted to share with you that I decided to do a second sky post. I hope you don’t mind. I like to think of this as a way to have my virtual neighbors out there in Blogland sit a spell on my front porch with me. So, go ahead, have a seat—in the rockers or the swing—whatever you prefer. I’m really glad you came to visit.
And instead of my own inadequate words (trying to express the inexpressible) here’s a poem from Edna St. Vincent Millay that I’ve always liked because I think it captures so perfectly that feeling I get sometimes when the sky is so blue and the maple leaves so red and the world so achingly beautiful that I feel like I’m going to bust. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about, but if you don’t, then you probably need to go find a porch to sit on. Or maybe a trail to hike. Or sometimes all it takes is a little patch of grass where you can stretch out on your back and gaze up—-into the infinite and always changing sky.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
O WORLD, I cannot hold thee close enough!
Thy winds, thy wide grey skies!
Thy mists that roll and rise!
Thy woods, this autumn day, that ache and sag
And all but cry with colour! That gaunt crag
To crush! To lift the lean of that black bluff!
World, World, I cannot get thee close enough!
Long have I known a glory in it all,
But never knew I this;
Here such a passion is
As stretcheth me apart. Lord, I do fear
Thou’st made the world too beautiful this year.
My soul is all but out of me,—let fall
No burning leaf; prithee, let no bird call.
(My favorite sunrise ever from our porch.)
(I love how light and shadows dance across the mountains when there are clouds.)
(Well, I couldn’t do TWO sky posts without at least ONE rainbow shot!)
(Yes, the sky really was this color that day. Those are mammatus clouds.)
(Some more unusual cloud formations. The layered clouds that look a bit like a stack of pancakes are lenticularis clouds.)
(Yet another sunrise. Yawn. Yes, of course I’ m kidding–I never tire of sunrises.)
(Of course, I had to show at least one night sky.)
(Yes, the black at the top really was like that—as though a shade were being lowered on the sunrise. And, in fact, the black shade DID eventually fall, blocking out the sun. And we had a rather fierce, but exciting early morning storm.)