Between 6:45 and 7:15 this morning, clouds the color of circus peanuts floated over our house. They still make and sell circus peanuts, but I'm not sure who eats them. I've not seen anyone eating the soft, peachy-orange colored candies in many years.
My favorite crayon in the big, giant box was always the one named, 'sky blue'. It almost shimmered it was so blue. This morning the sky behind the clouds was 'sky blue'.
The sky looked like the ones painted in many of the old master's paintings you find hanging in museums. The kind of sky you see in a painting and it looks fake. And then you see the real thing and know a couple centuries ago an artist saw a morning sky like today's and thought, "I have to paint that."
What is it in some people that makes them need to re-create what they see around them? Or what they think? Or hear? I write because I love how words go together. When I read a beautiful line, I am enthralled and fascinated. I write because I love stories and what they mean to people.
Until I was in my thirties I thought everyone that liked to read, wanted to write. In my book group in Illinois we were discussing that month's book. I said, "Don't you just wish you'd written that?" To quote Christmas Story, they looked at me like I had lobsters coming out of my ears. Then I went home and asked Mike if he'd ever wanted to write and he said, "No, never even thought about it." I can truly say I was stunned.
Okay, God, I had no idea where this second blog about clouds was going.
Thank you for the reminder. I needed it.