We had a storm! In Bakersfield! At least we had weather that qualifies as a storm here. And more expected this week. I was inside most of the day for the Martin Luther King Jr. Community Breakfast and then the Community Luncheon, with two former students (one my granddaughter) who were part of the program. No windows! That’s ok since we looked through windows into the soul.
Allie and Ali – the Ali on the right is my Ali.
But when we got outside the wind was whipping and then the rain came in a deluge. Ali, my 15-year-old granddaughter asked, “Is this a storm?” That’s how deprived we are weather-wise in Bakersfield. Yes, it was a storm. And the clouds were astounding. So this post is about clouds – photos of clouds – which hint at the January theme of bodies. Clouds are such amorphous bodies – elusive, constantly changing, mysterious. Today, the clouds were like none I’d seen before.
I’ve got to quit doing this – taking photos when I’m driving. But how could I pass up those puffy little scallops? And without thinking I began to sing the Judy Collins song Both Sides Now.
Bows and flows of angel hair and ice cream castles in the air
And feather canyons everywhere, I’ve looked at clouds that way.
But now they only block the sun they rain and snow on everyone
So many things I would have done, but clouds got in my way.
So I wondered, in this cloud are puffy little scallops drifting out into the more dispersed cloud? Or – is the more dispersed cloud converging into puffy scallops?
I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now
From up and down and still somehow
It’s cloud’s illusions I recall
I really don’t know clouds at all.
Wow. Again , taken while driving. I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now…I really don’t know clouds at all. Isn’t that a great metaphor for the futility of trying to understand certain things? In the literal sense of clouds, it doesn’t matter what I understand. They are just plain gorgeous to contemplate. In the more abstract sense, maybe there are things about life that we really don’t have to understand. They just are. Or things about our bodies that we just have to accept. We are who we are. And as Martin Luther King Jr. said, it’s the content of our character that counts.
Now these are just downright amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen clouds quite like these. They make me think of being pulled into the maelstrom. Or the tension and excitement of the unknown, like in Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Writing this reminds me that I have a college named Into the Maelstrom that isn’t on my art gallery. I have some work to do to catch the web page up!
These clouds are worth a second look. Of course, they are being whipped around by the wind and by turbulence. The wind had it’s way.
Trees were felled all over the city. This is a block away from us.
This large established tree was felled on a busy street. Luckily, because of the holiday, traffic was light. A Kern County man was not so lucky and tragically lost his life when a tree fell on him, or his roof rather, as he was sleeping. Mother Nature is capricious and arbitrary and there’s no way to know when you might become the victim of very bad luck.
Back home, our boat had not fared too well. One of the biminis, or covers, was shredded by the wind.
A bimini isn’t anything compared to a life, though. How does one come to terms with a life cut short so arbitrarily by a fallen tree?
Right now, looking out from the balcony, the sky is lovely – a lull between storms. But water in the lake is already getting high. The end of the lake in the next photo usually has a wooden barrier visible between the lake and the little drainage area. Not now.
So I eagerly anticipate the weather of the next few days as I ponder the “unknowability” of clouds. (Sometimes a made-up word works best.) And I’m still thinking of other verses of the song.
I’ve looked at life from both sides now
From win and lose and still somehow
It’s life’s illusions I recall
I really don’t know life at all.
