That Great Big Beautiful Sky
August 27, 2023
I’m experimenting with Substack’s new referrals feature which allows you to earn free subscription months by referring this newsletter to your friends or readers. More information at the bottom of this post!
This past week was hotter than I ever remember here. Heat indexes of 120+ Fahrenheit hot. Close the blinds and curtains and don’t do anything to add extra heat to the house so your air conditioner has a chance hot. My morning walks were before sunrise when it was “cooler” but also nearly 100% humidity. The camera didn’t leave the house though I did take a few sunrise photos with my phone before scurrying back to my little cave to wait it out.
Then Friday evening I heard thunder. It was still 100 degrees, the sun was shining but I looked out the window and watched the rain move down the street until it covered my house. If I’d been out in it I’d have looked like a scene from a movie where the character opens their face to the sky, spins around with joy, and lets the rain engulf them. I didn’t run outside immediately because the wind was blowing something fierce, it was pouring buckets, and effectively raining sideways.
When I get excited I often think in song lyrics. The first song that popped out was, “At last, my love has come along, my lonely days are over, and life is like a song.” (Etta James, “At Last”) That was quickly followed by the photographer in me realizing this setup was going to produce a rainbow and wondering how quickly I could get outside after the shower passed to photograph it. Ah, the photographer instincts are deeply engrained in me now and that makes me happy too!
The rain didn’t last long but behind the rain it was 80 degrees with a cool outflow breeze. I ran out to find a wide enough view to take in the glorious, enormous rainbow that was covering our city. I found myself singing: “…glory, glory hallelujah…” (Battle Hymn of the Republic) and laughing because the rest of that song is not really appropriate for the situation but the mood of that song was PERFECT. I switched to, “I wanna know, have you ever seen the rain? Coming down on a sunny day.” (Credence Clearwater Revival) That was followed by a loud rendition of, “I'm singin' in the rain, Just singin' in the rain, What a glorious feeling, I'm happy again!” (Gene Kelly) I am not a good singer but who cares when you are singing from pure joy?!?
I knew I was missing the birds, though I had seen them in the early morning hours. They too were up before the sun. Even on the hottest days I heard the indigo buntings singing, watched the goldfinches flit by my head, and saw hummingbirds zip-zagging around the crab-apple tree. The bugs had a field day in the hot, humid conditions and there were huge dragonflies zipping every which way. The cicadas hatch in August and there was a loud cicada buzz every morning.
I didn’t realize until I opened the curtains just how much I had been missing the sky. The big, wide, glorious, open expanse of midwestern sky. I didn’t realize how many times I day I stop to look out the window. I always thought I gazed at the trees, the clouds, or perhaps a bird circling up high, but it turns out the sky itself is a big part of what sustains me throughout the day. Clear, cloudy, blue, hazy, that sky lifts my spirits even when it’s full of clouds.
It’s interesting to think of the things that sit in the background of our lives, only occasionally noticed for the fullness of themselves. The things we sometimes forget make a massive difference. These are often the things we notice when they are gone and sometimes don’t fully take it in until they return. They are like dear friends you know you’ve missed and when you finally see them in person you burst into tears - or sometimes song.
I don’t spend as much time with the sky in the summer. The heat, haze and early sunrise mean my duration gazing at the sky is shorter and some days I hardly notice at all. I tend to photograph smaller beauties like butterflies, flowers, dragonflies and songbirds. In spring and fall I start to look up again, looking for migrating birds and watching as flocks arrive and depart. In the winter there are gulls and terns and migrating raptors. The sunrises too, as a whole, are more colorful in the cooler seasons with the shorter days. Yet that sky is always there for me and it turns out I miss it, even in the summer months.
Today as I did QiGong I looked out the window. “Flying” and “Heart to the Sky” movements took on new meaning as I took in all that the sky really provides. She is a constant that reminds me how small we are in this vast universe and how very unlikely it is that we are here at all. It’s easier to take in the sky than her partner, the Earth. It’s easier to see her vastness, to remember there is so much more than the small life I live.
I love taking pictures of water and even then I am often really taking pictures of the sky in reflection. I guess I’ve known how much I loved her all along.
On a side note, I’m trying out Substack’s new “referrals” feature. This feature allows you to earn free months by referring this newsletter to your friends. If they subscribe (free or paid), you earn credits toward free months of paid subscription. If you enjoy this newsletter and trust me to provide good content, you can benefit from referring this to others. 25 referrals will earn you an entire year of paid subscription (even if they all sign up for free).
The “Refer a Friend” button (and any “Share” button you see on a post) will give you a unique referral link that gives you credit when used by someone else to subscribe. (It’s all being done by the system!)
Totally "sky-and-water" people, too! And for the same reasons. Water mirrors in color and mood the magnificent sky as if in admiration. Instead of being intimidating, I find the sky to be comforting and embracing, and it lifts my mood even on a gloomy/cloudy day.
Ahh, big sky! Yes, I'm drawn to your water pictures because they always extend that glorious sky. Your lake photos are always just stunning.