I was on a flight back to California from Denver where I’d attended a Crimson Circle Discovering Your Passion weekend workshop late one Sunday afternoon in June. After the uplifting energy of the workshop I was ready to enjoy my flight home. Once I got settled I noticed that the woman next to me appeared to be in some kind of funk; so much so that I looked around for seating alternatives. (Who knows, maybe she just wanted the row to herself.) As if on cue, two seats opened in the next row, so I grabbed the one by the window and buckled up. Once the flight was underway the view of the Rockies from my window was spectacular.
Opportunity had just linked arms with passion and I was in heaven. I seized the moment and grabbed my camera. The Rockies, graced by those magnificent clouds had never looked so beautiful. When we went to a higher altitude and the cloud cover obscured the mountains, the waltz of their white cotton-candiness continued.
I’ve always had a passion for clouds. As a child I would lie on my back in the grass for hours watching the clouds drift across the sky. My best friend, Ann, and I did our best to identify which of our predecessors was sitting on which cloud looking down on us. We wove some wild tales as our girlish imaginations transported us to their heavenly realm. Far from being sympathetic characters, we saw our great-grandparents and their companions as grand and glorious, and having heaven’s stamp of approval, we were sure they were free to do exactly as they pleased. What could be better than a home in the sky?
Some things never change. The morphing, curious, even mysterious nature of clouds and the way they can tranform the entire sky, as well as the tone of a day, in mere moments still fascinates me. Though I am a sun-lover to my core, I must admit, clouds have my heart.
