Snow. Fog. Cloud. Though technically accurate, what I’ve seen in Western Maine skies is inadequately conveyed by the words we use to identify…wild forms of water. Maine’s license plate reads ‘Vacationland’. Leave here to get back to ‘real’ life. Water as found in the wild, unreal?
Sunset behind the Bethel Inn. Bethel, Maine.
Perfectly normal evening unfolding silently behind my house in neighboring Hanover, Maine.
A promising morning.
‘Awe-inspiring’, ‘vaguely obscene’ or ‘objectively horrific’ come to mind, but say nothing that speaks to this, really. Look. It speaks in its native tongue. heh.
Pointing — the only possible means of conveyance. Verbal pointing a week later, “DId you see that sky?” “OMG yes.” Everyone saw that sky. Note no attempt to describe sky. Just that sky. The simple word is also for something too much to ever say.
“Lenticular” clouds, essentially, a little chaotic, in-process, and yet. They work on the mind more than my words for them do. If I let them. Of if they make me.
See without the mental triage: compare, name, next…
There’s beauty and then there’s being shown viscerally, day to day, that we are not the masters of the universe. It can be hard to take. Beauty as consolation for knowledge.