I grew up with the Peanuts comic strip. It was cozy, homey and comfortable. The comic strip always seemed to say the stuff a kid was thinking- but would never say out loud. Thanks to Charles Schultz, we kids had a voice.
The passage above takes me back…way back, to a time in the summer, when the days were Oh! so long. As kids, we never thought it a waste of time to find a spot on the cool summer grass, stretch out, and look up, up, up at the amazing, roiling, on their way to somewhere formations of puffy, fluffy, foamy swells of whipped mass.
In a free form, subconscious sort of way, we let the clouds guide our conversation, unaware of what any of those words meant. We just talked aimlessly about the most important nothings in our lives, until the next spectacular cloud rolled by overhead.
It was a magic time, when the planet provided our big screen entertainment, and we tweeted like birds amongst ourselves, discussing our cloud Rorschachs and their thought provoking insights.
This past week, the Chicago skies have been on the turbulent and unpredictable side, with frequent storms bubbling up around us. I’ve noticed the cloudscape has been very dramatic during my walks. Much as I try, I can’t seem to match the pace of the hurried clouds. They are breathtaking, as they distract and capture my attention and imagination.
“See that one in the middle…a big, beluga whale, charging up to the surface…” “And the one on the right, look! – it’s underdog, come to save the day!”