‘I wandered lonely as a cloud that floats on high’ is my memory of Wordsworth’s poem memorized in grade school. This evening there were dramatic cloud formations which moved quickly and led me to reconsider my childhood image.
Depuis ma jeunesse, les paroles du poème m’ont toujours émis une image des cieux. Mais ce soir, les nuages dramatiques et changeants et les photos que j’ai pu prendre m’ont fait penser différemment.
Tonight’s show above the fields of recently harvested barley suddenly caused a shift in paradigm. These were not the solitary, puffy wanders above a field of golden daffodils. They were not drifting along during a summer day of sun. No, they appeared suddenly after a day of grey overcast skies. Their edges caught the setting sun and illuminated a hope that tomorrow will be thunderstorm free.
Le contraste entre le mauve foncé et le blanc-jaunâtre me parle de la réalité de la fin de la saison d’été. Les chaleurs ne seront plus d’office. Les saucettes à la mer seront rapides et rares. Les journées pluvieuses seront plus nombreuses. Mais la saison sera spectaculaire quand-même.
Those clouds may not be of summer vintage. They may herald the new season in much the same way as the new moon this week painted a bleak night sky and caused huge tides. These clouds are beautiful, majestic and powerful. Autumn will also bring the variegated leaves, the crisp new apples and sweet potatoes to my neighbours’ farms. The strength of the winds and intensity of the rains may be a power with which to reckon. The long hot days with frequent swims will give way to a new freshness and a desire to curl up with a cup of tea, a book – perhaps by the fire.
Tonight these photos excite me and make me eager for autumn, while staying very much in the now, relishing my dip in de Gros Marsh this afternoon.