Partly Cloudy

Somewhere in my box of pictures -- you know? the real physical pictures, 3 1/2 X 5's and 4 X 6's, doubles often for free, jammed into those envelopes that have a separate pocket for the negatives -- is a terrific shot of a cloud formation that my Uncle Zan spotted and snapped quite a few years ago.  It is untouched.  Totally truthful.  Perfectly captured . . . as are a great many of his photos.  He's got a natural eye.  This particular collision of suspended water molecules formed the shape of a fluffy stereotypical teddy bear.  Right down to the button nose and rounded belly with stubby arms and legs protruding from their proper places. 

Though I didn't see the nebulous cuddle toy myself, the picture, and what I know of my uncle, set me on a permanent course of cloud watching.  And not just for the sheer beauty and contrast inherent within their manifestations of brightest white and steel gray and all variations in between.  I'm drawn to their whimsy as I press forward in my hopeful search to discover just one, ONE, instantly recognizable consummately shaped-for-viewing cloud.

It's not that almost every cloud which flits, floats, and flees across the sky lacks just enough shape within their amorphous form to stimulate  my imagination.  Just today I admired a giant bug larva with its mouth agape, first appearing to spew smoke, than seeming to consume the other smaller larvae in its path.  A dinosaur, perhaps a brontosaurus or diplodocus, grazed just below and to the left of the aggressive infantile insect.  And off to the right, a curvy woman bedecked in a manner of dress best reproduced by Impressionists like Manet and Renoir, drawn waists and rump-enhancing bustles, leaned her full-hat- adorned head back in the afternoon wind.  Every time I fly the friendly skies, cities within the clouds unfold beneath my gaze, thrilling me to no end.

But as clear as those images were to me, I guarantee that the moment I sought to reveal their perceived identity to those around me, confused stares and shaking heads would be my reward.  Some folks need to see the obvious: a rare and elusive element in cloud gazing where shapeshifting occurs on the half-second of every second!

The Impressionistic young lady is now absent from the ozone; perhaps she ate the larva or was herself ingested by a prehistoric grazer gone carnivorous.  So much for the friendly skies!  It seems that even in nature, my mind leans toward eating.  Huh?  Imagine that.  I wonder if these leanings have been lately enhanced by my temporary denial-to-self of all things dairy, sugar, wheat, and coffee?  Oh, what I wouldn't give for a lovely crunchy dark chocolate-dipped homemade biscotti accompanied by a steaming Starbucks mug of cafe Americano!  Perhaps tomorrow that very image, so clear in my head right this very instant, will choose to manifest for a hot second in the scudding puffs of marshmallow creme overhead . . .

Until then.