We report about the muggy August air and the clouds that form in that space, the tall towers that our expert tries to explain with complicated words before they fall over. We walk under the noon sky and get an obvious sunburn on the nose; our expert scolds us about sunscreen.
We report: we forget how long sunrises take. Surely not any longer, any shorter a time as sunsets take, but the anticipation makes them feel twice as long, it builds over time. It starts when the night sky lightens at the horizon and does not stop until the sun is way up there.
We report: a little grace of spending more time in the world, that sunsets become more meaningful to us every time we see them. As the sky reddens shade by shade, and the light turns to gold, we let ourselves get taken away from time for a little while. It feels alright, then.
We report many months when we looked forward to the full moon, but missed it by a few days each time. This time, we found it by chance, felt a pang in our chest when it showed up through the clouds; suddenly emotional about it still being here, even though so much was changing.
We report: it is dark, windy and dry out today. We were walking in the shade for a long time, but when the sky opened up, we got warm very fast. We feel as though we have been walking in Summer forever, and on the last day of July, we wonder if a storm could clear it all out.
We report about this narrow segment of the shoreline, it starts here and ends there and we have been studying it for some time now. As it slowly retreats into the ocean, it draws lines in the sand - the same ones that will vanish when the tide goes in during the night.
We report: we got woken up by the rain drumming against the window when the wind does not usually blow that way. And as we drew the curtains open, a lightning bolt appeared, and almost right after, thunder clapped. It was a loud, precise sound, followed by a long rumble.
We report: we saw a rabbit hop across the field earlier, but our expert does not believe us. We have been arguing in whispers, just in case another animal would show up; we hardly noticed as the sunset came and went. There are only a few clouds that the sun is still reaching now.
We report a number of clouds, stacked very messily on top of one another - no order or logic to it that we can make out. If it were up to us, we would at the very least consider shapes, sizes, or perhaps both. They are moving at a sluggish pace, in a way that is also disorderly.
We report: there are things that we do not learn about just so that our expert can keep telling us about it. Our expert is very patient; they explain things with new words every time, and they say "but tomorrow, it will be different again" and "be there for the sunrise, too".
We report, after the rain has stopped, we go through the undergrowth and the smell of the honeysuckle is blooming. We get mud on our socks from the puddles that have gotten deeper; a gust of wind rustles the leaves and we get a big raindrop in our eye. The trees sound peaceful.
We report: very hot today, so that at this late hour, the ground radiates heat though the sun is already low. Our expert, too, radiates heat, and we wonder when their skin got darker (today? No, over the course of this month, little by little every day). The sky is so big.
We report the moon's first quarter, a phase that looks like half a wink, a little bit sideways. Phases like this one, when the swell of the moon is so clear, we think of another corner of the world where it leans the exact opposite way. The same satellite, seen upside down.
We report: this was the muggiest of muggy days, and we spent it sweating profusely and wishing for some rain, for something to come and release the tension. The lightning struck right there when it came, and when the thunder cracked, it rolled like a drum, relentless.
We report about sometimes when the sky is clear but there are clouds of many different shapes, and it is warm with a little breeze, and you are able to sit there in that place and moment, and it feels like - your existence begins and ends here. Everything else distant and blurry.
We report great news on this day: the waves are functioning at an excellent height and speed, while the wind is blowing well and strong. The full moon is causing a beautiful high tide that is reaching up into rivers. The blues are very blue, and the sun is very bright.
We report: we have made it to the other side of the new moon. Even when the sky was pitch black, the tide came in and went out, and Earth's axis tilt remained at 23.4°. And tonight as the moon sets, we think about how it will grow bigger and rounder for many days to come.
We report May slipping through our fingers faster than we know it. There was a lot that we had wanted out of this spring, perhaps too much; as the days stretch longer, we feel a sense of hurry. However will we manage to do everything we want to, and will the days be long enough?
We report: we are standing here after sunset in the same way we would stay seated through the end credits at the cinema. We are not expecting anything special to happen anymore, but we need a moment to process the day we have lived through. We will go home in a little while.
We report, early morning, the smell of blackthorn blossoms heavy in the air. We are walking through tall, dewy grass. A lot of the first flowers of spring are now going to seed, and like a well-composed symphony, other plants are flowering, with different colours and shapes.
We report: when we see these big clouds in the spring, we sometimes think that they must carry the heat of the whole summer that will come afterward. "This makes no sense", our expert tells us, but we like the idea. This is a day that would be warm if it were not for the wind.
We report that this was a long day, in all the right ways; when we woke up early and listened to birdsong in the distance, when we overslept and woke up feeling rested, when we found moments to read a few pages of a book throughout the day. We feel as though we stole a whole day.
We report: we could not fall asleep very easily last night. We had dreams that we were still awake, and it was difficult to imagine we were not sleeping when we woke up. When the sun tentatively got closer to the horizon, as the moon set, we realised we would remain sleepless.
We report the rain of May; the day warm and the sky blue until clouds came, and the temperature abruptly dropped. The trail was already muddy, and the puddles were full, so the rain ran down the slope, a full stream down the middle of the path. Our expert was wearing a T-shirt.
We report: this year again flowers bloom, maybe even more than last year. We remember saying something similar some time ago - so many flowers this year, this is a year for flowers, have you ever seen so many flowers? All the rain and sunshine, all the time, for flowers to bloom.