cloudland, displaying power and beauty that one never wearies in
beholding, but hopelessly unsketchable and untellable. What can poor
mortals say about clouds? While a description of their huge glowing
domes and ridges, shadowy gulfs and cañons, and feather-edged ravines
is being tried, they vanish, leaving no visible ruins. Nevertheless,
these fleeting sky mountains are as substantial and significant as the
more lasting upheavals of granite beneath them. Both alike are built up
and die, and in God’s calendar difference of duration is nothing. We
can only dream about them in wondering, worshiping admiration, happier
than we dare tell even to friends who see farthest in sympathy, glad to
know that not a crystal or vapor particle of them, hard or soft, is
lost; that they sink and vanish only to rise again and again in higher
and higher beauty.
John Muir, My First Summer in the Sierra, July 23rd, 1872
The pic below come from about a week ago, July 18th, here in Ventura County, SoCal., when we had a couple of lovely days of high clouds and cool days.
As the temps begin to climb, I confess I miss those clouds…