This is our Northeast ridge under an evening cloud fly-past. Some small, dark, knobbly, angry, belligerent ones are harassing a couple of beautifully inflated noble optimists, who, like many people I know, are happily drifting under elemental influences, to areas of lower pressure.
There are some new cloudscapes in my Flickr set of that name. The fact that I keep looking for these images is probably evidence of a childlike romanticism that seems to be increasing with age. A good foil or antidote for cynicism, anyway.
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