“The bluest skies you’ve ever seen in Seattle.” That lyric, from Bobby Sherman’s theme song to Here Come the Brides, has been stuck in my head since I was five years old. It is so true and so not true. And I am grateful that it is both.
Last night, my husband and I took advantage of a late summer breeze to sit on the patio. As the sun set and the temperature dropped, clouds formed in the west toward the Puget Sound. Not at all blue, the sky was glorious, nonetheless. A shelf of vapor coalesced in slow motion above us. Imagine white-capped ocean waves suspended upside down across the sky. Just as the sun dropped behind the Olympic Mountains, its beams bounced off the rolling surface of the clouds in stunning pinks and oranges.
I immediately snapped a bunch of pictures and sent them to our daughter in Texas. She has been enthralled by the Washington sky, especially at sunrise and sunset, since the first time she toddled outside and looked up. A prism of millions of water droplets sorting peach from pumpkin and flamingo from flame. The vast array of formations—horsetails, cotton balls, woolly blankets, and waves. They were magical to her. I loved rediscovering their beauty through her eyes.
MY DAUGHTER: Oh my gosh!!! I do love it. There’s not enough pretty sky scapes here.
ME: No rain means boring blue skies.
MY DAUGHTER: Honestly. FACTS!!
It is true that the bluest skies are in Seattle. (And the grass is the greenest green. Right, Bobby?) The cloudiest skies are here too, though. Those two conditions are inextricably interconnected. When the skies are blue, the warmth of the sun draws water vapor from the Sound and lakes. As the sun sets, the air cools and the vapor condenses, forming clouds which produce rain that clears the sky of debris. The less dust and dirt, the clearer and brighter the blue.
Enough with the science lesson.
It occurred to me, as I watched the clouds paint the sky and I read my daughter’s text, that the same thing happens when “clouds” form in our lives. And often we do not look up to marvel in their sheer beauty. Of course, no one wants clouds, but they do clean away the debris to brighten our perspective and give us clarity.
A couple weeks ago, we lost our beloved Buttercup. She was definitely deep blue sky in our lives. Her loss was unexpected which made it all the more painful. Buttercup loved big and not just our immediate family but our friends as well. As we rushed to try to save her, we reached out for help. My best friend and her husband dropped everything and came to support us. Our neighbors were right there offering to do anything we needed. Our vet lovingly cared for Buttercup and gave us the opportunity to grieve with her. Dear friends brought flowers. Online, our friends and family reached out with love and support.
Maybe you’re thinking those clouds were just the loss of a dog. But they weren’t to us. They were a raging thunderstorm of grief—thick and grey. The generous gifts of love and compassion transformed them into wisps of rose and peach.
Much like the cycle of sunny blue skies leading to clouds and rain which clean the atmosphere and brighten the sky, big love and big dreams do eventually end which is painful and yet that pain deepens and clarifies the most beautiful things in life: love, friendship, compassion, empathy, selflessness, hope, and courage. These are the things that sweep out the debris in our hearts and make our world clearer and brighter.
Blue skies are beautiful. But I wouldn’t appreciate them nearly as much without embracing the beauty in the clouds.
Love this so much! I will be your clouds any day!
Beautifully said, as always, Catherine.
I miss Buttercup in the background too.