Travel

Chasing Clouds

Billows upon billows upon billows of clouds hung in the morning sky yesterday. We were in a Gainsborough painting. Driving through the Cotswolds and staring at the sky. Of course, I reminded Adi to keep his eyes on the road too or we would be looking down upon the countryside from the clouds. A bit too early for that. To keep his eyes in place was the yellow vista that comes up in April with timeliness. The rapeseed fields that spring up along the roads leading into the Cotswolds. They shall turn uniformly yellow in some time so much so that you cannot spy a speck of green amongst the sheets of yellow.

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“Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add colour to my sunset sky.” Rabindranath Tagore
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“I know that I shall meet my fate somewhere among the clouds above; those that I fight I do not hate, those that I guard I do not love.” William Butler Yeats
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“When I look up and see the sun shining on the patch of white clouds up in the blue, I begin to think how it would feel to be up somewhere above it winging swiftly thought the clear air, watching the earth below, and the men on it, no bigger than ants.” Eddie Rickenbacker
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“May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds.” Edward Abbey
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“Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer’s day, listening to the murmur of the water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time.” John Lubbock
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“There are no rules of architecture for a castle in the clouds.” Gilbert K. Chesterton

And before I leave you, I cannot make Sunday complete without browsing through the postcard collection, so here are a few below. Are you having a good day? I would love to hear about it. I am sitting in front of the telly (’tis the noble day to be a couch potato), munching on spicy French Toast, catching up with the final instalment of The Voice, a reality show, and wondering what to rustle up for dinner.

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Baptistery of San Giovanni, Firenze.
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The Baptistery, Firenze.

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On that oomph-y note, till tomorrow then, my lovelies.

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Hit me up, buttercup

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