Weather to me is just that, weather. It's
not a thing but an atmospheric condition that's always there. Good,
bad, hot, cold, bright, gloomy, sunny, rainy, calm, stormy ... there's
nothing one can do to change it as one wishes and, maybe because of
that, it becomes the most common conversation openers. If not exactly
that, it would still sneak somehow into some part of the conversation,
even if you start off on subjects with nothing whatsoever to do with
the weather.
Not too many people pay a lot of heed to clouds,
except to mention it in passing. Or use the word cloud in a figurative
sense, mostly with connotation to something negative or doomed. Like a
cloud is hanging over the property market to mean it's doing badly, or
he's got his head in the clouds to mean that instead of concentrating
on the job in hand, he has let his mind wander. Or just use the bad
weather as an excuse to be depressed. The Spanish say "Summer clouds"
to mean a brief and artificial romance.
But There is always an exception to everything, isn't there?
There is a new club just formed in Spain, exclusively by and for cloud
lovers! Yes you have heard right. Why not? Isn't there a club or
organization for just about everything under the sun already? I thought
it strange at first, but then I like clouds too. I often let my
imagination go wild, forming pictures in my head with the formation of
the clouds, seeing people, faces, animals, trees, boats and rivers,
even an entire ocean .... With the moving and changing of cloud
patterns, the shapes take on a life and play out scenes and stories in
my mind. My private motion picture in the sky!
I saw a Spanish TV programme sometime back,
where a group of book critics gathered to talk , discuss, praise or
criticize books of known authors. Sometimes one or two of them would
read out an extract to demonstrate or back up his views. I watched and
heard a passage in one of these books being discussed. Can't remember
the name of the book nor that of the author as I wasn't paying much
attention in the beginning. The part read out could well be a short
story on it's own. Talking about clouds reminded me of it. I hope I
remember enough to tell you the gist of the story.
On a dark, stormy night,
a woman knocked at the door of a neighbour. She was frightened and
alone, as her husband was a salesman of umbrellas, and had gone out
client hunting. She just needed some company. They fell madly in love,
and promised that they would meet whenever there's a storm.
The husband returned elated having sold his entire stock,
including all that in the factory. He took her away to one of those
paradises where the sun shines everyday. The heartbroken lover hated the
cloudless skies since, and spend the rest of his life leaning on his
window, waiting for dark clouds to appear.
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