It had been raining for two dull days but suddenly, just a touch before sunset, the sky begins to move. It swirls and changes and breaks apart towards the west, presage to an interesting evening. A huge patch of blue sky eventually appears over the Straight of Georgia while closer to the city, cloud layers become more visible, tangled and seemingly disorganized, sharing space and currents. The wind is blowing hard from the sea and a few rotors form around Grouse, quickly dissipated and replaced. When the sun finally dips down into the blue from its hide, the world explodes into a short-lived kaleidoscope. Soon the break is over, however, and light fades back to temporary shades of grey. But a final surprise comes when, long after the sun has slipped under the cloud barrier of the Vancouver Island, its surviving rays manage to hit a high altitude layer right above us and turn it to bright pink. People stare and quiet down, mesmerized. The city lights are coming on one by one – and I don’t have my camera. It’s just another day at the office.
Looking west, thinking east
October 8, 2007