Eyes on the Sky

I admit it. I am a weather-a-holic. I love anything that has to do with the weather, from cloud watching to storm chasing to rainbow making. I haven't always been weather obsessed. Growing up in Seattle, I loved splashing my way to school on drizzly mornings but, other than that, I didn't pay much attention to the clouds rolling past. My first job out of college was as a television news reporter in a small town in Eastern Washington. It came with a bonus: I was required to do the daily weather forecast. Me? A TV weather forecaster? I could barely figure out which direction was north WITH my compass. But I took classes, read piles of books, and learned on the job (I also learned that many people like to stop you on the street to ask you why yesterday's forecast was wrong; if anyone has a good answer  to this, let me know). Soon, weather took me by storm, so to speak. I became intrigued with the different types of cloud formations: the lenticular clouds that hung over mountains like baseball caps, the crepuscular rays that made it look as if the angels were sending sunbeams from heaven, the low stratus clouds that covered the horizon in a fleecy, gray blanket. I discovered how to read the clouds. I was awed by their power, and comforted by their grace. It seemed fitting that the first book I ever published for children was called, simply, Clouds. Weather continues to fascinate, delight, and inspire me. I do my best writing on cool, rainy days when the air is damp and the grass is a deep emerald green. I don't know why it took my so long to discover the wonder and beauty of weather. Maybe I had been looking down for so long, I forgot to look up. Not anymore.