I am in love with clouds.  Clouds are mesmerizing–the different shapes, some flat, some round, some rectangular.  Some just dreamy, puffy, white stuff slowly floating beneath the deep blue sky.

In the hot sun of Florida they protect me from the heat.  In the cold air of Boston, they hide the warmth of the sun, but they are so beautiful, I forgive them.

Clouds have a magic and a mystery.  Sometimes they group themselves like a family.  And sometimes, a cloud stands all alone, peering down at us, saying “aren’t I wonderful, aren’t I beautiful.”

I often walk with my head in the clouds.  Other people frown on such ideas, walking with your head in the clouds.  To me it means being surrounded by warm white fuzzy spaces where I dream and imagine what’s next, what’s possible, where can I go from here.

When my children were young, we would lie together at the beach and watch the clouds go by.  “That one is a bus,” my son would say.  “No,” answered my daughter.  “That is a big dog.”  We were bonded with each other and with our friends the clouds.   Sometimes my youngest daughter would shout, “That cloud is winking at me.”  We laughed together at the joy of knowing that a cloud could think and wink!

Have you read my book, The Myth of the Yellow Kitchen?