There’s a thing that the sky does here in the rainy season that I had never seen before I moved to Seattle. In Florida, rain clouds are low and dark and heavy, and even when they cover the sky completely, they’re highly textured and variable.
But here, when it will rain on and off all day, and maybe it did yesterday and probably it will tomorrow, too, the whole sky is covered with this high, thin, pale layer of clouds, backlit and brighter than it ought to be. People talk about how gloomy Seattle is in the rain, but that tall glowing ceiling lets in more light than the storm clouds I knew for most of my life.
If you don’t stop at look at it, it can look like it’s nearly flat, all one color. But if you do stop, you see the variations, the texture, like hand-blended fiber that’s gone into one dyebath and the silk and the wool and the alpaca all picked up the color a little differently. Not an even blend, but with whorls and bunches and bits of lighter or darker or warmer or cooler tones.
My poor photography skills don’t do it justice. It’s so much better than that.
I’d love to try to make a fiber blend like that one day, to spin it and weave it, fine and lacy, and build in curves and movement with tapestry techniques.