#nimbostratus praecipitatio

[cleverreports]

We report at an untold time of the night: our expert talked about how it "smells like snow" while we were out yesterday. We thought that was a dubious statement. We were wrong, of course, although happily so. The layer is thin, and it has not stuck on the roads yet.

[clementinesclouddiary]

2024.06.13

Nimbostratus clouds with praecipitatio (right). The wind picked up very quickly and I was caught in the downpour about five minutes later.

[cleverreports]

We report in the midst of October rain: we walk gingerly for fear of slipping. It is that type of treacherous rain that turns pavements into ice rinks. Meanwhile, the trees are still mostly full of leaves, but the sap has gotten slow to reach the tips of branches. No wind today.

[cleverreports]

We report as it finally starts to rain: the surface of the pond was once a mirror, but it has dulled out under the drizzle. The white noise starts low, then fills our ears when the rain comes in earnest. We stop walking for a moment to let it drown everything else out.

[cleverreports]

We report: we cannot quite tell where all this light is coming from all of a sudden, and frankly, the light itself is making it hard to tell. Each raindrop is catching the sun and casting it into our eyes, and we do not have sunglasses with us. It is getting warm.

[cleverreports]

We report: our umbrella is lying open on the floor by the front door, spilling into indoor puddles. The kettle starts to boil as the rain picks back up; the white noise of it all is scrambling our thoughts. Our expert comes home, and leaves their own wet umbrella by ours.

[cleverreports]

We report: we argued about directions with our expert on the way to the beach, and we felt spiteful enough to forgo our raincoat when they told us it would rain. We are now completely sodden. We feel quite silly, but we are still working through the spite. The rain has gotten to our socks.

[cleverreports]

We report late in the afternoon, as rain is starting to fall in earnest. We came to watch the clouds advance, but the smell hit us like it was the first time we came across it, deep, organic, and crisp. "Petrichor" is almost too easy a word to describe the smell of rain.

[cleverreports]

We report: we watch the retreating storm clouds while the broken gutter is still flooding the pavement. There is a dandelion that is dancing frantically under the constant stream of water, and some gravel from recent construction is running down the street. The sun comes out.