When these clouds first rolled in, tumbling over the buildings like heaps of crystal wool dancing with the ghosts of soot, I thought they were evidence of a great fire raging just over the creek. The photos don’t capture the vivid contrast between the shades of white and silver and gray and the bright orange evening sunlight against the facades and spires. And the static photos do not communicate the clouds’ gentle speed.
My daughter said, “It’s going to rain. Hard.”