Tuesday, 4 March 2014

Red dawn over Blackwater valley.

The sky over The Blackwater Valley this morning was a most beautifull palette of  oranges, reds, pinks and purples. The red sky of morning has long being a great subject matter for rhymes, poetry and folklore with the colour being an omen of impending bad weather to a selection of trades from fishermen and farmers to postmen and milkmen.

These little rhymes however do have some scientific and meteorological basis.http://www.theweatherprediction.com/habyhints/139/ In our latitudes most storm systems travel from west to east and are usually preceded by high cirrus clouds. As the sun begins to rise it can reflect a red or pink colour off these high cirrus clouds before it even appears over the eastern horizon.
       This morning the weather changed fairly quickly and even before the sun had rose proper above the horizon the clouds in the west had thickened and all the red colours were gone from the sky.
    Still, for a while the spectacle was very nice to look at.
  A magical time of the day.

                              The above picture which is a little grainy
                              shows a zoom shot of communications masts 
                    on the far hill which seem to be breeding                                           as each time I look their numbers have 

  The morning light put a lovely pinkish hue on the whole scene.

But! What did the day herald?
                      Pancakes of course.
Happy Pancake day!


How Kind Dawn Is

While at my window seat, I watch springs Dawn
come easing into day, with amber rays.
She lays a gilded glaze upon my lawn
and with her advent scatters gloomy haze
Like butter on my morning toast, her light
is smoothly spread enticingly accross
my portion of the universe, for Night
has yielded to the magic of her gloss
I quickly dress. Behind my house I run
to see her at her zenith. Dawn now spills
a plentitude of honey from the sun
onto a field of brilliant daffodils
How kind Dawn is, how lovely to behold
on seasons when she touches earth with gold.
By   Andrea Dietrich