The weighted sky water of summer. A thousand wardrobe changes in the day (and that’s just the sky!).
Color palettes shift from frothy white to angry greys with blasts of orange and red and gold sprinkled between.
The wind carries them from the north east, from the south .. back around again from the west. It shapes them— along with temperature, pressure, underlying terrain — into ragged forms, soft cumulous curls, a streaking line of stratus. Thunderheads build .. threaten .. and then simply drift away …
The season of clouds. The heart of summer in Baja.
I woke before the sun had peeked her head above isla carmen and decided to walk the beach in it’s pre-dawn darkness. In the distance, the wail of waking roosters echoed down the arroyo and mingled with the guttural purr of diesel transports getting a jump on the day.
At the water line, only the sound of small waves slapping on and moving beach stones broke the zen-like silence. Morning – before morning – exquisite.
The shadowy shapes of foraging shorebirds began to appear, thankful, as was I, that the winds of yesterday had momentarily waned, and the sea was once again a lake like mirror of glass.
The palms were still. The residences of Loreto, for the most part, still ‘snug in their beds.’
When the sun finally crested the horizon, it was as if the sky cried out – “I’m here! I’m here!” – welcoming with broad arms the beginnings of a new day.
To wake with such exquisite peace seems to me – the ultimate luxury.