This morning as I drove over the bridge shoulder to get to Burnside, I looked out over the skyline. I always like to see the pattern -- new every time! -- of the old St Patrick church dome and cupola, within the larger dome and arch of the Fremont Bridge. It was quite dark, but I saw that the sky, which was black, shading to deep purple, faded into a faint glimmer of green at the bottom edge, which was tipped with a fine, fine line of yellow. It really looked like a dark shade drawn over a window with brilliant sun behind it, that can only be seen in a thin golden band at the bottom.
As I drove through downtown Portland, the radio told me that Burnside had a burst water main -- chilly this morning! -- and I should look for an alternate route across the river. As I registered this in dismay, I saw the orange Detour sign looming up in the spray of headlights. So I went around a few quick blocks in a square, which took me a little out of my way, and gave me a second view of the night sky, from a different and unfamiliar angle. This time, the shades of green and yellow were completely gone, and the sky was a more uniform shading of deep navy, from darker to lighter, looking very like that crushed velvet skirt I used to have -- what did they call that briefly popular dye job? Ombre? Never knew what that meant, always made me think of a Cockney Spaniard. Oy, 'ombre!
Half an hour later, and the sky is a pale Federal blue, shading through white into delicate seashell pink at the bottom. Wouldn't it be fun to just sit and register, possibly write down, all the permutations of color that the sky goes through in the course of a year? It would be different for every place, of course -- trees, mountains, pollution all making it change differently... and possibly it would be a terrible bore, but I think I would enjoy it.
Cold weather, the radio said! At the moment it's 32, so right at freezing, and zero precipitation predicted, which has got to be unusual. Funny, I came out without a coat, and didn't feel cold, but then, I am well-insulated personally, and wasn't standing about on street corners with cardboard signs -- the beggars I regularly pass did look uncomfortable -- I just climbed into my car and drove away. Had to turn off the heater before I even crossed the river -- too warm. Had I been waiting at the bus stop, I would have been chilly, but then I also would have been coated.