Yesterday’s wind continued today, but with the added bonus of a driving sideways rain for about an hour this morning. But it was the clouds that played a starring role in my walk today. This morning’s heavy grey blanket gave way to giant pillows and wisps this afternoon. Shadows chased the sun down the trail ahead.

My friend Alvaro shared this bit of prose with me by Azorín. I think it is fitting for my walk today.

Las nubes, sin embargo, que son siempre distintas, en todo momento, todos los días, van caminando por el cielo. Hay nubes redondas, henchidas, de un blanco brillante, que destacan en las mañanas de primavera sobre los cielos translúcidos. Las hay como cendales tenues, que se perfilan en un fondo lechoso. Las hay grises sobre una lejanía gris. Las hay de carmín y de oro en los ocasos inacabables, profundamente melancólicos, de las llanuras. Las hay como velloncitos iguales e innumerables, que dejan ver por entre algún claro un pedazo de cielo azul. Unas marchan lentas, pausadas; otras pasan rápidamente. Algunas, de color de ceniza, cuando cubren todo el firmamento, dejan caer sobre la tierra una luz opaca, tamizada, gris, que presta su encanto a los paisajes otoñales.

Translation:

The clouds, however, that are always different, at all times, every day, they walk the sky. There are round, billowing clouds, bright white, which stand out in the Spring mornings on the translucent skies. There are wispy veils, which are outlined in a milky background. There are gray on a gray distance. They are of carmine and gold sunsets endless, deeply melancholy plains. There are as equal and inmumerables fleeces, which show by between a piece of a clear blue sky. Some march slowly, paused; others pass quickly. Some, ash-colored, when they cover all the sky, dropped on earth a dull light, subdued gray, which lends its charm to autumnal landscapes.

Today I walked 20 miles.