Weaver Point (cloud crafting)

Last month, I had a short but lovely adventure with one of my friends in Stehekin. I could have written about it sooner, but it seems now is as good a time as any.

We kayaked across the lake from the landing to Weaver Point. Technically this is only a mile away, but a mile seems a lot longer when you’re paddling against the wind.

There were apples and blackberries ready to be picked further inland, but there were so many mosquitoes that we couldn't stand comfortably in one spot for more than three seconds. Soon we were simply lounging on one of the picnic tables next to the water and away from the trees, soaking in the sun and appreciating the breeze now that we weren't working against it.

She doesn't always talk much, and I’m quite content with silence, so instead of conversing I took fascination with the clouds. They always catch my attention, but it had been years since I actually sat and watched them or looked for familiar images in their continuously shifting shapes.

A few fleeting recognizable images passed before I stopped searching for drifting abstract versions of sea turtles and laughing men. Suddenly, I became distracted with the wisps of cloud that got pulled and stretched from the main cluster. The white tufts resembled heavenly bundles of cotton or wool ready to be spun into yarn and crafted into angelic scarves and hats and mittens.

I'm not so sure that the earthly materials we use are all that different from those we might wish to grasp from up above. Matter is transformed with ingenuity, practice, and the utmost care. We are motivated by the desire to create and recreate based on a physical need, and inspired by the clouds above.