I know it's something left over from childhood, a whimsical way to pass the afternoon lying on the grass of a hill and wondering when you were going to grow up and be free. I know they are cursed at, danced for, wished against, Dopplered and satellite mapped. They are just too cool, different colors, shapes, sizes, speed, texture, and it fascinates me to no end that while we focus so much on what happens close to the ground, they are constantly rearranging themselves above us, just waiting for us to take one infinitely small but immeasurably huge moment and notice the miles of atmosphere above us, the way it protects us against not existing, painting our day with a backdrop of beauty that has, as the years have passed, only been cause for concern of needing sunscreen, of whether to wash the car, of relief from the heat or of delays at the airport. It's a shame, because we all need more beauty. We search for it in incorrect places, looking for it in the wrong relationship, a certain food, the number on your bank account statement, when it's free and available to so many, if they would just take a moment to notice.

We pulled off to the side of the road in rural Indiana:

From our driveway, on a beautiful day with the kids playing happily together: