It’s grey today.  

The kind when the clouds resemble thick blankets, all corded together, an ombré tapestry of greys and white. 

Softbox grey, you know? 

And I know there are folx all over the continent wishing for the warm, sunny weather we’ve been having (wishing their grey away), but we need this so badly it hurts.

Wildfires still burn, and every day without rain becomes one more day of fiery possibility. Already this earth is so thirsty, so parched, it’s waiting to crack open.

Plus, I like this grey.

Need it, even.

I don’t do well in too much warmth, under too much light. My head and heart need a break, and grey is just the sort of lull it craves.