Katherine Irish Henry
Skywatcher. A respected friend referred to herself as a fellow Skywatcher. This word fell into place as self-defining. I am a Skywatcher. I have been a Skywatcher as long as I can remember. Big skies over the desert, approaching weather defined by the size and shapes of clouds. My father used to talk about the meaning of clouds. Clouds have threatened, whirled with power, beautifully choreographed by the growing pressure between hot and cold air. Sunsets have signaled that it was time to bicycle home – my nose and skin full of the scent of rich earth, corn and the warmth of the sun. Skies touch the edges of water, trees, desert, mountains, islands. They hold all colors at one time or another. I dream about vast spaces, one home dwarfed, the land made rough by air, fire, and water and the pressures and rotation of the earth.