The sky holds its greatest charm when the weather is changing. Except for its few moments of transition at dawn and dusk, a clear sky is as dull as an unfurnished room. When the weather is bad, and we are beneath the belly of the beast, all we can see are its dungeon shades of gray. Only when weather is on our doorstep, coming or going, is its splendor revealed.

The rainbow to the west as I departed Syracuse.

Eric Sloane, the master cloudsmith could have painted this picture, working at the edge of his imagination. It was my privelege to fly through this sky, watching the different clouds near and far move against each other as I passed.

All airplanes are small when in the company of great clouds.

This was Monday; December squalls in early spring. I took this picture in the field next to my house, and it proves that pilots have no monoploy on great cloudscapes.