It’s about as plain a sky as you’ll ever see. Only the slightest hint of pink just above the ridge over toward the east. That shifts to a bland paleness with a bare suggestion of blue that stretches up then as far as the eye can see, especially when the eye is looking through a window. From this angle, I see only a single small cloud, grayish blue, moving quickly south beyond my view of black branches.
The longest slender branches shift and shudder in the wind, its cold sendings suggesting this would be a wonderful day to stay inside with a good book and an even better cup of coffee.
But our days are seldom arranged by the weather, only influenced by it to some degree. I will wear a good coat, warm gloves, and hope that my walks outside are short and quickly to the point. I will try to carry a smile and manage a friendly voice, be kind to strangers and pleasant to friends.
In the midst of this minor resolve, almost suddenly now, I see the orange burn of the coming sun in the slight dip of the ridge. In a just two minutes, its flaming rise will run to red and be too bright for unshielded eyes and I will have to lower the shade.
My day is no longer plain, nor is any day that the Lord has made. It is not our seeing that makes the substance though our believing does shape the perception.
This will be a good day.