I don't see it as a sign of old age and forgetfulness. Neither do I see it as odd, although nothing on the internet seems to cater to this particular curiosity of mine. I can stroll and scroll through dozens of sites which offer weather reports and forecasts, but I have never found a site that shows what the weather actually turned out to be.

By the time that a major weather event is complete, I have trouble remembering how it started, and nowhere can I find an "instant replay". As a case in point, I'd like to reinforce my recollections of how last week's weather unfolded, spoiling our fancies of springtime. The core of the problem was a stationary front that stretched across the state; a blue and red line that looks something like a coral snake on the TV weather chart.

Stationary fronts are the meteorological equivalent of a trench war, where hot and cold fight to a stalemate in one spot rather than as a running battle. The bad weather does not approach and pass by, it just moves back and forth. Small shifts in the front make big differences in the weather below. Some days are much better than forecast, some days are worse, but a stationary front is never good. Figuratively, we are ground into the muddy ruts of this great weather machine as it rolls back and forth over us.

It all started the weekend before last. The glories of Saturday morning's dawn were masked by a hazy gray layer of cold air that was pinned to the surface. Spatters of drizzle wafted against my face as I readied the airplane, but I knew that I was experiencing only a part of the morning's weather story. I expected that things would be very different once I reached the warmer air that had started to flow up from the south.

On this morning, I climbed through the shallow layer of clouds and abruptly entered nothing less than the vaults of heaven. White clouds floated at all distances and all altitudes amidst a blue sky that was raked by sunbeams. I was passing through a local rain shower, and the fresh sun near the eastern horizon was casting a rainbow against the low gray clouds and patches of soggy landscape to the west.

As I cruised along, I saw all sorts of clouds above, below, and beside me. White ones, pink ones, and gray ones in all different tones, amidst patches of open sky. I was overwhelmed as a twenty minute parade of perfect cloudscapes passed my windows. If I had grown up to be rich or famous, I would not have been privileged with moments like this.

Elmira was wet and gray at the end of my flight, and the rest of the day had good visibility under a low, gray, and showery sky. Sunday was an all- day snow, and Monday was cold and windy with blinding snow squalls. I think that Tuesday was warmer but dull, but from there on my memory is muddled by the long stretch of discouraging days.

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.

Springtime is a time of clouds, the seeds of our April showers. None of our seasons has a monopoly on clouds, but this is the time of the year we look to the sky with brighter eyes. Warm sunshine and spring breezes will push away the slate gray slabs of winter clouds, and another summer will bloom... despite our last ten days!

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.