In my last post, I hoped that the snow that came in August and September augured favorably for a good winter. Now, having just passed the autumnal equinox and officially entered fall, another sign appeared in the sky that, hopefully, points toward an eventful autumn and winter season (truth be told, at this point, any emphasis on signs is more a function of my son reading the Iliad, Odyssey and Aeneid for school). This time, seemingly out of nowhere, a fantastic lenticular appeared over Mount Shasta. The days have been warm, minimal cloud presence has been the norm and no precipitation is in sight. Nonetheless, the day was, at times, cloudy and the formation that developed over Mount Shasta was far more than anything I had anticipated. Though unexpected, it made for an exciting day in the sky.
When it began, there were clouds gathered over Mount Shasta but no sign of a lenticular forming. The thing that really interested me was the horizontal beams of light passing through the saddle between Green Butte Ridge and Jack Flat. It can be very dramatic if you time it right, especially if the summit of Green Butte cuts into the beam and casts its long shadow across the west face of Mount Shasta. This, plus the presence of blooming sage and the chokecherry turning gold made it feel like fall was indeed arriving.
Little did I know that, though the foliage was heralding the arrival of fall, so too was the spectacle over Mount Shasta. The clouds that had been present early on coalesced into a set of lenticulars. One small stack hovered over the summit while another massive cloud arched across the mountain higher in the sky. I could tell something interesting was afoot.
By the early afternoon the formation had tightened up considerably and now presented a single massive, layered set of discs over Mount Shasta. The small stack had collapsed and its cloudy detritus still lingered around Mount Shasta’s summit. This cloud looked like it had staying power and I was hopeful we were going to get a good sunset.
The late afternoon had gotten very overcast and the pall that hung over the sky nearly rendered the lenticular indistinguishable. However, I still headed out to see if, somehow, the sun would conquer the clouds and light things up as it set. When I got to a spot that I liked, Mount Shasta was nearly in shadow and the lenticular was lacking the distinct form it had had earlier in the day.
To my good fortune, as the sun set behind the Little Scott Mountains behind me, the light on Mount Shasta (and all the clouds too!) as well as the shape of the lenticular both improved. Further blessing this beautiful scene was the developing presence of a second, larger lenticular. It manifested out of a layer of cloud that had not given any hint of lenticular aspirations.
Now with both lenticular formations lighting up and the rest of the sky pulsing with alpenglow, it was an utterly magnificent sunset, the kind that makes one cheer the coming of the fall season and thank the Lord for the opportunity to witness such a grand performance. More of this all fall please!
As the scene to the east went dark, the show to the west was reaching its triumphal moment. I felt like a Roman general celebrating my own triumphal parade through the streets of the eternal city, witnessing the pinnacle of Roman glory. Yet in the midst of the revelry was the message being whispered in my ear “remember thou art mortal”. A scene like this makes one feel small and mortal, but in the healthiest of ways. This is the glory of the one far greater than I.