Weather - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
In this late autumn the weather had been as predictable a Fiona's drug addict brother. She could leave the house under a blue sky broken only with a smattering of picture-book clouds, barely moving in the imperceptible breeze, and return in a frigid rain storm too gusty even for an umbrella. In between the dramatic changes were the smaller ones too, warm became cold when some cumulus blocked the feeble sun, rain could become stinging hail stones could for just a few moments, wicked freezing wind could wane to wintry breeze. Her thoughts tumbled in a chaotic motion between Tom and her physical discomfort from the elements. How could she help him without enabling the habit and risking the tenuous new life that was still as fresh and vulnerable as the newly painted bench she passed in the park? Then she would shiver and raise the hood of her third-hand squall parker that hung about her like a tent on a mannequin.
The weather was impervious to the pleading of the famers, the prayers of the congregation and the pitiful sight of the crops withering before they could be harvested. The sun had ideas of it's own and relished scorching the land, there was no room for the heavenly relief of rain any time soon. Everything was hot to the touch and the woods were tinder-dry, ready to burn on any careless spark. The initial joy at the start of summer had been replaced with constant worry in everyone capable of comprehending the predicament and just listlessness from the young and fragile elderly. The rationing had begun, the huger pangs were ever-present, even game was hard to find.
If the weather could have been court-martialed it would have been shot before the first rays of the new day had struggled through the dense canopy of gun-metal grey above, Winter had come early. The sudden drop in temperature had the poorly equipped government conscripts hypothermic in their bright blue uniforms. If the snipers didn't get them the chill would. No matter what they did their body heat leached into the air and into the frozen soil beneath their cheap boots. Then came the rain, hard, unforgiving, thick and tinged with ice so that it stung as well as drenched them.
The weather was as fickle as Gwen's teenage sister. One minute it overflowed with generous sunshine and warmth, all sweetness and brilliant unfettered golden rays. The next it was dark, brooding, resisting the sun, threatening to bring down a storm with every ounce of power at its disposal. At other times it was just indecisive, flirting with ideas of cold and warmth, freezing fog or a just touch of light mist. And with all these changes it never once took her feelings into account. As with Maddie, she was either basking in glory, raised high on a pedestal, or thrown to the wolves, her emotions in tatters. Her head span between each change in status from cherished best friend to annoying brat of whom she was nothing but embarrassed.
All the same, the citizens of Magnolia were overjoyed. Never have they been blessed with such beautiful weather. The streets were once again teeming with life, vivacious with movement and spirited in jollity. Flowers of the season tilted their smiling faces towards the sun while the sunlit clouds drifted across the clear blue sky. Ponds were bathed in a golden hue by the gentle sunlight, the water in it as clear as crystal.
For some unascertainable reasons, the weather on this particular date was none of these. As a matter of fact, it was strangely pleasant and cool with a constant breeze. Usually the Sun would be the cruel mistress who’d beat down on her slaves – the people – in her own relentless way but instead, today she was acting kindly and humble towards them. As soon as dawn descended, she rose in a magnificent pool of roseate and crimson and gold, spilling fingers of light all over the land and boasting her beauty through the scudding clouds. This was all very astonishing, yet also very appeasing. Was God feeling generous and light-hearted today, so much that He wished to do humanity a favour? Or perhaps the wind pushed the warm front to the other side of the country. Or, as foolish as it sounds, could it even be a sign of good omen for the future?
Bright and dry with a fresh wind. The ground wet with last nights rainfall. A few sparse clouds racing across the sky, chased by a cold, keen wind.
Think black clouds and thunder rolled in from the east and rain began to fall.
The sky above was full of tumultuous, dark, ragged clouds.
The weather is gorgeous today, that means a high pressure front, right? Blue skies, no wind, ambient temperature - it’s more like an absence of weather really. Perfect for our long anticipated walk. I do hope you aren’t expecting too much, it’s nice, but not like the kind of scenery you’ll get on the way to Whistler or anything like that. Why don’t you go get in the car? You won’t need a key, you spectral types never do...
I forecast the weather. With no formal training, I do not claim infallibly about my forecasting, but neither can I deny it. What are my thoughts about weather? My feelings are standardized and American. This means that on the grey days of winter, I wish it was July the 4th, with bands blaring and parades. And when August hits like a hot iron, I'm thinking cold winds of January. But like any true American, I am not ashamed to strongly vocalize any season of discontent. On the other hand, when the world is bathed in warm sunshine on beautiful April days, I am content. And on the flip side of the calendar, I feel satisfaction when the cool winds of October stir the autumn leaves of gold and brown. As I mentioned before, these viewpoints are standardized. Oh, there are always a few “contrary” people, who inwardly agree, but would never openly admit that I am right. I forecast good weather for you.
Fitfully sunny, heavy squalls of rain, downpour, unseasonably mild, bunched clouds tumble across sky, buffeting wind, keen wind, hissing of the wind, intermittent sunshine, wind shaking tree tops, wind rising in erratic gusts, gusting wind caught her unawares, gale screamed across the heathland.
slowly falling ice rain, desperate coldness, morning chill, hiatus of calm, blustery, wisps of cloud, ethereal blue sky, perfect autumnal day, muggy summer heat, fresh and cool
storm clouds, torrential rain, watery splatters, thin drizzle, drizzle strengthening to steady rain, misty window, torn shreds of clouds, low ceiling of cloud, scudding clouds, silver-grey cloud, dark heavy clouds, ominous clouds, darkly foreboding clouds, rain-drenched air, rain washed panes, flash of lightening, crack of thunder, boom of thunder, roar of thunder, raining cats and dogs, coming down in buckets, curtain of water, sheets of rain, glistening road, heavy drops of rain,