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A month on the trains from coast, to coast, to coast, along with fellows sending pictures of weird skies with never before seen starburst, geometric line, triple grid clouds and record opposite temperatures in very zone, affronts the mind.
Back east, above the snowcrete, the skies were clearly manufactured. The sun was strong. But it was so cold, when it shone, it merely glazed the snow.
Over Belair and Baltimore, Maryland, Lancaster, Ephratta and Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, the dawn brought a sky already being painted. The air frames were sometimes visible. The lines were horizon to horizon.
Kansas and Lower Missouri seemed to have natural skies. Chicago and Saint Louis showed a single grid at what I have come to prefer as mid altitude, keeping in mind that Wetzel informed me that the lines are much higher than they appear. These lines are shorter and wider than I have been used to and begin to swirl within minutes, rather than laying for an hour.
Denver showed clear skies, with snow only above 9,000 feet.
Western Colorado and Utah, until night came down, showed a single bank of long chem trails from Grand Junction to Moab.
Come morning, natural clouds were light in the sky among snowy northern Nevada peaks. Then yawned Reno. The skies were totally clear about noon when I stretched on the platform. Then I looked up and saw an air frame at what I call mid altitude belching a wide chemtrail. This trail stopped on the other side of Reno and the air frame disappeared. It is not just that the chemtrail asks the eye to look for a plane at its head. It is something about the air frame when it is dispensing whatever this stuff is, that glows ghostly, then vanishes when the lineal cloud stops being created. In that half hour on the platform I saw six more air frames making short dump runs over Reno, at mid and high altitude. I am amazed that I can see the glowing air frames at twice the elevation as the one that vanished when it’s chemtrail, which I would have to guess, in ignorance, was hundreds of yards wide, stopped dispensing. The trail seems to be twice as wide as the air frame at the tail and then triples in width in a second, then hangs. The hanging pattern is like a rhythm of saw-tooth lines…
Over Donner Pass there are no clouds and more snow than the Colorado Rockies, again, with snow only at about 9000 feet and up. The sun was brutal hot and had burned off the snow from all of the south faces and some of the north faces.
Sacramento was low overcast skies with a thin drizzle from 3 PM the 10th through 130 AM the 11th.
Dawn broke on the 11th with us north of Mount Shasta, California and south of Lake Klamath, Oregon. The clouds to the west, towards the Pacific, were normal, whispering beautifully off the mountains, the soft rain spitting down. To the east the sun was brutally bright in the Southeastern Sky. In that quarter air frames were laying down chem trails in the high distance, above lower traces that had been dumped earlier. These were not natural cloud formations. The cascades around Grant’s Pass were only covered in snow about 9,000 feet where the evergreens shielded the snow from the brutal solar glare. The snows had been burned from the tops of the mountains on all faces. This was shocking. The sun hurt our eyes as we sat in the viewing car, sunglasses coming on as if we viewed a summer horizon.
We arrived in Portland on a sunny afternoon at about 5:10 PM. It is usually dark this time of year and day in Portland’s rainy season. The rains were supposed to come on the night of the 12th, which they did. But in the meantime, viewing the skies high above, I counted a dozen air frames laying cloud at mid and high level. This recalled Northeastern New Mexico three weeks earlier, heading to Kansas, where I counted 32 air frames at three levels, running long chem trails from horizon to horizon east to west, north to south, and northeast to southwest.
On the 12th and the 13th the skies are painted with dozens of air frames, wondering if Phaeton has gained the indulgence of Helios once again.
This morning, the rains do come. I head over to Dog Soldier’s shed with a hammer and roofing tacks. A micro-burst nearly ripped the door off of his den a few weeks back. A hinge, the handle, a stay and his interior latch have all been busted and the door is canted. White trash to the rescue with rubber baseboard strips to cover the gap between the door and the frame from the door side. It will need insulated and rebraced. As I stand over there in the cloudy, mist sifting Portland sky, I recalled seeing great, cloud-waisted Mount Hood out in Greshem yesterday as invisible chariots painted the sky with unlikely lines.
Looking up, I wonder, weren’t we supposed to be in the Eddie Grand Solar Minimum? What astrophysics news I get from the web master tells me that sunspot activity is above normal, radiation X4. Has someone snatched the reins from Helios? More importantly, I muse, if not for the man-made clouds laid down in unnatural grids seen only by a few weird sky gazers, would I have seen a cloud in any American sky other than those few clinging to lofty mountains?
Maybe poison is being dropped on us. But maybe, the only reason why this is not a year without a winter, is these bogus clouds being drawn by USG?
Have they messed something up and are trying to patch it?
There is one note from Ice Age studies, that these things sometimes begin with deluges, and others with a drought. Has USG pointed some magnetic array at Helios to keep him from winking to sleep? If so, will our heavenly furnace grow angry, or perhaps develop a sleep disorder and resulting insanity? Do we even want the sun having a bad dream?
This little man is just trying to survive another winter in hopes of finishing a few more books. This reminds me though, of the subject of my Sunset Saga, a world in which Hyman Maxim gains control of earthly human reproduction, based on the gratitude of those surviving the onset of solar anger by the deployment of the Hyman Shield, a system of orbital buoys. It was just a science-fiction fancy.
Now, this mice of men looks up and wonders, do we have a feline entity circling our wretched nest?
