Clouds

Finally a glorious morning. Bright sunshine bathed everything in its path with golden rays and the exuberant song of robins and other birds welcoming spring echoed through the nearby woods.
Double digit temperatures in the past days had melted the ice around the edge of the lake and the remaining mass floated like a giant cube in the middle, at least two hundred feet away.

A mild breeze molded the open waters into ripples and pushed these gently onto the shore, losing momentum while making a soothing sound as they washed over the rocks.
It had been a long and hard winter and the warm rays of the sun were more than welcome. This day was no longer just a promise of spring.
Missi Girl and Mohrle, confined to the indoors for the longest time, managed to pry open the screen door from the sun room onto the deck just wide enough to squeeze through. Happy to have escaped, they were enjoying newfound freedom in the warm sunshine.

Barnie, the all-knowing owl flew in silently behind them and settled on an Adirondack chair, left behind after the first snow had hit last November.
Mohrle sat up, looking at the blue sky and remarked to his sister.
"Look at those clouds, so beautifully white and fluffy. I wonder where they come from. Wouldn't it be fun to be on one of those? I bet you could see everything for miles."
His little sister turned and answered, "Don't be silly. You can't sit on one of those clouds you'd fall right through them. And how would you get up on a cloud in the first place?"
Mohrle thought for a minute before he replied.
"I don't know yet, but I'll find out how to get up onto one of them. I'm sure there is a way. Maybe if I go to the top of that mountain across the lake. See how the clouds touch the top? And I don't think I'd fall through they look solid enough. What are they made of anyway? Just look at that big one right there. I've been following it from where it came from behind that other mountain on the right. It hasn't changed its shape: it sails right along with all the others. Who makes these things and out of what?"
Missi Girl looked at Mohrle as if he had lost it. "You're feeling all right brother dear? How would I know where clouds come from? And what they are made of. Let's enjoy the moment. It's too nice a day to be talking about clouds. Someday, somebody will explain the mystery and that will be fine by me."

Missi Girl seemed to be done with the subject and stretched out to savor

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