The Day a Cloud Wore a Cheery Hat

Still, as I mused, the naked room, The alien firelight died away; And from the midst of cheerless gloom, I passed to bright, unclouded day.    --Emily Brontë, "A Little While, A Little While" I've written many times about summer clouds in Colorado; moisture-laden air blows over the Rockies to the west, flowing to the east. The Midwestern plains butt up against the hills, and as the afternoon Sun heats them, warm air rises vigorously and meets the eastward-flowing wave. Within a few dozen kilo...