Evaporation rose from the earth in visible wisps of white, those watery trails headed skyward, warmed and revealed by the sun's brilliant rays.
I had thought from science class that evaporation needed more warmth than it does. I imagined it would only happen when it felt warm to me. Yet the vapour rose from the ground under the newly risen sun upon such a light command that I was left astounded.
After one of those nights when the earth had chilled beneath a crystalline blanket of white, when the morning sun had come with unfiltered strength, you could see the evaporation from the land, heaven-bound skyward. It was as if the earth had her own aura for those precious moments, as if earth herself were the sun's bride.
On a sunny day I swear you could see the puddles shrinking. I knew it was evaporation, that all that water was simply getting water and heading on up to form heavenly clouds, but the sky was so clear and blue that it still seemed a little bit magical. Fifteen year old me knew it was the water cycle, five year old me thought there must be a fairy nearby waving her magical wand.
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