I love contrail weather. I could happily watch the jet art all day long. Like the marks a figure skater leaves on the ice, they are trails of grace. (Please don't tell me it's not good for the environment.)
There's something about watching a jet cutting a path through the sky that leaves me feeling slightly breathless and waiting, wishing for a sonic boom...one of the joy-filled memories of growing up near a naval air station.
I just like to imagine where the jet is taking them? Off to work in anther city or the start of an exotic holiday somewhere. Sigh!
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