Angel, mermaid, or something else?

Sky over Granby MA, 2/10/2026
Photo by Barb Hahn

Head in the Clouds Amherst follower, Barb Hahn,shared this beautiful photo she took earlier this week, and I just had to pass it along.

What does it look like to you?

Barb sees an angel, and her friend says it looks like a mermaid with flowing hair. I’m seeing soft, feathery cirrocumulus high up in the atmosphere.

Cirrocumulus clouds often form in winter when moist air rises high into the cold upper levels of the atmosphere, where supercooled water droplets gather into tiny ripples and cloudlets before freezing into ice crystals.

Now I’m curious -- angel, mermaid… or something else entirely?

(And thank you for sharing, Barb - we always love seeing the clouds through other people's lenses!)

Finding Middle-earth in Amherst

Photo by James Patten (originally featured
in the 2024 Head in the Clouds Amherst calendar)

This featured photo for February in the 2026 Head in the Clouds Amherst wall calendar comes from Jim Patten, who captured this scene at Hampshire College in Amherst.

At first glance, you might think Jim had been wandering around Middle-earth rather than a college campus when he came upon this moment. What drew the jury to this image is its otherworldly, almost mythic quality — an everyday maple transformed, a doorway into another world.

In a winter that has been unrelentingly cold, this photograph feels especially well-timed. The fog blurs the boundaries, and the landscape offers a brief mental escape — proof that even when February is at its most stubborn, our surroundings can still surprise us.

Here’s to finding small portals out of the deep freeze when we need them most.

From "Bob, the Ugly Squirrel"

One of the quiet gifts of creating 𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐶𝑙𝑜𝑢𝑑𝑠 𝐴𝑚ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑡 has been discovering where it travels – and who it keeps company with.

I recently received a handwritten letter from 𝐁𝐨𝐛 𝐏𝐚𝐮𝐥, a longtime reader and friend of the calendar, writing from California. Bob has written before about how he uses our wall calendar as a companion for looking up – especially when the sky has something special to offer.

Bob shared this account of a mid-December night he recently spent watching the Geminids meteor shower:

𝐈 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐬. 𝐃𝐞𝐜. 𝟏𝟐–𝟏𝟒 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐬…

𝟏𝟎𝟎 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐚𝐧 𝐃𝐢𝐞𝐠𝐨, 𝟐𝟎 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐄𝐥 𝐂𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨. 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐎𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨 – 𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞.

𝟏:𝟐𝟎 𝐀𝐌 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝟏𝟎𝟎% 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲. 𝐆𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 – 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐤𝐲 𝐖𝐚𝐲. 𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐭 - 𝐝𝐨𝐠 - 𝐎𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐁𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬. 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲.

𝐀𝐭 𝟐:𝟐𝟎 𝐀𝐌 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝟏𝟎𝟎! 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬… 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐩.

𝟓𝟕°. 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.

(And then, with a sign-off that still makes me smile: "𝐵𝑜𝑏, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑢𝑔𝑙𝑦 𝑠𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑙.")

I love this letter not just for its poetry and precision, but for what it represents – someone far from the Valley, standing on the side of a road in the dark, counting meteors, orienting himself by constellations, using the sky as both map and meaning.

That’s what Head in the Clouds Amherst has always hoped to be: an invitation to notice. To be curious. To step outside, literally or figuratively, and look up.

As we head into 2026, my wish for all of us is simple: may you find moments like Bob’s. Clear skies. Unexpected beauty. And reasons to pause, tilt your head back, and remember you’re part of something vast and wonderful.

Here’s to a new year full of clouds, stars, stories – and the people who take the time to notice them.

(Alas, I did not take this photo of the Geminds over the desert southwest, but I like to think this is what Bob was seeing. Credit: ABC News)

Echoes of celebration

South Pleasant Street & The Amherst Town Common, Amherst MA
Photo by Joshua Wolfsun

This featured photo for January – and the opening image of the 2026 Head in the Clouds Amherst calendar – comes from Joshua Wolfsun, who photographed this scene along South Pleasant Street and the Amherst Town Common.

I’ve always loved how Joshua captured this early January dawn: holiday lights still sparkling, their glow reflected on icy streets. The scene feels both rare and familiar, holding that fleeting moment when the old year has passed but the echoes of celebration still linger.

For 2026, the final edition of our calendar, the jury selected their favorite images from more than a decade of past calendars rather than issuing an open call. This photograph originally appeared as the December image in our 2018 calendar, though it was actually taken just after the New Year – which feels exactly right for a scene suspended between endings and beginnings. ✨❄️