1.

It is a hot, cloud free day as Nicola and I drive down 'Refinery Road' to a bridge over the Danube to capture this last image from NOAA-15's 'Extended Life' operations.

Car parking spaces back onto the river bank and grill parties are in full swing. Large groups of friends and families have set-up chairs, tables and gazebos. Charcoal smoke and river mist hang in the air. On the far side of the bridge, the road curves away creating an only slightly more secluded area that is designated nudist. The nudist zone extends well beyond its official markings on the cycle path that announce, 'FKK' (Freikörperkultur or Free Body Culture).

Nicola and I set-up our makeshift satellite ground station at centre point of the bridge: my rucksack shielding the laptop from cyclists, large cat fish swimming below. We are soon joined by Mykola, who introduces himself as being part of a 'space team'. Mykola is Ukrainian, has purple hair, and an immediate warmth about him. He stays for the entire satellite pass and after we listen to air traffic control chatter. Mykola has more technical knowledge than me, but is humble in his questioning and openness to learn. It is a good feeling to have shared this particular satellite pass with someone so enthusiastic, and at such a beautiful location.

2.

This symbolic image of three satellites transitioning to different 'life phases', is for my siblings. Three being, for me, ever associated with navigating siblinghood. Three in the back of the car, three battle-scarred teenage bedroom doors, and the skill I had no choice to develop of being able to accurately divide anything into three equal parts. I am one of four but my youngest sibling joined us years later. So, Ray and Joe: this image of transition, of storms, and of night turning to day, is for you.

3.

I am writing this Weather Note a day late, sat in bed, my mind and body still trying to cohere after ten days of international travel for work. I have a strong, consuming feeling that I have experienced since childhood, which is the world needs to slow or stop or pause just long enough for me to catch-up. I first felt this way as a primary school-aged child, sat on the intensely patterned carpet of the stairs in my parent's house, overwhelmed by the conviction that Earth was spinning too fast. I worried that if it sped-up anymore, I would be thrown off and tumble in outer space, my home receding into the darkness. I had good reason to feel this way, I was multiple academic years behind my school mates, unable to read even the most basic words.

Now, when I read the news, I have the sense that geopolitical events are accelerating. Yesterday, Iran and Israel exchanged missiles ("Tehran will burn" warned Netanyahu), the day before a US lawmaker and her husband were assassinated. Throughout, people in Gaza continue to be be killed by the Israeli military as they seek food aid.

In these unreal days, my thoughts often drift to our collaborator and friend, Golrokh Nafisi, who is in Tehran with her family.