Cerulean Cape transcendentalism

There was a heavy mist collecting near the tops of the trees. It wasn't so far-off from being a proper cloud, but it was thin and pale like cobwebs stretched too thin. There was no way for him to really see the rain that was cascading in the middle of the ocean, but the earthen boy could tell that there was darkness on the horizon. The air around him felt almost electric. There certainly would be a storm tonight and Mink, ever the storm-chaser, wasn't sure if he was safe to linger on this spit of land or if maybe he should retreat. He was not so bold as to think himself immune to incliment weather, or the potential damage of thunder and lightning; so after some thought he began to trace a route along the peninsula, drinking in breaths of the heavy mist, the pungent evergreen, the sharp-tasting and familiar sea. Every so often the boy would turn to observe the sky and wonder, 'grandmother, are you seeing this?'