Good morning, Tor, it’s your twelfth birthday, and also (as usual) it’s Candlemas, the day when the groundhog emerges from his burrow and, if he sees his shadow, goes back in, because “If Candlemas be fair and bright, Come, Winter, have another flight.”
This picture may look like porridge, but it’s a satellite view from yesterday evening (as the shadow of night approached from the east). The clouds hide most of the coastlines and boundaries, but you can make out Iberia (Portugal and Spain) in the lower left, and there’s a red star, meaning, I think, lightning, somewhere near where you are in central Portugal.
You seem to be just inside a great swath of cloud, which slopes northeast and curves up past the British Isles. There is another such swath over more eastern parts of Europe. If you could see the picture moving, you would see both of the cloud systems rotating slowly counterclockwise, like cogs against each other. They also tend to drift eastward. It appears you will be still in, or deeper in, the cloud band today and your local animals will not see sharp shadows of themselves.
So the groundhog may know that a warmer than usual spring is coming. Quite likely, since each of the last three years has been the hottest on record.
These systems of counterclockwise-swirling rising rainy air, and the region over the Mediterranean which is clockwise-swirling, sinking, mostly cloud-free air, are parts of the zones that wrap around the world, and that shift southward in winter and northward in summer. I started making a “Weather” section for my Under-Standing of Eclipses, to lead into the weather prospects for the eclipse coming to the U.S. on August 21 (your cousin Madeline’s first birthday), but I decided it would be too much.