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He understands other enjoyable aspects of the scenery: the opportunity to get away from the Academy, the lake, the sun, the comfy towel, the umbrella protecting Nyota from developing skin cancer later in life. But he doesn't understand the shapes Nyota pulls out of the sky, as if the clouds were an album of white, fluffy animals.
"There's a rabbit, over there by the mountain," Nyota points towards the other edge of the lake, then sips her drink through a straw.
He squints (it's too bright) and can almost see the rabbit, though it looks contorted. "I suppose," he says, feigning discovery. When he looks over at Nyota, she's wearing a smile - she doesn't believe him.
--
Hundreds of light-years from Earth, clouds still inspire the same mysticism, only this time instead of enjoying the safe, sunny lake on Earth, Spock stands on a balcony overlooking Ki Baratan, Romulus' capital city.
"What are you doing out here, Spock?" Jim asks from behind him. He yawns audibly, and then drapes an arm across Spock's shoulders as he steps up to his side. "Adding this to your sunrise collection?" Two fingers come up to tap at Spock's temple, and he glances sidelong at Jim.
"Jim."
"What?" Jim grins, and then looks out across the city. "You should get back inside before someone takes a shot at you."
"I doubt they will try."
"Suit yourself…hey, look at that," Jim points up to the sky towards puffy clouds coming off the ocean. "That looks like the Enterprise."
Spock looks, and tilts his head. Cylinders, maybe something that looks like a saucer – he just nods.
"Jim, Spock—your kali-fal's getting cold!" They both cringe at Leonard's Romulan enunciation, barely soothed by Nyota's following laughter, and then step back into the lounge of their shared Imperial chambers.
--
Spock's not sure what necessitates hosting a picnic, but everybody else seems to be clamoring for one, so they set the table out on the deck in the afternoon, fire up the grill, and everyone pours out into the backyard.
Sovar, thirteen, wrestles in the grass with Jim (though Spock wonders if Jim should be doing that at fifty years old); T'Mira, nine, wants to try to wrestle, too, but she can't find a hair-band, so she waits anxiously for her mother to find one in the house; Silas, five, crouches by the rose bush with his focus on a slow-moving, benign insect. Spock watches the yard from the deck, standing by Leonard and the barbecue.
"This is a good grill," Leonard says, and the grill hisses after he flips the meat. "Shame I can't cook more burgers on it…"
"You may prepare a small one for Silas," he says. Spock feels the surprise through the bond, confirmed when he looks over.
Leonard stares, and then snorts with a small smile before turning his attention back to the grill. "You think he'd like a small one with cheese?"
"He does favour cheese." The rest, Spock has no data on. He feels a small tug at his robes, and looks down to see Silas standing there, staring up at him.
"Baba," Silas says, holding his hands up. 'Pick me up' is what that means, Spock has learned through trial and error, so he crouches down to pick him up, though he takes care not to bring his youngest son too near the fire.
"Do you see the thermal energy, Silas?" Spock asks, and Silas stares at the grill, and nods. "It is breaking the bonds of the proteins so you may digest them easier."
"Oh." Silas looks down at his stomach as if to picture that process, and then up at the sky. His eyes search for something before he points out, "Baba, an icosagon."
He looks up to the sky where Silas is pointing and blinks. The sides are rounded out due to the physics of cloud vapor, but…"Yes," Spock agrees, "that is an icosagon."
--
*an icosagon is a 20-sided polygon