Photo Credit: Storm Clouds over Lone Pine by Gary Hamburgh - All Rights Reserved
The Golden Hour with Extra “Sauce”.
When the sun is hovering tentatively above the horizon, merely thinking about setting, reaching it’s golden fingers across the valley floor to touch the maple trees in such a way as to gild their verdant leaves a very particular shade of flaxen sage, almost as if it is bidding the trees goodnight.
It’s even more impressive when a dark and menacing thunder storm seems to be hurrying the sun to it’s bed below the horizon. The contrast is quite otherworldly. This is my favorite kind of sunset.
Idyllic. In every way. It is easy to imagine the perfect lives that must live behind the walls of the elegant farm houses I rush past at 72mph. Easy because I don’t know them, have never seen them, will never see them (that I know of).
I imagine their perfect, homey holidays around their family hearths, the scent of cinnamon and apples filling the air. Their undoubtedly peaceful existence as they watch the sun set on their fields, the frost kissing the leaves just outside their shimmering windows of joy.
You see, ignorance IS bliss.
Photo Credit: Flickr MattNJohnson's photostream
I was enjoying a latte’ in a local cafe’ this morning, balancing my checkbook at a private table in the corner, when the repetitive sounds of a “taptaptaptaptaptaptap” touched my ears.
I looked across the room and saw a rather odd looking fellow who seemed to be having great difficulty keeping still. He kept rubbing his hands across his knees in a strange, fidgety way, bouncing both legs as though he desperately wanted to sprint about the room but knowing it simply wasn’t allowed.
He was making quite a racket and was more than a little creepy.
Subdued. Everything is calm and quiet. Lucy is laying at my feet as I write, alert and listening for Robert to come back from the store. She’s been staying close to me and Rob all day long and seems fine…until one of us leaves the room. Clearly she wants us nearby.
The clouds have moved in, driving away heat and sun for another year. Autumn settles heavily around us. This is not a bad thing though. I have always preferred a good thunder storm to a claustrophobic summer day.
100 words. Boy, do I have 100 words for today, and NONE of them fit for proper conversation. *sigh*
Perhaps I should try a different tack. Okay, hows this:
She sighs. She shifts, trying to find a place of comfort. She whimpers softly. She looks at me with her enormous brown eyes, always a question in them…one that looks to me like “why?”
I say, “Because some people are complete dumbasses, Lucy.”
I rub her ears and whisper sweetly how much we love her. It’s time for another pain pill. Goodnight.
The idea is simple: write 100 words every day for one month. 100words.com
Here goes…
Stuck. You know, that place between hope and achievement? The place where you are unable to go back, but cannot move forward either until something happens? I am stuck. Completely powerless, forced to watch another’s struggle, not allowed to help. It’s SO frustrating! It’s completely debilitating…claustrophobic as well. Feels like I’m completely trapped inside a box with no doors, only windows to look out and see what our reality will become once something finally “breaks”. Until then, we are stuck…forced to sit in the audience of life as time continues to tick away. I hate being stuck.
