I’m not sure there are terms to adequately describe the commingling of nature against nature.
The sand dune isn’t particularly large, but I was able to duck down enough to obscure the sea for this photo. I’m usually all about the ocean and her cycles, but this particular tree made me catch my breath. She’s hanging on for dear life, and still she couldn’t be more beautiful.
The lives we live — so fluid and so cross-hatched with a large serving of both agony and endless beauty.
In fact I love them like crazy and I don’t even bother wondering why — I just look up in awe every day, gasp a little, and snap. Honestly, there’s not a day that I arrive home without some new cloud photo stashed in my computer.
This one was snapped at dusk near my daughter’s house, and I can’t help wondering when the fire will capture her too.
And it’s an interesting thing about clouds — I almost always miss the grand finale. I suppose it’s because I tend to come home at 5 or 6 and stay there. And even though the clouds are everywhere around me, my house is secluded, the trees abundant and tall, and to be honest, I forget.
Yes, I forget what isn’t in front of my eyes at a given moment. We’re all like that to some extent, but you know what? It’s a huge flaw in our day to day. Too often, the magic is exactly where we don’t look.
But then … on the days that I have a bit more leeway, I might walk out of the grocery store or bookstore or starbucks and BAM — I’m gobsmacked by the pulsing light that streaks the sky with gusto, almost as if the sky accidentally broke and, in the time it took to fit the pieces back together, we’ve almost, almost, forgotten that moment of magic.
Because we humans — we really need to learn to SEE.
Pam Goode Writes 