Saturday, June 27, 2009
Yesterday’s thunderstorm filled the Saturday morning with haze. The river churned out of its bed and into the grasses along the bank. Here was a day with a warm sunrise, without wind, without drizzle, without the pressure to punch a time clock. I rode my bicycle along the vacant path. Brightness drifted through branches, edging the leaves with shimmering green. A soft mist held the light in long banners over the water. Ducks the color of night shadows drifted along the edge.
My silent wheels rolled over the bridge and out of town. The lingering rain water embraced every surface and sparkled and danced. My stretching shadow in the fields was surrounded by an aura of bending sunbeams. Only here would I see the impossible image of myself with a halo and long lean legs. I eased up the hill savoring the air. Down the back side and across the ridge above town I traveled on a road empty of loud trucks and speeding cars. I met only a few runners and a group on bicycles with grins as wide as mine.
Okay, kinda sappy writing. Oh well...
When I checked out my photos I discovered I had captured a slice of the GREEN FLASH, not once, but twice. In the movie Pirates Of The Caribbean: At World's End the green flash is is rumored to signify a soul returning from the dead. I didn't hang around to find out. I'd had enough of green weather phenomena the day before (see previous post).
Appalachian Word of the Day
8 hours ago