Clear skies. I hope
that means smooth sailing tonight as we head west to Montana. What a change the 1400 miles shall make. A change of landscape. A change in my soul? We go knowing we shall come back. What if we plodded west knowing we'd make a home there as the pioneers did? How would my heart be changed? How could it not be changed?
I clear dew from the windshield of the pick-up. Across the street, old men prepare to go fishing. One of them puts a bait bucket in the boat behind a pick-up. The other waits in the driver's seat, patiently, for these are slow old men and they are patient to the fishing and all the way to their chewing.
If you want to believe in God, walk barefoot through the morning dew on your lawn. Can you watch the sun rise and be an unbeliever? I don't know.
No wind on the flag at the cemetery.
A flock of sea gulls white against the green of alfalfa.
Another field of sweetcorn has been taken.
Why are swallows swallows?
There is a grey haze to the west, like smoke coming this way; it is low along the horizon.
You paint such beautiful pictures in here. I love coming back to see what's been posted.
Posted by: Ross | August 11, 2006 at 08:19 AM