There was, for just a couple moments, this window. That was it. Maybe twenty minutes or so it stayed there, splashed with color. Not far behind me, the rain came sweeping up from the southwest.
Here's what happened. I checked weather.com, looked at the radar, where outside where the wind was blowing fiercely and flashes of lightning lit the western sky. I climbed in the car anyway, got outside of town, north, where the open skies seemed to run from the clouds, then ticked off the miles north to try to get close to where there might still be a dawn. Like I said, there was this window out front the clouds, a goodly chunk of open sky.
I'm looking for a place to shoot, somewhere on a gravel road north of George, Iowa, a place I'd likely not be able to find back right now, even if I'd look hard. When it comes, the dawn I mean--when the colors seem most resplendent--I can't hunt any longer. I'm on a bridge over a creek, and I'm out of the car with the camera.
It's dark, so there's not much to see or shoot but this wild window of light out east, a stretched canvas smeared with a hundred colors that keeps shifting. So what I've got here is a ton of shots of the very same sky. Bright light never dawned. Soon enough clouds covered the sky, just marched in and took over.
But for a moment at least, that shrinking patch of open prairie sky was the whole story.
And it was a good one.