"The crack of dawn," it's usually referenced by sweat-of-the-brow work, as in "meet me at the crack of dawn." But I'm retired, so to me it means something else altogether. Witness this morning.
The cloud cover that's been with us, a quilt, throughout the day today was ranging quickly toward the eastern horizon when I looked out my window. I had to scurry, for this particular "crack of dawn" wasn't about to tarry.
So this morning "crack of dawn" was itself actually what we might call a window that closed rapidly, soon after this shot. But before this retired guy's "crack of dawn," that incredible anticipatory morning light was sheer epic.
Nothing builds drama like contrast, so this morning, cloud cover on the way, we had it in spades, stunning spades.
The Floyd was happy to catch what there was, I'm sure, at least I'd call this something of a smile, if rivers can. Maybe the show was more intense because so fleeting--you know, "make hay while the sun shines." If that doesn't work, try your own little maxim. There are dozens, I'm sure.
Sadly, the show was over in ten minutes, maybe less. But if you were there at the time, like me and my camera, you got yourself a blessing. For years I've called this painted desert aloft something akin to "heavenly preaching," taking my cue from King David's "the heavens declare." There are times--and they are fleeting--when the sermon in the skies isn't just words, it's pure revelation.
No comments:
Post a Comment