When I looked out the window this morning, a bright yellow strap of sky ran like a stream of fire across the northeastern sky, enough rumbling and flashing behind it to do more than suggest a storm. I don't go out hunting much anymore, trying to catch the perfect dawn, in part because I can see them light up the sky from the deck--and partly, this summer, because there haven't been that many really big shows.
This hottest of all summers has featured cloudless dawns, broad yellow skies whose great blessing is the way they unloose the sun to spread a golden robe over everything, its Midas touch. But really dramatic skies need clouds, and when they're storm clouds, if you can get into the right place at the right time--timing is everything--you can't miss.
I missed a little this morning. The sky was really something, but I wasn't well situated to catch the brightest colors. Thus, some of the really blessed shots aren't in the camera.
Here's Hospers this a.m., from just east of town.
Isn't that sky something?--almost scary if it weren't so murky with color.
There's some beauty here, not because the cameraman was on top of things, but because the Director of the play put on a great show.
Next time I'll try to do better, which is, after all, just about any of us can do.
Don't listen to my belly-aching. It was a blessing just to be there to see it.
I'm always thankful for the heavens declaring the glory of God.
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