An uncle, now deceased, used to tell me that Oyens, largely Catholic, had lots of partying girls when he was a kid. Whether or not he was right, it stuck me then as the kind of reaction one might expect from a kid from upright Orange City. Yesterday, however, an abundance of sheer beauty hung on the branches in the neighborhood, enough to make me pull over, try out the camera in my new phone, and take a bit of that beauty home.
Sleet that blew in on Christmas Eve made for a bejeweled yule--not a white Christmas, but even two days later, a remarkable crystalline world.
Wasn't really hoarfrost. For that we wait. When it comes, as it will, the world here holds its own unique charm.
Sleep--and ice storms--bend and break limbs, a reminder that once upon a time out here there was no distinguishing feature anywhere to be seen other than endless prairie grass.
There will likely not be a day quite like yesterday again any time soon--no snow to speak of on a backdrop of naked earth tones, trees and fence posts adorned in that low December sun.
Somehow humbling to think that what was out there yesterday may not be repeated in my lifetime. Maybe I'm just getting old.
Why some moments the camera catches are gorgeous is something I can't explain.
I couldn't help thinking--and I still do--that this featureless space, outfitted in jewelry, foregrounded for that remarkable puffy winter sky, is somehow beautiful just plain beautiful.
Those spicy Oyens girls, circa 1955 or so, likely attended the little church in town. Who knws, some few of them may be laid to rest beneath the churchyard's stunning statue, which, right now, is hardly Christmas-y, but always appropriate.
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