There was was a beautiful sunset last night. In the afternoon a thunderstorm sent welcome rain. No watering of flowers or hopeful vegetables was needed that evening. There were still clouds making their way en masse behind the low hill on the other side of the lake late in the afternoon. This is my favorite kind of sunset. Silver or gold-lined clouds and the knowledge that no picture will do it justice. And why do we need a picture? What is all this picture taking anyway? Sometimes it feels like an attempt to prove that I’m really having an experience. The picture can be shown to others later, sometimes even as the event is happening. The best part about those ten minutes when the sky was preparing for dark last night were the moments when I put aside the iPad and allowed my eye to take in the whole thing. I didn” t have to choose a part of the sky. It was all mine and I was in it. Taking the pictures put me outside the experience, made me frame it. I angled things so that the boat with its incongruous motor should not appear. But what’s wrong with a boat in a picture of a lake, after all? Humans made it to experience the water in a way other than looking at it from the shore. Now I’m sitting on an old swing set up on a rise above the small curved beach by the cabin. I hear the constant gloop, gloop, shush, shush of the little waves driven by the soft breeze, by the cold stream just up from the beach that day and night flows into the lake. I don’t try to record that sound, or the sound of birdsong, or some sound of metal being struck occasionally. Can it be a woodpecker? ( in the relative calm of 7:30 in the morning it reminded me of half hearted hammering of nails into metal. And it was! Someone was doing repairs to the cupola of the little local chapel). So why this rush to fix the images? Because we can? Because we want to hold that moment before it ends? We forget it’s never ending. On the round earth it’s always sunset for someone.
Nice to see it through your eyes. We have been looking and not always seeing for over 60 years now. One never tires of the view nor the bird songs. But there are woodpeckers who hammer on metal to attract their mates…occasionally…and when the kupol is not being installed!! I often sit on that swing after swimming especially and resting with the dogs. Later another swing will join it, this time on the beach under the tree….perhaps it is already there. Later too, your peace will be disturbed by the multitude of children laughing and mothers gossiping. I will be taking my granddaughter there as well although we have our own beach…with no sand. This one has sand bec. it belonged to the larger ‘Club beach’ which used to be a fish and game club and is now owned by a religious order of nuns. The club house was torn down a few years ago. We pick mushrooms there…out of Matushka’s driveway, right and up the small rise to the left before the Tkachuks. A bientot
This is one of your more beautiful writings. Perhaps it speaks to me because I so many of these thoughts with you!