Currently viewing the tag: "summer"

The artist is a receptacle for emotions that come from all over the place: from the sky, from the earth, from a scrap of paper, from a passing shape, from a spider’s web.
– Pablo Piccaso

Web in the Fog

Photo by Jonmikel.

Webs in the Fog

Photo by Jonmikel.

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Day 207 / 07.26.11

The days are long and hot and dry, and summer stretches on into October.

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We go for a drive on the country roads of rural Wyoming, trying to find a bit of cool.

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What do you do as the last days of summer vacation come to a close? Find a field of corn and flowers?

Day 208 / 07.27.11

Or find a backyard and a tire swing and a sunset and spin and spin until you can’t even stand anymore?

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In the high deserts of the West, there is always that one rain in early summer, and you can smell it coming.

Heavy Rain

The whole air changes, and instead of the scents of dust and livestock, you smell a heavy musk, a brooding moisture spilling from the peaks of the mountains.

Heavy Rain

The winds pick up, and the rustle of the cottonwoods alerts you to the coming torrents.

Heavy Rain

And you can see it coming. It stampedes down the valleys, the shards of rain creating an opaque fog that consumed the mountains, the homes, the road.

Heavy Rain

You make it to the threshold of your home just in time, as the fat drops of waters begin their assault on the parched ground.

Heavy Rain

And it’s a copious flood, tumbling down from the bruised sky and quickly saturating the shallow soil and beginning to build up as a flowing river from the driveway into the thirsty grasses beyond.

Heavy Rain

You can see your snow peas and your peppers and your sunflowers perk up in anticipation of the waters, and as the puddles turn to ponds, you revel in the cool, damp air.

Heavy Rain

And you know, just know, that this will be the last rain of the summer.

Day 199 / 07.18.11

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