Back in business here after the big server mess yesterday. A post on simple moments to celebrate. Nice to have the blog back, and what do you think of the new colors? (Muchas gracias to HB, once again, for not getting too aggravated with me over messing things up by accident.)
Simple moment #1: A sunset last night painted by Gauguin. I had no camera with me to photograph it, but as words are my paints, let me try to describe it for you. We’re in monsoon season here in Colorado, which means I had to wait for the thunderstorms to pass to get out for a long walk. Which meant the earth was wet and the air soft and I was already blissed out after an hour of walking through the quiet post-supper summer streets. Cello by Marin Marais in my ear as the show began, deep and sweetly melancholy.
First, you must know that the canvas of this sky is enormous. Vast. I walked along the top of a hill edging fields and homes, the horizon lines between twenty and maybe up to fifty miles away in every direction, one of them the clouded tops of the Front Range, burly and dark blue and unremarkable in contrast to the sky.
A canvas now billowing with the remnants of a thunderstorm, thick cottony clouds, breaking up to show sky and a half-moon as shiny white as a light bulb. As the sun moved, the clouds colored. And colored and colored, a thousand shades of opal–pink and peach and salmon and eggplant and palest blue and wafts of white. In my ear, Vivaldi began to play, and I stood there, laughing in amazement, trying to think of how to describe the clouds, how to find words to paint it for others. To the south, that bank looked like a cluster of Ruben’s bodies, breasts and bellies and thighs all crowded together, flamingo pink and blushy orange. But words cannot do it justice. Cannot. Somethings you are just meant to see and experience. I wish you a sunset of that magnitude someday soon.
Simple moments #2 & 3
Dogs. Who are very good at savoring.