Thunder storm in Flagstaff

Last night I decided to take a short cut into Nevada to try to reduce the time spent driving in excessive heat.  So I left at 3:15 AM and drove east in the dark in the general direction of Orion’s belt. The ploy was successful — except, I think, in the tiny minds of nocturnal mice in the  luminated last seconds of their little lives.  (Sorry, Mice)  Then, as the sun rose, there were the rabbits.  Then there were the signs warning about deer…and Bulls…But I digress.

Too little sleep for two nights makes for dangerous driving, so I abbreviated my plans and got off the road.  I was going to try camping again, but those ominous blue-grey clouds over the San Francisco mountains changed my mind.  One cloud like a white flag flew from the tip of the tallest, sharpest peak, as though it were caught there.  So, I found a cheap motel and began working on the blog.

Funny how a blog can change your thinking.  You begin to describe your experience to yourself instead of experiencing it.  Kind of like how your photography practice will define how you see the world.

Anyway, a rowdy thunderstorm with hail and buckets of rain clattered loose.  Luckily I was indoors in front of the flat light bulb, and glad to not be camping.  Later, when I looked up I saw this outside my window:

clouds after the storm
clouds after the storm

When I looked up again, seemingly milliseconds later, I saw this:

more clouds after the storm
Sunset clouds after the storm

Part of me wants to say, “Why did you take that picture?  Is it art?  Why not just LOOK?”  Part of me remembers reading somewhere that one should not write poetry about that which  already is poetry.

But the greatest part of me is agog with the marvel of being alive and a part of this planet.

By jandove


1 comment

  1. Ahhhhhhh. Watch that philosophising, gets artists in trouble, and keep looking through the viewfinder. And, that last sentence gets pretty close to writing prose about that which is already prose-like poetry. Once a teacher, always a teacher.


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