The Subtle Sun

The weather this week has been exceedingly kind. Like floating in a breezy dream. 

Being Texan, I know to count any weather blessings while they last.

Eclipse of The Wolf Moon

The 20th of January. The fabled super blood wolf moon was rising in the east. Meanwhile, the western sky was demanding its share of the attention. "Beat this, moon" it said.

After nightfall, we lay in the grass, shivering. The kids squabbled, the cats pounced. Finally, deprived of its reflected light, the moon revealed its true nature, that of an exquisitely round rock spinning in the sky.

The year has been good to us so far. Knock on wood and fingers crossed that things continue to get better.

Last Splash

I was hoping 2018 would provide one last lovely sunset before it was over, and happily, my wish was granted. Now if only 2019 will be so lucky...

(Also, 90 posts in 2018, how awesome is that! I never thought I'd be able to post that often, and fingers crossed that my energy level will let me keep up this pace. )

Winter On The Edge Of Town

It's a day late owing to computer problems, but happy solstice to all.

Certainly, it's been an uncharacteristically sunny week for it. The clouds have only been rolling in at twilight, leading to some especially colorful skies.

At 4:23 PM, I was sitting with my little ceremonial fire (as you do) quietly waiting for a sign of what to expect in the coming season. I was just wondering if one would come when a crane flew over. At the same time, another bird dropped a heap of juniper berries on my head. A happy confluence of events.

It may seem strange, predicting good fortune at a time when the country seems to have gone mad and life expectancy is dropping (these things are not unconnected, IMO) but you see, I am determined to survive.

Someone once told me that so many people give up upon reaching an obstacle that by just refusing to quit, you end up much further ahead than you realize. This is my game plan. I am not strong, nor particularly stable, but I am exceptionally stubborn.

In that spirit, today I dragged myself from the haze of migraine and fibromyalgia torment to buy gifts for my children. My reward (aside from making the children happy, of course) was being there to see the winter sunset, this swirling configuration on the edge of town.

These moments pass, yes, but for me, the moment is enough, and for that I am extremely grateful. You forget pain, eventually, but transcendent moments can stay with you forever.

Here's wishing all of us a transcendent winter holiday.

Candy-Colored Carnival

As per local tradition, on the heels of the harvest moon comes the carnival. Aliens seemed to be a theme this year. You know times are tough when people are volunteering to be abducted.

 Glittering neon gears competed with the brilliant sky.

And while we weren't quite lost in the funhouse...

 ...we were quite lost in the mirror maze.

We had corn dogs and funnel cake, and bought a space hopper for the youngin. And then at last we walked back, through the dark streets, past the silent school and the glowing lamps and the dry leaves skidding along the pavement.

And with that we mark another ritual of the turning of the year.

Twilight Rainbow

Summer twilight, after a storm.

Sommersonnenwende

The day of the summer solstice.

Candy-Colored Sky

Misperception can be a funny thing. Under the right conditions, it can even be charming. 

When I dashed out the front door the other evening, I was taken aback by the violet sunset lighting up the sky. What was even more surprising was the scent. A sweet, delicious smell hung over everything. It smelled just like the sky looked - like candy.

What I'd momentarily forgotten were the masses of  pink jasmine growing around the corner of the house.

 For just a split second, it had seemed like the sky had a scent. 

As misperceptions go, it was quite a lovely one.

One  evening, just after moonrise, the neighbors lit a bonfire.

The Geometry Of Fast Food

The Last Of February

Another Blurry Sunset

Well, it was cold, my hands were shaking and there was little light. What do you expect? :p

That's the steeple of the church that doesn't want to be photographed over there on the left. It's learning a bit, because it won't cooperate even when it's in the photo incidentally.