Friday:
Friday afternoon as we were traveling down the road
a very large rainbow is seen to our right (our eastern view).
It dropped down into the rolling green hills to the north and lift up into the rolling black and gray skies.
What surprised us was the width and the vivid colors in the reflections and refraction of light.
To our west blue skies were breaking through the lighter clouds.
Sunday:
The sounds of the early mornings are the sounds of silence. This is a peaceful time;
the sun has not come around; it is just rising in the east. It is quiet out here;
I hear a distant movement of engines on the paved road a half mile away.
It is a morning sound; it is there with the crickets that hide in the earth's crevasses and the morning dove that sits on that wire.
Birds and crickets create the sounds of this mornings silence.
The grass is wet. The morning is warm and comfortable.
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This morning I felt like a cold blade that is just under the sheath of leather. We know that the leather is alive and hinted of warmth so long ago. But just under the thick hide there is a coldness. A coldness that is felt with whoever is close by.
It is strange that I feel the warmth of the day and see the glory of life but deep under the skin there is a cold layer that is harsh and abrasive. How is that possible? It is one of those paradoxes, one of those things that only the unknown knows about.
It is a constant part of me that always needs refining. It slides in so quietly, just the opposite of a snake.
They shed their skin. I hold onto mine.
Gollum is learning the meaning of ....
badaba
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Tomas