The sun was going down, I guess it was mostly down because I couldn’t really see it anymore. I hadn’t been paying attention. This time of year is kind of confusing because my body has adjusted to the later sunsets of the summer. There was so much light in the sky, but no sunset — was it time for twilight already?

The whole sky was still light, darkness had not yet begun to creep in. And though I had apparently missed the sunset the sun was not yet through showing off. Before saying Goodnight it had to have one last flaunt, one last “Last word.” Casting it’s rays towards the building clouds of the south, it bid it’s final farewell.

~~~

~~~

“Good night, stay warm, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

~~~

~~~

~~~

Fascinated, my gaze transfixed, I took in the illuminating beauty of the south-southwestern clouds. The warm wind on my face, the light-heat from the billowy cumulus, the salty sweat-smell of the scorching day now ending,.. “Goodnight, sun,… Goodnight.”

~~~

~~~
Happily submitted to Sweet Shot Tuesday at Life With My 3 Boybarians.

Texas Summer Sunset

Sitting in my neighbor’s front yard waiting for the arrival of the dark, the sun boasts it’s last orange rays. Clashing with the approaching indigo, splashes of pinks and purples spread through the sky. Perhaps the sunset looks the same in the middle of winter, perhaps not. Still it seems that sunsets like these scream, “long live summer.”

Sparklers After Dark

Independence Day sparklers paired with the free spirit of a 7 year old in summer, I can nearly smell the warm, night air through the photograph. Like a slightly fuzzy childhood memory, the long-open-shutter softens the edges, freezing this moment in time with a sweet sense of summer youth.

Forgotten but not..

I may have forgotten about the pictures on my camera but the memories linger. And when they fade the photos will hold them for us. These two stood out above the rest, my favorites. My sweet shots.

Sweet Shot Tuesday is hosted by My 3 Boybarians.

Reflection.

I can’t hear that word without breaking into song a la Mulan. (I prefer the movie version over the pop version. I do pretty good if I do say so myself.) The thing about reflections – they only reflect what is there. The interpretation is the variable.

Whether examining your own reflection in a mirror, whether reflecting on the past, whether admiring shiny pretty reflective things, whether reflecting on how well you reflect Christ’s light – the interpretation is open to the examiner. You and I may both observe the same object, and yet we may see completely different things.

I’ve developed something of a habit of sunset photography. It so happens that the dumpster is located next to a stock pond, and while carrying up the trash one evening, I noticed the reflection of the sunset on the water. The angle of the sun behind the trees was just right so that the junipers glowed as if on fire. The fiery trees and the orange sky melting into blue could all be seen in the pond reflection. Of course, I went back home to get my camera.

But after snapping a few sunset pictures and pond pictures, the photo shoot soon turned into a photography session for one young tree, growing in the middle of the pond, reflected on the water.

Where you see a tree, I see a tree that makes me think of my mom and my daughter, a tree that I want to grow in my back yard, to sit and listen to on breezy days.

My mom and dad had a tree like this on their property here. Like a sentinel it stood at the entrance to their long driveway, and many years ago my oldest daughter (when she was but a toddler) dubbed it “the rain tree.” Why? Because if you stand and listen to the leaves blowing gently in the breeze, it sounds like a soft rain.

And it does.

I think perhaps, though I am not certain, that this is called a Quaking Aspen. I’m not quite convinced I’ve identified it correctly – I find conflicting information about whether or not they’re supposed to grow this far south. I do know that there are two or three trees like this on the piece of property to the right of us. And there are two or three baby trees in the pond to the left of us. But there are no “rain trees” on the piece of property we live on and hope to buy some day soon.

I admit, the thought has crossed my mind to ask if I can dig up a baby rain tree right now while the pond is dry and transplant it. Or perhaps I can just identify it and purchase a few big enough to make noise, so that I can sit in my yard and listen to the “rain” and feel close to my mom – even when she’s hours away.

I still have a little while before I can even start planning and planting my currently non-existent back yard. But one thing I already know, one way or another, it’s going to have a “rain tree” in it. (By purchase or by shovel.)

This week’s Popinjay photo prompt was “reflective.” Head over to Michele’s – who is hosting for Michelle this week. (And next week it will be my turn, for the word “savvy.” A word I’m not sure has ever been used to describe me for pretty much anything. So it should be quite interesting. =P )

Sunset:

Drama Queen took these pictures on my camera the other day at sunset/dusk. I added the vignettes. (And this in only about a fourth of all the pics she took. Like mother like daughter.) ;0)

A ordinary trash run to the dumpster turned into an impromptu photo opp and experiment.

Using the "sunset" option, it pulls out the reds and purples.

Using the "outdoor" setting, it seems to magnify the blues.

Playing with reflections.. know what that is?

{Getting these shots was a real challenge, battling high winds and approaching darkness!}

Wordless Wednesday is hosted by 5 Minutes for Mom.

This post is happily submitted to Wordless Wednesday and “My Yard – Photo MckLinky.”