Briefly in a heavily overcast day, the clouds variously parted and, with the haze of cold snow in the air, put on quite a lovely show of shadows and light.
I admire the snow’s balance.
I still find it beautiful, too, this lovely frozen world.
A slight break in the heavy overcast at dusk, a slight wind in the upper branches.
Rain had fallen intermittently all day, but the day had been steadily dark and cold even without falling rain. But as often happens on long rainy days, the clouds broke at about sunset to give a view of faded blue sky trimmed along the edges with heavy clouds, offering reflected light but no direct sunlight. Suddenly the autumn leaves shone again even in the cooler light. I carefully watched the light, deciding that when my errand was done, or as soon as I could, whichever came first, I’d head for my favorite ridge to photograph what there was of the sunset, hoping for lots of red from the humidity in the air and sunrays from the layers of clouds breaking up, but I’d take what I could get.
No such dramatics were in the plan for this evening, but watching the valley settle into night as I watched the clouds march steadily from the north, hearing only the wind as it swept from far beyond the horizon across my face, tugging at my hair and skirt on the hilltop where I stood, one tiny dot of a figure in this complicated and beautiful landscape, chilling my fingers with the first real cold of winter in its direct and determined path. In the center is Carnegie, somewhere in there is my house, and all of the familiar streets and scenes of my days reduced to a few amorphous blots of color, light and shadow.
In just minutes the north wind had carried the cloud cover over the valley once again like a blanket, leaving the valley in deep shadow but for the dots of light collected in the velvet darkness, small shreds of red showing through at the horizon; the sun has not given over yet, there is still some fire in its day.
On a very dark day, each drop of rain left on the grass captures the glow of the overcast sky. I am looking at the grass, but the grass is looking at the sky.
Mist rises from the valleys, tinged pink with early sunset, after a thunderstorm rolled through in early evening.
Sometimes I find photos in the least expected places. This was at the top of an overgrown hill which had been graded to build a shopping center, to the left is Costco and right behind me is a huge parking lot and three-level mall. But I’d rather look at this.
So when you’re a teenager and school just let out and it’s a hot afternoon and there’s a storm and it suddenly starts to rain like hell, what do you do? Run, of course! Run up the hill, just because it feels good! Laugh with your friends! It’s summer, and you’re free! Your whole life is ahead of you!
Some of my kid friends around the neighborhood when the storm hit. I remember days like that. This is from last year, but there’s a storm brewing out there right now, one of those big crashing nightmares that breaks the heat spell.
There have been storms all around me, but not more than a few drops in my back yard. As I photographed this, big raindrops were falling here and there and it grew darker and darker and windy, but nothing came of it.