It's that time of year to be sure, baled hay everywhere in the eastern Ontario highlands, deer and wild turkeys feeding at dawn, shadows stretching out long skinny fingers across farm fields at the end of the day.
The shadows slanting across pastures grow longer as our days grow shorter, and as if to compensate for waning daylight hours, northern sunsets become intense: deep blue and purple skies, perfect molten light and technicolor clouds. The evening sun flames amazement as it drops below the horizon.
As she reclines in a corner of the western field at sunset, her camera and lens can scarcely take in all the riches on offer. Every sunrise and every sunset dazzles the eyes, and every rising moon is pure gold.
1 comment:
beautiful, like a poem in paragraphs.
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