The Thunderstorm

The thunderstorm rolled across the sky like a symphony of drums.



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The clouds pushed through each other as though racing for a finish line at the far edge of the mountaintops. First one darker and lower was in the lead, then a lighter, airier cloud soared ahead of the pack. they tumbled across, around and through each other speeding towards an imaginary end-post.

Thinking About Montana



Thinking about Montana, whilst driving through Vermont.

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The clouds were racing against the sky, passing the mountains and shimmering over the lake. Wind blew strongly, lifting signposts and newspapers.
pushing little piles of discarded paper-cups into forgotten corners of buildings. The sky became a sea awash with roiling clouds and dust and bits of trees swirling ever upwards and away.

Looking Upward

Walking the dog in the mornings provides an interesting meditation time. Often the world has not et awoken fully.
Light appears through trees in ways that surprise me each morning.

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The Bridge

Traveling from Vermont back to New York State the other evening as the sun set, I was happy to come to the bridge at just this moment with no other autos around.

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