Start of sunset last night reminded me why these mountains are called, in Spanish, the Sangre de Cristos (Blood of Christ). This phenomenon occurs on the eastern peaks often and during all seasons. It lasts for brief seconds and is easy to miss. This one suddenly suffused my kitchen with pink light and I stepped outside to see it. Seconds after taking the picture the pink was gone, the peaks in shadow and the sunset continued on it's regular journey west.
We celebrate summer solstice with a touch of voluptuousness setting in at last. Poppies in the park
Yucca bells in my yard - a favorite of bees until they disappeared a couple of years ago
Fleecy white against deep blue - hammock time (except we don't have two trees from which to hang it).
The weather is comfortably cool - 70s for several days - nice! But very very dry. Signs in national forest areas are pointing at dangerous fire hazard levels. We keep our fingers crossed that nature with her lightening bolts or a
stupid unthinking camper won't spark a fire. Small would quickly become large as afternoon winds are still strong.
As I walked in the park with Spike, he led me into a shady stand of trees that shut out the sun. It was gloomy in there until I spotted this rug hanging just behind the fence in someone's backyard.
can you hear summer?
wind's noisy voice softened now
shushing wave echoes
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