mind travel

Not long ago, when the moon was just a crescent sliver in the western sky, I was out in the back yard wishing on a falling star (ends up it was a satellite), when I realized that I had not put in adequate time at my favorite lake in the Uinta mountains, called Hidden Lake, and for those of you that know I’m bluffing,  I’m calling it Decoy Lake. Nonetheless and while I was further reflecting on my last trip there, the memory of the cool crisp pine scented breeze blowing across my sun warmed scalp while standing there on the edge of the lake, its ripples, so intensely reflecting the setting sunlight that it appeared like suspended diamonds, and to the lens of my camera, magical accents of bokeh, I could not remember my password. Talk about an escape!

Bokeh life.

Her reading began instantly and subtley as a cozy spot in the sun was procured.

When suddenly and magically they appeared; just a short distance away, as if summoned simply by thought, as her reading took her into a world of fantasy and fiction, small yet brillant glimmers of light, or was it "life".

For the most part, in the beginning, except for one, they kept their distance. They, the "life" were seemingly sensitive to motion and sound, or perhaps just a break in concentration on the part of the reader.

Further stealing herself from her surroundings reading deeper into the pages of her book these small life like glimmers drew closer and more brilliant as if to assist her, the reader, into deeper more realistic realms of her story.

The plot thickens, the story line intensifies, the characters taking on personalities and traits that she, the reader, can so intimately relate to, the events growing more realistic,

...closing the gap of time lines of hundreds of years, creating a strong sense of time travel.

My presence is again noticed, the distraction pulls her back, momentarily, to my world.

But not completely, as observed by a single glimmer of light spilling out from the pages of her book.

The End ...or is it?

Tissues

This VIB is dedicated to my sweet granddaughter,

Madison.

It's also dedicated to her awesome parents whom I also miss just not as much, kiddin.

It is further dedicated to all of those mushy grandparents who are separated from their grandchildren.

Presenting ... "Tissues" ...from a grandpa that nose how to use them.

If you've not seen my blog "Two Shoes" you'll want to go back in time and catch it.

(pronunciation twoshoes = tissues)

One Time I Saw Morning Come Home

Flowers gather in a meadow as if to worship the rising Sun. They know the Light from whom they gain life giving warmth.

With the passing of the darkness of night, the dews distill upon the surrounding blades of grass. Similiar in commotion to the gathering of instruments in an orchestra.

The night frosts retreat.

With everyone in place and as if in a demonstration of love and an expression of gratitude, the flowers spead their petals, reaching heavenward, giving themselves to the light. While surrounding dew drops, as though fans in a great colliseum, unaware of their own beauty, they themselves reflecting the Light, witness the beauty of the flowers. All this during the return of morning.

On this day, in the simplest unadvertised way, I saw morning come home.

Photos and text by Quinn

My title
"One Time I Saw Morning Come Home"
Comes from a book by Clair Huffaker, a relative.