My weekend has been full of delightful Holiday events, crammed school projects, Cheery gift giving, and wonderous photo sessions I’ve enjoyed very much.

But, out of all the Holiday spirit and a ‘photographer’s high,’ I found myself in awe of a sky so glorious, one could only compare it to a valuable painting. I found my eyes lulling as I saw the clouds swirl. I was bewitched, the sky at sunset caught my fancy. The rich, colorful velveteen  sky as warm as a firey kettle, colors flying about. The clouds resembling cotton candy, with their fluff and sugar coated selves. The sky striking like lighting in bolts of orange, the painter’s brush toying with the canvas in such a way. How could I not but ask my mother to stop?

I gripped my camera tightly, finding the evening air greeting my face in a chilly embrace. The pond that became the subject of my photograph was a work of art itself. The sky’s colors reflecting like a mirror in the pond, narcissistic in it’s own image.  I could not help but find such a sky to be a grand affair. I snapped my pictures slowly, for my eyes could not leave the viewpoint without a set of eyes to see.

After the experience, I found myself wanting to tell someone about it. A loud anoucement, followed by trumpets and horns and a splendorious evening dedicated to the moment. A silent whisper ever so gently appearing in someone’s ear. Alas,  I calmed down in a swift breath in which I felt my eyes begin to close once more.

I rested with the fact that an evening so glorious, so wonderous, so perfectly pleasurable would stay with me forever, and that in the night my dream’s landscape would be that awe-catching sky that delighted me so.