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Last night.
Driving home through the dead of a cold winter's night under a full moon and everything is bright.
The sky is crystal clear, blown clean after days of storm clouds and decorated with those stars bright enough to stand out with that intensely glowing moon.
There's no one else on the road. There's a thick wall of trees on both sides. And the road just hit a straight stretch that goes on for miles.
That full moon hangs perfectly over the center of the smooth, pale road ahead, casting everything from the street to the trees to the grass in shades of silver and shadow. For a while, the whole world seems ghostly and dreamlike.
And Florence + The Machines' "Strangeness and Charm" just started in the playlist.
I wish I had a longer drive home sometimes.
Drawing something out of random lines and having it come out much better than the stuff you normally draw.
Does this count?
Sounds beautiful.
I hope you didn't type that when you drove. ;P
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Walking in to work yesterday. I had to go in about an hour early, so when I left for the two-mile walk, the sun was just rising.
Part of my commute is a foot bridge that spans a gorge that's about 400 feet wide and about 100 feet deep. The land below in the creek bed is a designated natural area-- mostly dominated by the creek itself, as it's wide and shallow, with two little waterfalls. The banks of the creek are dominated by huge, old trees: Sycamore, sugar maple, white oak. With the steep cliffs of the gorge, that area is almost an old-growth forest-- at least 150 years old. Several trees tower past the span of the bridge. All the trees were bare, and I could see the forest floor from where I stool. A gigantic column of ice stretched from a storm drain exiting from a brick vent all the WA to the bottom, like a crystalline stalagmite.
We'd had overcast skies for the past several weeks, but this morning the skies were perfectly clear. The temperature was bitter cold (-5F), but there was no wind. The sky was turning from white to gold to blue as the sun rose. I glanced down at the frozen creek below, and saw a red fox scamper across the snow-covered ice. Those are rare in the city, and I savored the contrast of its red-orange fur against the stark white of the snow.