Just when I expect spacious, I end up in a tight spot. Take Saturday. The funeral for my friend and mentor, Grahame Butler-Nixon, went well. The bishop's liturgical presence was to my mind lovely and tender. The homily, written and rewritten and written again, seemed to hit the right note. And, spending time during the luncheon with people I met right out of seminary in 1992 was simply wonderful.
I expected to get home Saturday afternoon and begin catching up the tasks I'd let slide while I sermonized through the week. Instead, I arrived home, brought in my book bag and vestments from the car and simply couldn't function. All I could seem to do was sit and stare, though, blessedly I was sent home with a plate of delicious food, so a late lunch/early supper for Tal was within my grasp. So, the potential for spacious -- and productive -- went unrealized.
Sunday was better and today better still. In fact, today was marked by dramatic bookends. During breakfast a Red-tailed hawk lit on the birdfeeder crook just outside our kitchen window. We were agape. Reach for the camera or just watch in wonder? Well, let's just say I have no photographic documentation to prove its stunning presence. When it lifted off, we were cloaked in silence and awe for some minutes.
Then, this afternoon ... oh, this afternoon. Our weather went from the morning's bright sun and windy to brooding and ominous during the afternoon, the low, slanting sun turning everything golden.
With daylight fading so fast, I went out with the camera and found myself in a tight spot once again, a tight spot of a different sort. Our neighborhood is closely built, so it's almost impossible to get a shot without rooflines, garages, vehicles. I have mentioned that before, I think. (Translate: complained) Add to that having to work fast.
But, I think these two photographs capture something of the late afternoon's drama, despite the neighborhood's tight spaces.
I expected to get home Saturday afternoon and begin catching up the tasks I'd let slide while I sermonized through the week. Instead, I arrived home, brought in my book bag and vestments from the car and simply couldn't function. All I could seem to do was sit and stare, though, blessedly I was sent home with a plate of delicious food, so a late lunch/early supper for Tal was within my grasp. So, the potential for spacious -- and productive -- went unrealized.
Sunday was better and today better still. In fact, today was marked by dramatic bookends. During breakfast a Red-tailed hawk lit on the birdfeeder crook just outside our kitchen window. We were agape. Reach for the camera or just watch in wonder? Well, let's just say I have no photographic documentation to prove its stunning presence. When it lifted off, we were cloaked in silence and awe for some minutes.
Then, this afternoon ... oh, this afternoon. Our weather went from the morning's bright sun and windy to brooding and ominous during the afternoon, the low, slanting sun turning everything golden.
With daylight fading so fast, I went out with the camera and found myself in a tight spot once again, a tight spot of a different sort. Our neighborhood is closely built, so it's almost impossible to get a shot without rooflines, garages, vehicles. I have mentioned that before, I think. (Translate: complained) Add to that having to work fast.
But, I think these two photographs capture something of the late afternoon's drama, despite the neighborhood's tight spaces.
This is looking west from the front yard with the lens lifted above the rooflines of the patio homes along our street. I like the framing provided by the river birch limbs overhead and the distant trees below.
This golden view is looking northwest, the leafless trees reflecting the setting sun. I am glad the power lines -- almost impossible to avoid -- are not as illuminated as the trees.
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