Project 365 d-171

     Covered from head to toe in dirt and sweat; I stood as straight as I could, and looked with a smile at what my hands had accomplished. My whole body ached starting with my toes and the pain rolled like Tsunami waves all the way up to the back of my neck. It hurt to blink, to breath, to think. Still, the landscape at the front of my home had been bent a little more toward submission. My will was being done though slowly and painfully. It has been so wet that many days have slipped by without even the turn of a shovel. Today was mostly sunny with the kind of clouds that make for great sunsets. It felt good to be in this kind of pain knowing that my sweat was traded for something worthwhile. Something that made me feel good to look at, and would bring joy to others as well.

     There was a new pain that I began feeling upon the realization that the day was almost gone and I had nothing to show for my project. The cupboard was bare, and I loathed the idea of having to go out tonight to photograph. My tired old bones wanted a shower and a soft bed knowing that sleep would immediately pounce on me once I was drowned among the soft sheets. The searing and gnawing feeling was in my stomach and the only way I knew to ease it was to get my camera. Funny how just holding it in my hands makes me feel better. That soft molded grip easily accommodates my hand and it becomes an extension of me. An extension of my soul, so that I may farm images with my eye.

     The sky behind me was exploding as I walked back from my studio toward the front of my home. It was ablaze behind the silhouetted trees determined to stay alive as long as it could, but accepting that its death was necessary to bring about this explosion of color. "Thank you God," I quietly said as I stood alone in my driveway. "Not only for sparing me from having to leave my home tonight to photograph, but mostly because even in the final moments of this given day you are still at work." For this is not all just some benign process set in motion by an aloof God. It is the work of an Artist that is never without his brush. A loving Creator who could just as well order our days and be done, but instead insists on working late in hopes that we will notice. "I noticed Lord." I whispered with a quivering lip. My senses tingled as I pointed my camera toward his sky and squeezed the shutter many times. I never heard him say "You're welcome." and I didn't need too. It was written across the sky.




Happy Shooting.