Saturday, July 24, 2010

Sometimes when I babysit the little ones, we visit far away exotic places, like China and Hawaii. We fly or take a cruise ship (with live music and magic shows every night), and then walk the great wall of China, hike up volcanoes, go to the beach, eat with chopsticks, and consume too much pineapple. It's great fun. I love kids' imaginations.

Last night when I was driving home from Kitchener, the sky was beautiful. The sun was getting close to setting, and it made everything else beautiful. It was overcast, except for in the west where the sun was shining brightly in an eerie yellow-green, and it cast the landscape in the most surreal glow. One side of the highway was all in shadows, but the trees up the other side were lit up in this strange greenish light, the spaces between in the forest in deep shadow. It made me want to pull over and go explore those lovely trees, but I kept driving. The farms and fields were all varying shades of yellow-green, light and shadow, all against a backdrop of gray-green clouds. It was hot and humid and I had the windows open and I listened to 'Trouble' on repeat, which didn't really suit the evening, but I didn't care.

I enjoy my drive to work in the mornings. When it's hazy and misty and everything is early morning golden lovely and the sun glares off the crack in my windshield. I've been able to watch the fields evolve throughout the summer and watch the crops grow. They're beautiful.

Yesterday, my drive to work was through a river. I had my wipers on the highest speed, and I could still barely see. The cars created great sprays of water like the parting of the Red Sea, and I felt like my car might float away in a few spots. Upon arrival at work, I put my pashmina over my head, took off my shoes and ran barefoot across the parking lot, through what felt like ankle-deep water. Later when I was cold at my desk, I couldn't wrap myself in my pashmina because it was still wet. But at least my shoes were dry.