Last night, we took the dogs and walked up the loop road. It rained in the afternoon, so everything was fresh and on-the-verge of stormy. That is my favorite situation out here: heavy clouds and the sweet light that comes at that golden hour of sunrise or sunset and turns everything a crisp, buttery yellow.
Jeremy took the dogs back early, so I kept going.
The walk ended in the dying light, my only company the crumpled and battered beer cans left stuck in the dried, cracked mud by all the recent water-flow in the ditches and washes along the loop road. There’s something about walking at dusk and seeing everything around you grow darker and darker than makes you want to stand still and let the wind blow around you till you’re nothing – like you could almost fall asleep standing there in the middle of the road, while the fading sun turns the gravel stones at your feet peach to pink to silver to blue.
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