Beyond the Pale
I'm having that cold November dream nightly and thinking that it would be nice to have a warm November tropical dream instead. It's been quite a while, but I think that way lies longer life and happier-ness. It's always amazing to me how over one month in the northeast things go from warm to wintry. James Wainwright is really, really talented. These and other images I've seen (especially one featuring a sihouetted balloon) are haunting. Curtis
Lovely... as if from an old back porch... biting wind and quick-passing clouds.
Thanks, guys.About the top image, here's what the photographer says:"All the right conditions came together without very much effort on my part. For me there is a lot of symbolism in this image. On an outer level it represents a place called Isipatana. This is a Pali word which means 'the place where holy men fell to earth' -- and is also the Pali Canon name for the place where the Buddha first gave his teachings. This is known more widely as Deer Park, which is in Sarnath, India."The full moon proved to be the harbinger of the first big storm of the season, here. Wet and wild and a bit of a challenge for the ancient and unenlightened pilgrim.
I love the humanness of that moon, the pouty cheek.
The word suspension always takes me back to high school chemistry class. Like sea salt or soot in the air. It is amazing how November is its own beast, completely distinct from golden harvesty autumn and full-on wintry winter. Out on the water, we're plugging leaks we thought we'd fixed and enjoying the sound of the rain on the windows.
I keep coming back to this and am fascinated by the story behind the photos. Last night's moon here and the light was a lot like the Deer Park moon. It was so bright, though, that it showed the colors of the trees and surroundings, which made it different. I always think of India "in color," but I guess that is just a result of conditioning, of always seeing the same kinds of things included in photos of India. Curtis
Well, Duncan, I suppose it's my own poutiness made the moon have a pouty cheek... and these few notebook jottings into something like a poem.Nora,"...enjoying the sound of the rain on the windows" made me think of one of my favorite rain songs:Ann Peebles: I Can't Stand the Rain (1974)Curtis, know what you mean... on the other hand, I always think of India in black and white when I've been watching Satyajit Ray movies.
And before that rain lets up...Ann Peebles: I Can't Stand the Rain (Rare unplugged)
That is a fantastic rain song.
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