I left work a little early today, since I worked 14 hours on Thursday and all day Saturday. But did I get home early? Not really. I came home pretty close to the usual time, and dripping wet. Feet covered in mud, pants soaked up to my knees. Why? Because… I stopped to take pictures. Rain pouring down, cars driving past at 50 miles an hour, umbrella blown inside out, and muddy water running over my feet, which were shod only in flip-flops, in the manner of a true Californian.
Rainbows and barbed wire. One lone tree, surrounded by mist and rain. Rivulets of water, running between blades of green grass, reflecting the light of a distant sun. It’s hard to express the magic of this afternoon. I wish you could have been in the car with me, listening to the music of (the incomparable) Joe Hisaishi, stomping through the mud, feeling the rain drip off your face. As it is, all I can give you is these photos, and I’m sorry about that… it’s not quite the same.
A comment or two would make my day.