Yanno...the rising sun feels different in the morning sky....mayhap has been for a few days now but I have failed to previously note it. I HAVE, howsumever, noticed the sunsets slightly altered in hue the last 2 nights that they could be seen. Whether the heat recedes or no the impending change of season is in the light and burgeoning restlessness creeping into my soul.
From my east facing window I can note the change in angle as the seasons rotate back and forth. Amazing how a few degrees make such a difference in the way the shadows play across the opposing wall. Not unlike the subtle changes that take place within each of us on this path that modifies the way we view not only the world at large, but ourselves as well. And, the seasonal beginnings and endings do not necessarily agree with man's calendar but follow their own course...as do we.
The rising sun hits the new arbor at the corner now rather than more towards center. Perhaps a sort of symbolism of my own slightly off center feelings in recent days.
Morning ambers skiddle across the leaves turning them a mellower shade of green and highlighting the Morning Glories in Rose’s Garden in muted golden tones rather than the usual rose-gold of mid-summer. The light shimmers altered through the dew that covers everything on my trek outdoors to photograph my perceived camera obscura view.
Dunno why I decided to remark on that this morning. Perhaps it's the subtle itching in my head and bones that something feels afoot. Restlessness, perhaps. Despite my attachment to home there are times itchy feet and the gypsy longing to wander come out. This, I think, is a genetic gift/curse from Dad and goes far to explain my father's need to move even after his stint with that traveling troupe known as the Army was done with him.
And, yet the dichotomy is that I have planted myself on this particular little plot for over 30 years. Roots. Someplace solid once the thirst for adventure has been quenched for a time.
Roots are good...my children have them. I never had them as a child…roots. By the time I’d taken hold somewhere we were gone again…even after Dad left the military. Outwardly confident, melting into the framework quickly; while inwardly feeling out of step and fearing I’d be found out as a fraud.
Despite my urge to roam I need them...roots…solid…grounding...safe...faithfully awaiting the return of this seasonal and, oft times, only imaginary wanderer.
I don’t know the point of this ruminating. It was in my head. Crazy stuff up there sometimes. Which leads me to a thought for another day….
(All photos poperty of Outlaw Photography)
If you gets them itchy feet again come on up to my place for a while. We'll put you up ( as long as you can share yer bed with the mutt) and even feed ya some grubb now ~n~ then. Then while yer here maybe yooze guys can do some buildin' on my back deck like you have on the front of yer place.
ReplyDeleteMan! I love that!