sunrise, sunset

while there isn't much in the way of sunrise in this picture, it is a chinese pistachio my beloved bought for me and we planted in the front yard. about seven years ago. it's a wee thing, still. (i noticed this picture is taken at about the same angle north, as the sunset picture. curious.)

the horizon line is what i was going for here. i would sit out on the porch in the mornings and watch the sunrise. coffee in hand, it would be pitch black out in the country where we lived, and not a light on the horizon. then slowly it would pink up. earth would creak like floorboards, the birds would rustle and call. roosters sound. cows drone in.

i became accustomed, too accustomed (apparently), to this view. this silence. this slice of life where it moved at a slow, steady pace.

this shot is the sunset out the back porch. the sun was high in the north at this point. it was early summer. the sun had not yet begun it's sojourn south down the horizon line. there were no houses obscuring views. little development. who knows what will be there when we return. if we return.

the thing i noticed about being here in the foothills, is i am visually hemmed in. the sun just appears over the trees sometime around ten and disappears behind trees sometime around four.

we went to a party on fourth of july and the man owned a great deal of property. he hadn't planted trees everywhere, but had a lake, and my eyes were able to roam the fields. i found great comfort in this visual freedom as i called it. for once, my eyes weren't locking into examination, but were able to roam. it had been so long since i'd been able to look across a plain of any size.

when we drive through the desert of new mexico, or the flatlands of texas, i always like to look. to pay attention if it is a road we've not ventured down before. there is so much to see. i like to examine it all. i like the oppenness. here, i get carsick if i look out the windows too much or try to read. that never happened in texas and it is strange to me. but fosters communication, which is a good thing.

i have never felt locked in visually, until now. growing up in so. cal, it's all buildings and developed. i never realized what i'd miss when i left texas. but then, you can never realize what you've got until it's gone.