That sky.

I hustle and bustle as soon as my pickup is parked on the little slab of cement in front of our back (front) door.  As the ignition is turned to off, I look for my cell phone, empty lunch pail and the canvas {Be Awesome Today} bag that it lives in during the work day, tucked next to my hard drive and other bills that need paid.  I scoop groceries and a stack of mail and make my way in.

Yes, our back door is our front door....maybe you live the same way?

The mail gets set on the kitchen counter....sorted into two stacks, one for me and one for my husband.  I drop his stack on his laptop so that I know he'll have a chance to see it.  Independence breeds {his} and {hers} and for us - it works.  I try to not disturb the balance.  Groceries get put away, but not before I give my husband a kiss hello.  Dinner is started, the dogs are petted and greeted and a load of laundry gets thrown in. 

It's when I go outside to start the sprinkler that it hits me.  In the few short minutes I've been home, the sky's changed and is begging me to grab my camera.  I know as I head to the pickup, to pull it out of it's case in the back seat, that I won't be able to capture it expertly.

But I don't care.

It's beautiful and the light from the setting sun is bouncing off the row of trailers and alleyway and panels lined up in the driveway awaiting their next work assignment.  It speaks to me.  I click frames and review images on the backside of the camera and go to clicking some more.  A lens change, wider views and a few more clicks happen before the camera gets stashed, the sprinkler gets started, and life keeps rolling on.

It was a few days before I removed the card from the camera and looked on the full screen to see what I'd captured.  It's not as deep, or as texturized, or as powerful as I'd seen it in person.

But I still don't care. 

It's a memory logged, and now - a memory shared.


Life doesn't have to be perfect to be remembered well.

What unexpected beauty have you found today?


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