Saturday evening I went to the wedding of a man who sits in my men’s group. We celebrated on the slopes of Haleakala as the sun set, looking across the island to the cloud covered West Maui Mountains, and across the Pacific to the island of Lanai.
On Sunday afternoon we went to a Celebration of Life ceremony for a dear friend who passed away quite suddenly. Many, many family and friends came to share in honour the recently departed, sharing stories of her life late into the night.
The rainbows seem to be making a slow return. This morning one started to appear but then thought better of it. Yesterday morning we were blessed with this rainbow 🌈
I don’t know what is going on here, but I spotted these four characters in a shop window in Lisbon last year.
A wonderful book. If I had to put it down I was always thinking of when I would return to it, wanting to be transported back to the remote islands off the north west coast of Norway, where an old woman cared for Eider ducks and collected their down. Here is a short passage put to animated video (source unknown). 📚
The first morning rainbow since my return. A little morning shower followed by sprinkling of sunshine did the trick. 🌈
🤪 I love to occasionally visit the ever expanding world of Floor796. As of writing this the project is only 53% completed and so much development still to happen. All credit to the author of this project.
There’s a quote that I like, so much so that I wouldn’t be surprised if I have used it elsewhere on my blog. It comes from the book Danziger’s Travels. The quote comes from the closing pages of the book. The author, Nick Danziger, has just returned from an extraordinary 18 month journey across Asia, following the Silk Road. He is sitting in his parents' home in Southern England, writing his book and reflecting on his trip.
No sooner have I spoken than I spied a very faint rainbow this morning. Very faint indeed, but I’m pretty sure that is what is hanging there in the sky. Is this a stretch? I don’t think so. I’ll take it.
Maui was looking very dry when we flew in last week. I caught on the local news yesterday announcements of water restrictions Upcountry. I’m sure that that is not the only place on the island to receive them.
I’m beginning to wonder what has happened to the rainbows since I returned to Maui? I haven’t seen one, and this morning it is raining. The ingredients are there. Perhaps they are taking a summer vacation?
To Infinity and Beyond (mid-Atlantic version, this one taken on the north shore of São Miguel in the Azores).
I learnt to drive in the UK on a manual, stick shift car, and drove manual cars until I was in my forties. Then I moved to the United States and started driving automatic cars (and on the other side of the road).
For the last two and a half months I have been in Europe driving manual cars again. Cost considerations took us down that route when we were looking to lease a car.
I, we (my fellow passengers) are flying at 36,000ft on a flight from New York’s JFK to Honolulu in Hawaii. The flight time is 9 hours and 51 minutes. Add onto that the 3½ hours that we spent on the tarmac at JFK due to a technical problem. We are currently about 3¼ hours into the flight. In that time I have had something to eat, watched a little on the inflight entertainment (never something that I spend much time with), and slept.
Long Island, New York. The weather has been threatening all day. Humidity builds and wanes like waves. Clouds form on top of clouds, their bulky shape a prediction of what is coming - and then they part briefly to reveal blue sky and sun.
But now we are on the home straight.
The light has decreased. The trees are moving more as breeze shifts to wind. Thunder rumbles in the empty canyons of the clouds above us, shaking the ground with it.
Today’s storm might be arriving earlier than forecast.
I can take a lot of photographs, probably more when I am on the move than when I am at home, but I notice that I have a tendency to do little with them. Occasionally I’ll go back and look through them, maybe edit one or two, but otherwise they just sit there.
What might I do with them? Thoughts that come to mind include,
share them with family and friends.
When silence presents itself. When the veil drops and people leave and all around me is still. When all I have is the dead quite of nothing, or the quiet rhythm of the natural world.
When some or all of this happens, my heart feels at home and at rest and asks, “why not more often?”
