The storm cloud moves in so fast that the sun is still bright to the west. When the rain starts, I head out to the deck and stand under the eave. The drops are huge, flashing light against the heavy leaves of the black walnuts. The big cloud is dramatic. Then the rainbow, faint at…
At dusk the hillsides that surround the harbor fade into background. I walk along the water as lights come on down the long piers and around the crescent of shops and stands. The reflections go deep into the sea, maybe deeper than the water, dissipating, finally, in some darkness. Up here, though, light everywhere, playing…
We’re driving I-64 for 320 miles when we get to East St. Louis and notice how this part of it, anyway, looks like any place with a Lowes and a Wal-Mart and fast food ghettos. Then suddenly in front of us the arch glows in the white sun, rising above the bridges and underpasses, taking…
Sit me on a beach, and I can get lost at sea for hours. The water’s ceaselessness is breathtaking. The movement reveals everything, water reflecting itself and the sky, light striking a thousand angles at once. On the deck of a small boat, I can look back at the hills rising up and the water…
The steep islands move by fast, right and left. The sun is intense, pushing down on my forehead, on the deck, through the sea. The thick breeze is cool on my skin. Have I ever seen blue before? The little island off to the right . . . a perfect pyramid. Behind me, other voyagers…
The walk to the public beach is up a good hill past a little market and a café, the steps to Palamidi fortress on the left. I round the top and the music drifts up with the first sight of the sea, a fast dance beat and a blue embrace. Light rain as I jog…
Modest, downtown mostly hugs the ground, the few tall exceptions sources of pride and embarrassment. I’m easily drawn to Triangle Park, near the center, with its long curved fountain. The water is loud and colorful, a miracle framed by busy streets. It makes me happy. I try to see what color the water is, exactly,…
We’re careful to confine the twining vines to the corner of the side deck. “Better go cut back that honeysuckle,” John will say one day in the fall when he’s looking for a little something to do. Come spring, the cascade of blossoms spilling over the railing is a wonder, sweet and generous in spite…
I had missed the dogs all day, so we ran across the field together as fast as we could. “Hector!” I called as he chased a squirrel into the trees, the two of them hiding in the light. I ran after him happily, losing myself in pursuit. Sometimes the light at the horizon is so white…
I wondered what was in the box on the porch. John had ordered yellow roses for his grandmother’s grave for her birthday. He set them on the dining table in our turquoise vase until it was time. When he got back, I told him I missed them. Next day I found yellow roses on the…
G Bebs / Photographs 