I was up at 5:45am Sunday morning. It was still dark outside, and I tried to go back to sleep, but to no avail. It was the first morning at our Hot Springs, Arkansas VRBO rental, and I wanted to see the sunrise. I pulled a jacket over my pajamas and headed down the back steps to catch the first rays of sun peek out through the tall pine trees.
The rest of the family was still snug in their beds, but I got to enjoy the majesty of the dawn.
The sunlight lit up the mist on the lake, and I watched the ducks glide by.
We were still in the shade, but the sun hit just beyond the neighbor’s dock.
Then it lit up the shore like a fire.
And the whole neighborhood turned golden.
I had to toss my son’s long, pointed umbrella last night, as it finally gave up the ghost. The white plastic pieces on the shaft had gone brittle and cracked. It must have been 20 years old, and it took up several feet of space, not having been invented during the collapsible, compact years.
They mustn’t make them like that anymore, as our newer, smaller umbrella ribs can’t seem to last longer than a set of tires, and they certainly snap in a solid wind.
However, we live in Texas, where it rains as many fingers as I have per year. It’s enough to make us want to run out and dance in it–and we have! But never to this extent.
I discovered this festive Christmas painting in an art magazine by artist Dan Williams. The idea of snow and colder weather is incredibly appealing as we continue to swelter.
Williams also does a swell summer scene, evoking a chill mood.
One third into September, and we’re still at 100 degrees or more each day. Last month was our second hottest August on record. It hasn’t rained this month. Or last month. Or the month before.
Sure, it looks ragtag and uncomfortable. But this 1939 stout shelter provided great protection from hurricane winds. Located near Caguas, the corrugated iron roof was secured with wire and crossed railroad ties to anchor it down.