Saturday, August 13, 2005

In The Something, Oh My Darling 

When the lights are soft and low
And the quiet shadows, falling,
Softly come and softly go...*


Every once in a while a summer afternoon storm clears the sky just around sunset and a bright fire colorizes the whole hazy world. Grass is greener, skies are bluer; it is as if a film had been removed, leaving everything golden and new. The cows next door glow like a hundred and one dalmations in heat. In the grey, vague distance, sunset clouds slink pink around low mountains.

Man, I love when that happens.

There’s got to be a word for this phenomenon of golden twilight -- gloaming comes to mind, but I always thought the gloaming was a bit more purply, somehow Moorish. I’d look it up, but the euphoria of walking out into a Technicolor world has overwhelmed me.


*Turns out the color I'm describing is the same color as the background behind this source of the above lyrics to In the Gloaming. How odd.

posted by boyhowdy | 9:57 PM |

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