I came in from the backyard when the sky was strawberry shortcake pink. My husband was watching TV. "The sunset is gorgeous," I said. "I can see it out the window, " he said. "I'm going for a walk. It's too beautiful to miss." I headed across the street, down Cobblestone Lane. No cobblestones, just macadam against my bare feet. It's a cul de sac, a half-mile down, a half-mile back. I measured once. The sky quickly became blueberry pie and vanilla ice cream, like the juice left on your plate after a sweet summer dessert. I walked past the place I call "milkweed heaven" where I'd reveled in the monarch's delight this morning. Where are the monarchs now? Fluttery moths and some strange red beetles with antennae had replaced them. Kids were not quite asleep, and I heard family noises in the houses I passed. Why do the mothers sound so harsh? I'm the soft voice in my house. The moon was half, and I was glad that the other half,...
Life is a series of snapshots meant to be recorded in words. A writer and photographer shares hers.