This is about a third of the pictures I took yesterday morning. I tried to edit ruthlessly but there were so many subtle differences moment to moment . . . the pinpricks of light in the dark valley . . .
the rose glow spreading across the sky . . .
and the drama as the heavy clouds overhead are illuminated.
That fades quickly . . .
and the mists begin to rise . . .
and the clouds become a pastel parfait-- layer on layer of soft color.
Then the gold appears, heralding the main event . . .
imagine the trumpets blaring, cymbals crashing . . .
maybe angels shouting . . .
just for a brief moment, then the clouds hide the sun . . .
and all is serene once more.
