I'm leaving the old intro here, but adding this- it appears the doves have taken over my blog for their fiction. Just as well, I was doing a piss poor job of updating. They're doing much better.

This blog is infrequently updated, full of incorrect spellings, misused words, and general bad grammar. It started when I was trying to use google+ (which I've since given up on) and discovered there was no character limit for posts. If you've known me a long time, a lot of these stories will be old hat. If you plan to know me for a long time, you'll no doubt hear many of them in person. But, folks seemed to enjoy them, so here they are.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

story 6.2

I love flying over mountains and seeing their shadows. I love seeing farms from way way up and trying to figure out what the very long, very light coloured thing is. I love flying over subdivisions, with their little curvy roads spouting culdesacs, and how they look like mesoamerican petroglyphs, if you're far enough up. I love seeing puffy clouds on the horizon, and I love the way the sun hitting the top of the cloud, and the shadow on the bottom, makes them look just like mountains reflected in clear lakes. For what may be the first time, I was descending through those puffy clouds right at sunset, and they were red the whole way through, and then, just as the cloud started feathering, and we were coming out, the whole world was momentarily rose coloured, before it became it's usual, still beautiful, self.

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