Not Quite A Thousand Words

Saturday morning, I left my house to run some errands. As I left my front door, I paused a moment to breath in the uncommonly wet air-a residual of the previous night's downpour. The sun was breaking between the storm clouds and warmed my face as I walked to my car. It was a beautiful morning! As I drove over a small hill, a breath taking view caught my attention. In the foreground was a solid river of black rock. Behind the ancient lava flow, a red mountain rose from the desert floor. Large dark clouds hovered just above the red giant looking ready to release their heavy burden upon it. Some of the heavy clouds had fallen into small canyons forming misty pools that seemed to defy gravity. Along the steep face of the mountain, smaller bits of cloud clung like lost sheep perched on rocky outcroppings. What a glorious view! I regretted not having my camera with me, and thought to myself, that I should just carry it with me whenever I leave the house. I continued winding my way through the rocky landscape toward my destination, glancing up at the drifting clouds whenever I had a chance. I returned home as the sun was again being hidden by the gathering clouds. As I entered the house, my most urgent thought was to put my camera in my purse in hopes of never loosing the opportunity to capture such a scene again. Because a picture may be worth a thousand words, but my 250 or so words are just not quite the same as seeing it for yourself.