An Evening Walk

by cheri

IMG_0151Painters and photographers know that the best light often comes at the end of a day, like a stimulating conversation over a cup of tea or a glass of wine.

As I set out the other night for a much-needed walk up the road with my dog, I felt the hills summoning the rain rather intensely. They pulled out all the stops: make-up, fragrance, beguiling glances, and undo attention.

IMG_0167 2

The light on the hills afar revealed the extent that they would go to attract the rain. Is that war paint? Sensual blush? Embarrassment at such a lack of modesty? Even the oaks circle around curiously, their canopies arching for a better look at  such an obvious display of neediness.


On my way down the road, I turn my attention to its other side, away from the northern frenzy and to the west, where the mountain top communes with the cloud cover in a manly way. There, the oaks sink to their roots in adoration and quiet.


IMG_0181The rain moves in. The fence braces.

It’s going to be a gully-washer, those lucky hills.

About Cheri

Writer, artist, cable television host, grandmother to four!
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29 Responses to An Evening Walk

  1. Sharon says:

    Beautiful, majestic sunsets over the hills never cease to amaze me! Lovely photos.

    • Cheri says:

      This one was especially striking, Sharon. Now you see these vistas from the other side of the mountain! Happy Thanksgiving to my dear, dear friend.

  2. Cyberquill says:

    How can you go for a carefree stroll and focus on the scenery and the weather, knowing that you or your dog may encounter a rattlesnake at any moment?

    • Cheri says:

      You are right. I didn’t blog about killing a huge rattlesnake in August which was sound asleep on our driveway. But it is not rattlesnake season. Now my dog and I must look out for cars. Hope you are well.

  3. Carol McCann says:

    Those hills should get what we have been getting. They would probably give a big sigh when the rains quit. Those pictures are gorgeous!!

    • Cheri says:

      Yes. You are getting hammered with rain. I wonder what your hills would say if they could talk. And what a surprise to take such pictures with (of all things…) an iPhone 8. Thank you for your kind comment.

  4. Brig says:

    Beautiful narration and photos. My favorite is the second one, where I thing I spotted a pair of RanchOlivos in the wild!
    I have to laugh every time I look at the last one, where you all are seeing the distant view…
    the Cowman would have been out of his pickup with his fencing pliers to hand,
    straightening posts and tightening wires…
    A Happy Thanksgiving wish for you and yours. Brig

    • Cheri says:

      Happy Thanksgiving to my friend Brig. I hope you are with your wonderful family, enjoying (maybe) workable limbs fully healed.

      Those are not our fences. Were they, Hizzoner would be just like your Cowman when it comes to keeping fences, equipment, and leather in clean workable order. Those fences belong to a widow, whose husband died long ago.

      Usually on this walk, dozens of bluebirds sit on these fences. My iPhone does not have a zoom or I would have taken a shot of those gorgeous little blue and orange birds.

  5. shoreacres says:

    Such a delightful little walk. The light on the hills in that second photo seems otherworldly to me. The color reminds me of some of the paint-by-number pieces I did as a child. That’s not a criticism of your hills: only an acknowledgement that even paint-by-number people can get it right once in a while.

    I laughed at Brig’s comment about the fence. I was in barbed wire country last weekend, and believe you me, those people were keeping their fences in good order. The wire on the one I dove into was so tight I bounced right off. And no: there wasn’t any contact with a barb.

    Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours. One of the things I’m grateful for is you and your musings.

    • Cheri says:

      That is exactly what the light looked like on those hills. I became so excited about the light and potential photographic beauty that I forgot I was not traveling with my Lumix. Drat!

      You dove into barbed wire??? So glad you weren’t punctured. Enough accidents for this fall.

      And when it comes to high-quality writing and photography all rolled into one of the most delightful blogs on the internet today–one in which I always learn something new–yours takes the cake.

      Thank you for all of the joy and energy that you put into your work.

      I, too, am thankful for your readership and friendship. Happy Thanksgiving to you, Linda.

  6. Richard says:

    Claim now the day from eastern skies,
    This hour and evr’y minute bless.
    Beyond the west creation lies.

    Our bravest knowledge never dies,
    Breathe long and hold a kind caress,
    Claim now the day from eastern skies.

    While light against the darkness vies,
    Hold firm, defeat distress.
    Beyond the west creation lies.

    Dreams and sunlight from the night arise,
    Hope and joy unite in darkness.
    Claim the day from eastern skies.

    Brush bold, your palette death defies;
    Such colour will those fears address.
    Beyond the west creation lies.

    Sweet words may grace the simple and the wise,
    Or yet eternity impress.
    Claim now the day from eastern skies
    Beyond the west creation lies.

    • Cheri says:

      Thank you for this message of solace and love in a vilanelle. The very best expression of Thanksgiving. On the day after Thanksgiving, when the turkey soup is on the stove and the dog sleeps exhaustively by the hearth, having survived constant attention by two granddaughters for 7 days, I am able to take a breath and exhale in gratefulness for readers and friends like you.

    • wkkortas says:

      Now that is an enviable piece of villanelle!

  7. ShimonZ says:

    poetry in words and pictures… and now with this addition by Richard, like visiting a salon.

    • Cheri says:

      What a cool way to view this conversation, Shimon. A salon! Bravo. On a different topic, I have been listening to Richard Tucker, the fabulous tenor from the Metropolitan Opera. I read that he had been a young cantor at a synagogue in the upper east side. One night, during the High Holy Days, one of the visitors to the congregation heard him sing and the rest is history. He was the only member of the Metropolitan Opera whose funeral was held on stage there.

      • ShimonZ says:

        I’ve heard the story of his entry into opera told somewhat differently. But I can tell you that even in my youth in the orthodox community, people viewed the cantor as a bit lightheaded. There are two different roles in leading the synagogue prayers. One is that of the cantor. The other is for the same purpose ostensibly, leading the prayers. But whereas the cantor is chosen for his voice and melodies, the ‘representative’ is usually a very devout member of the congregation. And when he prays, it’s more like hearing a conversation with god.

  8. Cheri says:

    Very interested, Shimon. Why is a “representative” leading the services instead of a rabbi?

  9. wkkortas says:

    This is not only stunning photography, but damn fine writing as well.

  10. bogard says:

    Hi Cheri,

    Just catching up on your work.
    The end.


  11. Jeremy Block says:

    I absolutely love this.

    • Cheri says:

      To receive such a dramatic comment like yours Jeremy, you, so far away in a land so unlike this scene——well? Your auntie is just tickled light blue.

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