Rainy Sunday mornings are awesome!

When I walked outside this morning to go to church, the first thing I noticed was the strong wind pushing north. The skies were gray and I could tell that a storm is out there, waiting to pounce. It began sprinkling as I parked and headed into the church building. The smell coming from the rain on the nearby farms, carried on the wind, caressed my nose and it was wonderful. There's nothing like the smell of rain, and nothing like the feel of it on your skin. I looked toward the Wasatch Mountains and the clouds lowering around them made me want to be up in the peaks, playing, waiting for the rains and possibly damp, heavy, snow to come down. But I couldn't just go up there right then. Commitments sometimes keep us from enjoying God's blessings of the scent of rain, and the feel and sound of the wind. It's okay though. I can thank Him for them now, and go out and play in them later.

Just thinking about the great things the Lord has done for us is enough to keep one humble. We cannot fathom all that has been done on our behalf. I know some of you don't believe in God. For me, I cannot go through a single day of my life without having his presence manifested. And for that, I can offer nothing but praise and a heart that yearns to do His will, but can never fully do so. I am, after all, a mortal and sinful man. It's not an excuse, but a fact. I will rely upon the strength of my Redeemer, Jesus Christ, to see me through. He died that I might live, and for that, I praise his name forever.

Super amazingness from the night sky: another thing for which I'm grateful

A month or two ago, early in the morning in the eastern sky, Jupiter, Venus, and the Moon were all grouped close together. As I would get up in the morning and leave for work, I saw them daily, just as the first twinge of light was beginning to appear above the Wasatch peaks. In my rush to accomplish many things prior to heading off to work, I would forget until I was leaving late, and the only camera available would be my phone--a poor substitute at best for my Canon SLR, especially at that time of day.
Gradually, the three heavenly bodies drifted further apart. Now, the Moon is nowhere to be seen near the two planets, and the two planets themselves have spaced themselves quite a distance apart. It's part of a recurring cycle. One day, in the not too distant future, they'll all be close together again in the sky. Maybe then, I'll get out the better camera and get a better shot.
I watched a documentary called John Denver: Country Boy on Netflix last night. I really liked it. One of the things it mentioned was that in the song "Rocky Mountain High" the line "I've seen it raining fire in the sky" refers to a time when he and his buds were out in the mountains during the time of the Perseids meteor shower. That would be awesome! I need to do that sometime.
I'm always grateful for the beautiful stars at night, and for sharing the view with those who are equally appreciative. One of these days, I'm just going to lay back on a hillside somewhere and stare up at the sky--maybe even during the Perseids meteor shower, but any time would be great.

September 1st--still summer

It's a stunningly beautiful night here in Salt Lake Valley. The few clouds in the sky have caught and have lost the glow of the sun and now hang, just the right color of gray to complement the darkening blue of twilight. It's peaceful and still, and the heat of the day still lingers, drying the lawn, withering the flowers, parching the pavement. It's cooling though, slowly. Not just the day, but the last days of summer--cooling, slowly--our desires for cooler weather are about to be realized, and soon, our wishes will turn to longing for warmer days. But not before we get to enjoy the cooler. The leaves cascading from the maples, the oaks, the quakies. The crisp mornings morphing into gently warm days as the summer begins to wane and autumn returns.

The days of the harvest are beginning. I took my first load of tomatoes to work yesterday. I cut open the first cantaloupe I've ever grown to maturity, just a few days before Ann and I left for our few days in Colorado. I say I've never grown a cantaloupe to maturity before, but not actually liking them, I haven't really ever given it a lot of effort. It's different this year. I built my raised beds. I tried some things that I haven't tried in a while. I knew someone in the household would actually like cantaloupe and I found out that Justin, my son-in-law who lives with us, does. I cut into that first cantaloupe and sliced it, smelling its odor, longing to love cantaloupe. I cut a few chunks, from a slice, and put them in a small bowl. Maybe this would be the time. I ate one of the chunks. Not terrible, but I didn't fall in love with it just because I had grown it. I ate a second chunk. It was better than any of the store bought cantaloupes I'd ever eaten. Still, it was a cantaloupe. I still don't like it, but Justin does.

My first ever successful cantaloupe. If you like cantaloupe, you're likely drooling right now...

While we were gone, those who live in our house with us let a second ripe cantaloupe rot. When I got home, I turned it over and it had turned mushy, bruised, caving in like moldy wood. I threw it into an adjacent bed, stabbed a hole through its heart with a bamboo pole, and checked the other one that looked nearly ripe. This one, would live. Today, I picked it and took it to the neighbors. "Do you guys like cantaloupe?" I asked Jason, the man of the house. "Yeah," he said, and excited gleam in his eyes. "Here ya go then," I said. "Thanks," he responded.

Just a few more weeks and the harvest will be over. The days will turn shorter and colder and then one night, it will freeze hard. The tender flowers and veggies will all collapse and it will be time to gather up the vines and clear the soil, making way for next year's crop. I hope to harvest many more tomatoes before that day arrives. I can only eat so many BLTs, and so many salads. I don't have the time or equipment this year, nor the means to purchase it in order to preserve the extra tomatoes. But there will be neighbors who will enjoy them. And I will enjoy that they are enjoying them.

Sky shots

I often find that I'm nowhere near a camera when amazing sunsets happen. Nowadays though, you can get pretty decent pics on most phones. I have a cheap phone and don't know how to use the camera on it, nor if it can be uploaded somewhere if I manage to figure out how to take a shot. For this reason, when I want to take photographs, I take real cameras. I personally believe that real cameras take real photographs and phones take snapshots. In reality, it's the person behind either one that can capture a good shot, or not.
I think my method for capturing great shots involves taking massive numbers of photos, then discarding 90 percent of them as not worthy of reproduction.
That being said, my wife Ann and I drove up near East Canyon, Utah last evening, intent on being there if the early evening sunset turned the sky to pink  and orange fire.
The sunset wasn't utterly amazing, but still, I think I was able to get some fairly decent shots.

East Canyon Reservoir at dusk

Looking back over my shoulder at the wispy clouds behind me

Mostly, those who capture the best sunsets and photos over all, spend a great deal of time out at the location from where they want to take the shot, waiting for the perfect shot. The rest of us just get lucky once in a while.

One final shot...