Today’s post is brought to you by the color blue, as in brilliantly blue skies. I used to take them for granted, until I moved to the grey sky capital of the planet, the Pacific Northwest. Days and days of grey would take their toll until one lunch hour, I would look up and see a tiny patch of blue sky. Blue!
Now I am in New Mexico, where I came to see if the light was as beautiful as I remembered it from my cross-country drive in 1980. It is. All three of the pictures featured today were taken Saturday morning, just walking around a small campground in southern New Mexico. The light here makes everything look beautiful. I love it here, and I love the sky blue most of all.
As soon as I got to New Mexico, that was mine. As soon as I saw that it was my country. I’d never seen anything like it before, but it fitted to me exactly. It’s something that’s in the air — it’s different. The sky is different, the wind is different.
I love to soar in the boundless sky.
In the vast emptiness of the blue, my soul rejoices
listening to the soundless music of the wind.
I never get tired of the blue sky.
Vincent Van Gogh