AUTUMN SUMMER SKY

Summer continues to hang on by the skin of its teeth, and with it comes some spectacular sights.

When the autumn temperature pushes ninety, the morning sun rises blood-red and large in the sky.  Everything is deep orange, washing out many of the colors but adding a vibrant green to the slowly fading lawns.  The red sun is so large and so low in the sky in the morning that it almost looks like an alien planet invading the skyline.

The hot days and cool nights confuse the bogs and the ponds.  Driving through the state forest in the morning resembles driving through fog machines in a horror movie.  I half-expect a Yeti, a werewolf, an ex-boyfriend, or perhaps Jamie Lee Curtis's Laurie Strode to jump out at my car and scare the living shit out of me.  Of course, the fog is far more enthralling than frightening, but it is still creepy-cool in the post-dawn early morning.

The best part about fall-summer days is when the cold seasonal air combines with the unseasonal warmth, producing spectacular sunrises and sunsets.  On my way to work, I glimpse the sky through the still-covered trees.  I pull over in the middle of the street (I check -- no one is behind me) and snap a picture -- nothing fancy.  About a quarter of a mile later, I pull over on the side of the road and snap another picture -- also nothing fancy.

I truly wish the pictures could make a dent in the beauty that is my commute to or from work.  For now, my cell phone camera will have to do, which doesn't say much.  The weather is supposed to stretch into next week, though, so I should get a chance or two to redeem myself.