Photos from today

There's a small private lake near where I live. It's called Smith Lake, I've been told. I don't know for sure. It's a private lake for those who own houses near, but I can drive around it and take photos. I've always wanted to own a home on it. A dream for another life, I guess, but I do enjoy the drive. Today took photos at various spots.

This is my favorite view of the lake. I like to drive slowly past there and look out across the water, particularly at night. It's lovely and quiet other than the frogs and insects, which I like and find peaceful and comforting.

I'm often surprised at the shots my camera produces. I really like the reflection of the trees in the below photo and how dark it looks. Reminds me of photos of Montana. 

There are a lot of deer near the lake. I sure the residents get tired of them eating their gardens and shrubs, but the deer are lovely. Below are two fawns. They haven't lost their spots. They're not scared of humans and cars, just cautious. There's no hunting allowed around the lake, and a few residents put out feed for them. My roomie and I've seen about 15 of them at one time; it's a lake herd.

I opened my window and took a picture of the sky. I love the blues and the clouds. I choose this as today's photo for the Year in Photos project. A couple of years back, I got fascinated by clouds and took many photos of the sky. Don't know why. This photo stirs my interest in the sky again.

Have you ever just taken a few minutes to watch the clouds drift across the sky. Some people see shapes... dragons, animals, horses cars... what they're looking for, I think. But I'm not sure what I see. The sky fills me up until there's nothing of me left. No thoughts, no worries, no me. Just the clouds and winds and sun.

Starry nights do that to me, too. I can look into the darkness punctuated with pinpricks of lights, and the vastness inside me expands. It's a weird feeling -- or it is after I've stopped experiencing it -- but when I'm in the moment, it doesn't feel weird. It feels... expectant. Like I'm waiting for something to raise its head and look at me. You'd think that would be frightening, but it's not. It's anticipation. A strange anticipation.

I've mentioned this to other people before, but I've never met anyone who felt the same way. I'm sure someone does in this world with millions of people. Maybe in China or maybe just someone I don't know. Maybe in the next house. I'd like to meet them, though. I'd like to find out how they feel. And talk with them about that vast creature out there. Ask them when we look at the sky, what are we expecting? What's coming for us out of that blackness between the stars?

And why aren't we afraid? That might be the most important question of all.