My town is centred on a narrow river valley running east and west and surrounded by hills whose ridges and valleys radiate like spokes of a wheel. This morning I drove down Hamilton Road, which offers the broadest vista of the town as you descend the hill. It was soon after dawn with a hard frost. Fog filled the valley like a view of the sea or large lake. A grey cloud on the horizon looked like a distant mountain on the other side of the bay. The street and buildings at the edge of the fog had transformed themselves into a waterfront. I searched for signs of a beach or fishing boats anywhere along the curve of the bay.
Why didn’t I stop the car and take a photograph? I asked myself the same question at sunset yesterday, as I came down the same road and looked at the same sky. It was various shades of burnished gold and turquoise, like a glorious banner hanging above the town.
It’s true that I’m in love with the firmament, in all weathers and on all days. As Jimi Hendrix sang, “’Scuse me while I kiss the sky.” She is my living mistress: only death—mine of course—will part us. If they ever want to put me away in an old people’s home at the Government’s expense, with no window to gaze out in wonder, I hope I’ll still be compos mentis enough to escape to Montego Bay, or Goa, and spend my last days on the beach. I’ll earn my keep there somehow, perhaps reading stories to children, or signing autographs as Lord Lucan. Or perhaps I’ll go to Phursatgunj, the legendary town in Bengal, where the lazy live in style.
a wayfarer’s notes 
you in old-age home Vincent. nah!
you should have been born in India. your son or some of your family member would have taken care of you. would have valued your suggestions, even it was the whims of dying grey cells.
or else, you can come to phursatgunj. i will be there with you. it's a lovely place to be sure!
LikeLike
and did you notice that you cannot go to Rob's blog from the link you have provided here. you have also added some extraneous character. delete those and re-link Rob
LikeLike
Vincent,
I find myself the same. In love with the firmament in all weathers and all days. I often ask myself as well why I didn't capture a photo. I find the experience so often to be something so magical as to be holy and sacred in some ways. I guess I have found that to disturb or interrupt it with a photo will somehow break the spell, and that if the image in front of me fails to capture all that I experienced in that moment, I will walk away at least somewhat saddened, as if I did the moment an injustice in some way.
You write with such poetry and such heart from a place of depth and really, of Love. Thank you for sharing yourself so beautifully and so generously.
Peace and hugs be with you.
LikeLike
now that I've finally got my camera working (sort of, there is still much I don't understand) I ask myself that every day. Why am I not capturing a glimpse of the bay? why not showing the fuschia stubbornly blooming with frost on it's leaves? all of this beauty that sustains me, why am I not taking pictures?
LikeLike
Beautiful picture you captured for us! Thanks 🙂
LikeLike