River picture

I had meetings and errands today, but on the way home I stopped by the river. It seems each time the Good Lord paints another stunning picture. 

Earlier, when I drove by the blinking bank sign, it flashed 99 degrees at 2:45 p.m. Normally when it's as hot as a fresh-baked biscuit, the red clay here begins to looks like coral lava. Also, the sky usually has a haze that dampens the color, and hides the clouds. Maybe they're not hidden, but it's just too hot to bother looking up. 

But today was different. The sky was as clear as a cat-eye marble and the clouds were a stunning contrast to a color of blue, I couldn't name.

When I stopped by the river there wasn't a soul there, which is rare. Usually someone is there if only to enjoy the vibe of the place.

Off in the distance I heard a cooing dove. Do they sound louder in late summer?  I'm not sure, but I don't always hear them. Maybe it was because of the stillness.

When I got home, Jilda had already left for work, so I moved to the screen porch to write. It was still warm, but the overhead fan kept the air stirring which made it tolerable. 

I'm still working on the piece for the New York Times. Maybe I'm obsessing over it, but I want it to be as good as I can make it before submitting.

An unexpected rain moved through from the south. The cool breeze was a welcome respite.

I hope you don't tire of my river pictures.