It’s the same ole… picture. Why take it again? You have that already? Over and over… I take the same picture of the same subjects… and they are always different… or not. Sometimes there is something almost ethereal. There’s a slight difference from before that transcends…. We are on the flight path from BWI PHI and IAD – Baltimore, Philadelphia, Washington DC. Isn’t it swell that the jet paths cross over our heads north and south? Ethereal, they diffuse in minutes. We are between here and there, the middle of nowhere.
I take pictures of Colleen. Shhh… do I love here because she looks so good or does she look so good because I love her? Don’t ask. Don’t know. And, flowers? Sometimes there’s a glow, an angle, a softness of focus – that subtle difference between ooh and aah. Is there? a difference? Some days I am good. And, on others I feel like that “blind squirrel” lucky enough to get a nut.
Dawn. I’ve posted jet trails before. I’ve shot them a few times. Interesting. People traveling to and fro. From my vantage they are headed east west. We are a flyover zone. People are not staying, just going. It’s eerie. We are on lockdown – corona. It’s a bit scary that the planes are flying and potentially carrying corona with them. But, folks still gotta get around. We haven’t been out of the house in a few days since groceries last week. So far so good. (as of this writing two months ago) It’s also bittersweet. Had we no virus, we would be just about completing a second trip to Scotland now. Alas, plans were rewritten. I wonder how the past shall be. As Dave asked once long ago, “Dad, when is tomorrow?”
It fascinates me in Delaware. We are in the middle of intersecting jet trails that cross my sky. Everyone is on the way over Delaware to somewhere else. Out of NYC, Baltimore, Philly, DC. From overseas. The jet trails cross hither and yon. But DC? It seems they are also at an intersection as well. I don’t feel so left out watching the rest of the world pass by.
I live at a cross road. Morning skies are always interesting. Count ‘em. Too numerous to count. I’m in the middle of tbings, but not really. I liken it to living on a golf course and not playing a single round. I’m ok with it. I don’t mind not having to battle TSA and crowded planes and baggage claim and… Sure, I’ll fly again. Meanwhile, I enjoy the myriad of jet trails that cross my skies. Of course, as a kid (8 or so) I used to run from under planes passing overhead with the belief that I did not want to be there if someone overhead flushed the toilet.
I used to live at the crossroads of the world. Now I am at another crossroad. It seems that air traffic out of Reagan and Dulles and BWI and Phi all cross Delaware. The clouds move fast. They change like the weather. Wait a minute or so it will look different. Every once in a while, the jet trails cross over in a great pattern. Everyone is headed somewhere. There’s an app that lets you point your phone at the trail and it will tell you the flight and destination of the plane that made it. TMI, I just like the pattern. Simple.