Seeing Red

I’m back to civilization, but that also means back to work.

My folks live down in Georgia by the sandy shores of Clarke Hill Lake. The nearest settlement that would properly be called a “town” is Washington, which is about a half-hour away. It’s almost entirely farmland throughout that region, & beautifully restored plantation houses abound (No, that's not my folk's house below). There are absolutely no commercial or industrial lights to pollute the night sky. The effect, though, is not that the stars are so much brighter, but that the sky is that much blacker; so much so that the blackness seems to drown out the star light.


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On the painting of motorbikes:

CleanCleanCleanCleanClean
WaitWaitWaitWaitWaitWait
SandSandSandSandSand
WaitWaitWaitWaitWaitWait
CleanCleanCleanCleanClean
WaitWaitWaitWaitWaitWait
SandSandSandSandSand
WaitWaitWaitWaitWaitWait
PrepPrepPrepPrepPrepPrep
WaitWaitWaitWaitWaitWait
Paint

One may speak of seeing the world with rose-colored lenses, but in my case, they’re Rosa Corsa. It may take a few weeks before I start seeing other colors clearly.