The other day there was a storm out in the bay that produced deep gray-blue clouds. The light filtering through made all the colors so intense. Everything stood out in relief, and it was almost like being inside a painting. It made me think of this picture.

I took this last year when we went to Africa. We had flown that morning from the Samburu National Reserve to the Masai Mara on the northern end of the Serengetti. Our guides were driving the Land Rovers and supplies to the Mara, so we had a different guide that afternoon. He didn't take us very far and we didn't see huge herds of animals, just small groups here and there. (Turned out they were all at the Mara River, but that's another story.) A storm was brewing, so he was heading back to camp when I hollered "Stop!"

Guide: Do you see something?
Me: Yes, I want a picture of that tree.
Guide: The tree?
Me: Yes. the tree. Can you move the truck so I can get a good shot?
Guide (obviously not believing this): You want to take a picture of THAT tree?
Me: Van Gogh would have painted this! It's the most incredible light I've ever seen. I have to have a picture.

One other person decided it was a good shot to take; the rest just sat there looking at me like I was a nut case. But it's one of my favorite pictures now, and I even enlarged it and put it in my office. What is it about the light when there's a storm brewing?

Ooh, maybe that's a metaphor for my life right now. The ex-DIL has been lurking on PresentStorm's blog and suddenly posted anonymous comments blasting Stormii. You know, if you're going to snoop, you probably won't like everything you find. There were a bunch of comments posted back and forth, including one of mine. The ex-DIL/roommate/alter ego accused me of having thinly disguised hostility. I have many, many reasons for hostility toward her. Whether she does it deliberately or accidentally, she has caused so much pain in my family. I'm not just talking about the divorce. I strongly suspect she's reading my blog, and she knows what she's done, although she probably doesn't even count all the times she upset my mother on purpose. But yesterday, in the midst of all this, she called and said the Little Angel had a fever, she had no medicine, the LA was too sick to go to the store, and she couldn't reach anyone. (She never even tried Guppy.) I went to the store, bought the medicine, GAVE it to her, and was as polite as I could be. And that is how it always will be. The Little Angel is the important thing. But I would have to be some kind of idiot to ever trust her mother again.