Tucked over behind the electric grid, underneath the bridge that would take you from downtown Dallas to Kessler, was a curio shop brimming with trinkets. The second room to the left, after entering the store, was chock full of vintage Christmas ornaments grouped beautifully by color. I remember an entire table of eggshell blue ornaments on one side of the room, and on the other, a display of dusty pinks and gold, and that precise moment when that became one of my favorite color combinations. I spent hours wandering the shop and more hours picking through the holiday treasures of that little room.
Those small windows of time that go unnoticed in the overall flurry of a day; the ones that seem to happen between that which I should do and that which I want to do, between that which is expected and that which is not. I find these pockets are where, if I am aware and present, the universe tends to me. It is where the lightness of life resides - where kindness appears like the sunburst that shines for just a moment through the smallest window of my room.
The light is fading. The damp sea air cloyingly envelops me as I stand in front of the christmas tree on the deserted beach.
The deep blue of the twilight sky reflected back towards my lens from the mullions that frame the windows facing the horizon line of the southwestern sky.