Posts Tagged ‘red balloon’

Just The Way You Look Tonight

July 16, 2012

Every thing is meant to be—exactly how it is.

 

Sometimes that means sitting quietly in the hammock waiting for Mark to herd the cats out to the Russian River.

 

Sometimes it means getting into the water, despite, or perhaps because of the fact that one does not go to the river and not go for a swim.

 

Sometimes it means hanging back so that you can get the shot, or the shots.

 

I took over 350 frames today.

 

Voluptuos

Leopard print

Record amount of frames for me.

 

I am beyond the moon for having taken the time to actually continue to hold the camera, to continue to point, shoot, shift, sit, watch.

 

I can get shy sometimes.

 

I don’t want to draw attention to myself, as though if you actually notice me you might scurry away.

 

Things that stuck with me today:

 

The 10 month old baby blue pit bull that was at the beach getting coached by his very proud papa into the water.  As the dog paddled out to his owner, from the profile of his head he looked like a grey hippopotamus.

 

Megan and Deke lying next to each other on the beach.

Sunbathing

The lovely ladies

 

Jayne smiling with the wind pulling her hair away from  her face twisted in the passenger side seat of the Cabriolet Volkswagen.

 

The feel of wind floating on my eyelids and the white, red, white, yellow flash point of the sun against the skin of my closed eyes as I leaned my head against the warm leather in the back seat of the Volks.

 

Joan standing in the bamboo with a red balloon.

 

Bonnie and Rick standing together in the dark kitchen picking at fruit in a bowl.

 

Mary sweet, reluctant, then suddenly bold in a cowboy hat with a white sheepskin on the leather couch in the rental house.

 

Guns a Blazing

Shoot ’em up cowgirl

Jayne’s soft neck as she leaned over the cutting board slicing pineapple.  The secret smile on her face.

 

Piglet curled up on the edge of a chaise lounge.

 

The smell of Esteban, Cree’s two month old baby boy.  And how he followed the swing of my earrings and thrust his tongue out the side of his mouth with that new baby smile that you tell yourself is actually the baby connecting with you and not gas.

 

Or so you do hope.

 

His eyes, deep blue, with dark black pupils, the iris so blue to be almost violet.

 

The way the warmth of the house captures you on the threshold between the porch and the kitchen.

 

Joan eating cherries in the kitchen window.

 

Marc walking back out amongst the party of ribs, heaped with ribs, sashaying about the patio.

 

Ribs, it’s what’s for dinner.

 

The sound this morning as I sat in mediation on the hill above the house of a buck in the yard just down from me.  Being able to sit so still that a deer walked within five feet of me and I could hear the grass, dry, sweet, almost hay like in ripeness, crackle under his hooves.

 

The Mermaid at the River Festival.

 

 

The swan boat on the water.

 

Cold pink grapefruit Perrier in a  red wine goblet laced with sliced strawberries.

 

The whisper and giggle of girls down the hall.

 

A circle of light that spilled on Byon’s face as he smiled at Megan.

 

Clover walking, like the human incarnation of the deer, picking her way  through the gravel to the chaise lounge.

 

Molly, the little girl dancing on the deck.

 

The porno shoot.

 

What?

 

The porno shoot.

 

Last night, Mark, in his divine clown silliness, dropped a fur throw over his bits, picked up a cowboy hat and from  out of nowhere he pulls a glass gun shaped a touch more phallic than should by any rights look.

 

Then Jayne.

Then Bonnie.

Then me.

 

Joan directing, fluffing, “drop you chin, tilt your head, elongate your leg, shift, pull down the skein of your imagination and get into it.

 

We set the stage and the next thing you know, I have many photographs of my sexy ass friends doing sexy, funny, and stupendously, joyously funny and intimate moments.

 

All we needed was some low light, an extra cup of coffee, Rick’s resoundingly ridiculous, crispyity fantasy funnel cakes.

 

Caffeine, sugar, Joan directing, Bonnie fluffing.  Porno shoot at Ok Corral.

 

Maybe that’s what I will do, put together a little calendar and raise the ruckus with these photos.

 

I will say this much, I want to blow them up, I want to frame them, I want to kiss the foreheads of these luscious people.

 

I will long remember tonight, even without the photographic evidence.

 

Moments sublime.

 

I am graced with love.

 

Graced I say.

Furry throw anyone?

Leather couch, throw pillow

 

 

 


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