Dark Side of the Moon
Photo: Image Editor, Courtesy: Flickr
I live in rural Maine. More appropriately, I live on Uranus. I’m tired of hearing how beautiful Uranus is by those who only drop in for a short-term visit, the in and out crowd who cross the border into Neverland thinking they’ve found Nirvana. Yes, I know that all the billboards say “The Way Life Should Be,” but I’m telling you, don’t believe everything you read; it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.
Everyone has this romantic, warm and fuzzy notion of what life is like on Uranus. Granted, it’s tolerable for about eight weeks of the year, but try living there. It is dark and cold, and not all pine-scented. And don’t get me started on the black flies.
I envy those from Venus or Mars or Mexico who get out once in awhile and enjoy some sunshine without hip waders and earmuffs. I was going to post this paragraph into the descriptive sales ad for the listing of my home, but figured it might be better to let prospective buyers seek out their own little piece of paradise without my tarnished two cents. Yes, Uranus’ beaches are dramatic, rocky and mussel-strewn, but at times, as with life, they can be littered with a lot of flotsam and jetsam. One man’s Uranus is another man’s heaven. I think I’d rather wade through Mexico.
Rear Window ~ Front Terrace
Fireworks at La Parroquia
Photo: xinecj, Courtesy: Flickr
On the terrace, watching lightning flashing in the distance and behind the 16th century chapel spires, bats with three foot wingspans dart from the Parroquia towers and through the brilliant sparks of green, red and white fireworks celebrating the closing of the annual Cuban festival in the jardin. I sit alone in shadows with my red wine. From across the street I see a vision of a woman in white.
Next Page 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6
(Note: You can view every article as one long page if you sign up as an Advocate Member, or higher).
2
2
1
