After the storms roll out, as the clouds remain, filtering the light of day, colors wash the sky as surely as day is done.
I learned that the first time I left, as a youngster traveling with my parents to Michigan and then Tennessee, where horizons are filled with trees, or water. From the moment I arrived there, looking out in the distance, I loved the blue hues of mountains covered with green pine, but I missed the vast open land of the prairie where I called home. Every year, as vacation time ended and we rolled the motorhome along the highway headed home, sun would drift low in the skies and clouds or not, a glimmer of open prairie came into view as we arrived home. Horizons as distant as the eye could see, so far away you could see the curvature of the earth, and huge open, blue skies above.
Linda Bourne captures the essence of the prairie in her photos. Low hung balls of fire, dancing colors, and clouds drifting wide across open prairies remind me of those days long ago, as we arrived home.