Last weekend I embarked on the short hike from my Old Lake Highlands neighborhood to White Rock Lake, then ambled along the shoreline for a mile or so before swinging back up the escarpment to return home on a different tack.
I returned with the usual sorts of lakeside photos – piers, boats, trees – nothing particularly thrilling, just themed images tried and true and hopefully refined over the years of shooting similar images into something a bit more artistically appealing than when I first took up a camera and walked around this same lake several dozen years ago.
The highlight of the outing came near its end, when I’d stopped to wait for a safe crossing of the path upon which a stream of bicyclists zoomed at breakneck speeds, with seemingly more regard for their lap times than the safety of pedestrians sharing their trail.
A father and his two young sons had just come off the footbridge (aka bikebridge), having somehow managed to avoid being knocked senseless and run over by hurtling cyclists. The dad pointed back over his shoulder and said to the kids, “look at that weird cloud!”
And there it was – a seeming portal to another, weirder world. Downright Spielbergian, and meteorological explanations be damned.