Red Morning

I had a red morning recently.  In answer to cooler and cloudier days rolling in, the joints in my feet, and probably my hands, complained--but I wasn't awake.  Instead, I perceived my body from a distance, with a rectangle of red between me and it.   And the red was my body, and the red interpenetrated my body, and the red blocked me from my body.  There was no action or occurrence in this perception; only a timeless, frozen red, and a sense of being stuck trying to put a jigsaw puzzle into a whole picture.  

When I woke up for real, the joints in my feet were very sore.  They've since recovered, but I can tell you, I sure hope this was something other than arthritis, because 40-something more years of this is not something I look forward to.  At least with working remotely, I can walk around in slippers or barefoot.

In other news, I've set up leaded crystals in the Writing Pavilion.  I'm hoping that on sunny days, I'll be able to draw the sides close together and have light shine through a gap onto the crystals.  Probably the inside won't become dark enough for a rainbow light show, but at least there will be the occasional dazzle.  When I tried to take a picture of the effect I am going for,  instead of capturing the green blaze of light, I managed a shot of my tea mug lit like a beacon.