Friday evening in the air

I sat on the stone steps, the mountain in the distance to the right, enveloped in cloud, and, to the left, the glow of the sun as it set. Poppies scattered red dots against the wall behind me. There was a Friday night feel in the air.

I photographed the burnt orange light as it moved across the pitch, shadows long and dark, the dandelions whose time had already passed and him, once we got home, against the wild roses.