A good storm cloud full of lightning

• Posted by Bertram John March 24, 2012 - Filed in Arts & Culture - #Cheap Oakleys  - 1,136 views

  As the day draws to a close, shadows, wondrous fake oakley sunglasses, black, and thick, like those of the morning, fill up the wall hollows, while the glowing rocks, their rough angles burned off, seem soft and hot to the heart as they stand submerged in purple haze, which now fills the canyon like a sea.  Still deeper, richer, more divine grow the great walls and temples, until in the supreme flaming glory of sunset the whole canyon is transfigured, as if all the life and light of centuries of sunshine stored up and condensed in the rocks was now being poured forth as from one glorious fountain, flooding both earth and sky.

  Strange to say, in the full white effulgence of the midday hours the bright colors grow dim and terrestrial in common gray haze; and the rocks, after the manner of mountains, seem to crouch and drowse and shrink to less than half their real stature, and have nothing to say to one, as if not at home.  But it is fine to see how quickly they come to life and grow radiant and communicative as soon as a band of white clouds come floating by.  As if shouting for joy, they seem to spring up to meet them in hearty salutation, eager to touch them and beg their blessings.  It is just in the midst of these dull midday hours that the canyon clouds are born.

  A good storm cloud full of lightning and rain on its way to its work on a sunny desert day is a glorious object.  Across the canyon, opposite the hotel, is a little tributary of the Colorado called Bright Angel Creek replica oakley sunglasses.  A fountain-cloud still better deserves the name "Angel of the Desert Wells"--clad in bright plumage, carrying cool shade and living water to countless animals and plants ready to perish, noble in form and gesture, seeming able for anything, pouring life-giving, wonder-working floods from its alabaster fountains, as if some sky-lake had broken.  To every gulch and gorge on its favorite ground is given a passionate torrent, roaring, replying to the rejoicing lightning--stones, tons in weight, hurrying away as if frightened, showing something of the way Grand Canyon work is done.  Most of the fertile summer clouds of the canyon are of this sort, massive, swelling cumuli, growing rapidly, displaying delicious tones of purple and gray in the hollows of their sun-beaten houses, showering favored areas of the heated landscape, and vanishing in an hour or two.  Some , busy and thoughtful-looking, glide with beautiful motion along the middle of the canyon in flocks discount oakleys, turning aside here and there, lingering as if studying the needs of particular spots, exploring side canyons

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  , peering into hollows like birds seeding nest-places,  or hovering aloft on outspread wings.  They scan all the red wilderness, dispensing their blessings of cool shadows and rain where the need is the greatest, refreshing the rocks, their offspring as well as the vegetation, continuing their sculpture, deepening gorges and sharpening peaks.  Sometimes, blending all together, they weave a ceiling from rim to rim, perhaps opening a window here and there for sunshine to stream through, suddenly lighting some palace or temple and making it flare in the rain as if on fire.