In our back yard, about an hour before sunset, there is a pocket of perfect light.



It took me three years of living here to notice it.


And now, I can’t get enough.


On days when the sun is peeking through the winter clouds, I catch myself waiting for the kids to get home so I can come up with an excuse just to hang out in it.


“Hey, what did you do today at school? Want to go outside and act it out? You could stand on the right of the big tree. And maybe try to be facing East?”

Oh, Golden Hour.

I know it’s a little shameful. But how do I resist that light? Can you really blame me?

Dirty Feet and Sun

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