Tonight, on the first night of the rest of my life, my newly Ohioan partner in badassery and I sped off into the countryside, heading to my favorite Loudonville eatery--only to find that it's moved on up the road to Wooster. I suppose that when you haven't been to a place in a year, you should call to make sure it's still there before you leave your own town. Fortunately, its place has been taken by a café that's also quite nice, if not quite the old Broken Rocks. Sated with our happy dinners, we sped homeward once again: she had the small girl to care for; I had an impending plumbing disaster (though I didn't know it yet).
When I saw how excellent the sunset was getting, she said, "Do you want me to pull over?" Because she knew: what I wanted, more than anything, was to shoot it, even if I couldn't quite make the perfect foreground register, even if the pastels in the sky weren't quite going to come right. She just knew, and that was just what I needed.