Alleluiah!

There's a big old cross around the corner from my house that towers high over the landscape, poking up into the rarefied air reserved for skyscrapers, cell towers, water towers, and Mormon temples. Early odds had it that this monument was, in fact, a cell tower. A couple of other churches in town had already monetized their monuments, and given the prime location next to the cross-town expressway, it seemed a logical step. Except this cross was no golden idol. Central Florida Baptist Church built it as a beacon of faith -- and a nifty navigational landmark. "Look to the cross," and turn right.

At first I wasn't sure what to think about having my neighborhood high ground, near Gotha, turned into a gol-darned Golgotha, until I saw the cross backlit one stormy evening at sunset. I keep meaning to get back and stake out a spot the next time the light is right. But in the meantime, this will have to suffice. I shot this back in August, but have been holding onto it for the right moment. After Darlyn and I went to hear the wonderful free performance of Handel's Messiah last night at The Bob Carr, the time seemed right.

The Good Stuff:

Sacred Music
Renaissance Art
Cinnamon pecans
Freshly washed cars
A week full of possibilities
Holiday spirit
Morning rain
Sunny and 70 degrees
Hot apple cider
Crawfish etouffee