Ed Bergen jumped from his chair in front of the television showing that political ad for the third time in the past half hour.
“Damn, I missed The Golden Hour again,” he said, camera in hand as he ran to the patio door.
Looking up from her book, his wife Kate asked, “What’s The Golden Hour?”
“It’s the time just before sunset, where daylight’s redder and softer than when the sun’s higher in the sky. It would’ve made all our leaves look like pure gold,” Ed replied with a crestfallen look.
“And this is important because…?”
“It’s important to a nature photographer like me, that’s all,” Ed said. He returned to his seat just as that other political ad, calling the previous one a pack of lies, appeared again.
“I think it’s more important to the guy who still hasn’t raked up all those leaves out back. You said you were going to do it Saturday,” Kate said.
“And even more have fallen since then. So why should I do all that work twice when I can do it once if I wait?” Ed said as he muted the fourth showing of that first ad.
“Your logic stinks, Ansel Adams,” Kate said while she turned on the outside lights, turning the backyard into a golden wonderland.
“Adams worked in black and white.”
“It’s just not the same, Katie. You wouldn’t understand,” Ed said, flipping the channel.
“Of course not, Eddie,” Kate said, switching off the lights.