Have you ever noticed the way the October leaves of aspen trees seem to absorb the light of the sun and combust from within, an inner fire that glows in flames of orange-gold? Or the particular blue of the sky in fall, in which it seems every particle of the atmosphere is saturated with that indigo wavelength? Or how the autumn sunshine rests gently on your skin, warming you all the way through?
Light threads through our days, nights, and seasons in myriad ways. The full moon’s light on Pearl Lake is bright enough to see by, but is so different from the light of day. Stars shine through the black sky and reflect from the depths of the dark water. The light from the moon casts a glimmering silver over the lake surface and tree tops. The moonlight hints at the mystery of things unseen, unknown.
Candlelight paints a wall in flickering shadow, warms and calms. The on-going play of flame is a study in shifting reality. Fairy lights strung through trees are festive, enticing and a celebration of the night. Firelight, primally satisfying, provides comfort in winter and crackling fun on a summer camping trip. Fickle spring sun coaxes the first crocus blooms: purple, white and yellow popping open between slender emerald stems.
Starlight is a reminder of faraway places and times. The luminescence we see tonight has taken many years to reach our eyes, and the dreams of our childhood stargazing might be distant memories. The light of the moon, waxing, waning, new and full, is a paradox of consistent change. Sunlight means warmth, energy and life for everything on earth, except for those innovative organisms who’ve adapted to feed on thermal energy from vents in the ocean floor.
The light at dawn growing steadily brighter in the eastern sky is our signal for a fresh start.
The light at day’s end, as it settles into its western-sky palette of breath-taking color, is a time of gratitude and awe.
Jacqueline Denny, ACC, CHPC, LMT