Sunday, September 16, 2012

Equinox: Storing Light

Equinox -- that pivital moment when daylight is so much shorter than it was at the solstice that something has to be done to prepare for the gathering darkness and accompanying melancholy. What to do (other than making good soups from freshly harvested fruits and vegetables)? Store up potential light and heat.

8 feet high, 8 feet long. This ought to get us through the winter.

Over this past week I re-read Sam's and my Wild Rides, Wildflowers manuscript and notice that about this time every fall we noted that the light was richer. I had the same feeling this morning walking with Blue and wondered just why it feels richer.

One answer, the one that any photographer would think of, is that when light slants through more atmosphere colors get richer. Early morning light and evening light is just more interesting.

Overlaying that physical reality is the subjective mood that approaching winter brings with it. The light is more precious this time of year.

Finally, there may be something about the browns and yellows, still in the context of the green oaks, that enhances the light. The rabbitbrush is in full bloom right now, beseiged by hundreds of bees, and bright and light and cheering in their bounty.



So do you have a beehive to collect honey in?? and did you cut that fire wood yourself? as to the light, i entirely agree but suspect that the answer is another. afternoon and morning light has to penetrate larger quantities of air no matter the time of year? maybe it is that the briliance of the later afternoon sun comes so much earlier in the day? x mr

Scott Abbott said...

okay, i've been found out.

had i been a bit younger, i would have cut and split that wood myself. but this load was delivered by A-1 Tree Service in a pickup.

i did, however, stack it.

that's interesting about the afternoon light coming earlier in the day. makes sense to me.


In 1985/ I still took down a tree, a Douglas fir in the Sacramentoes and prepared it for our fireplace. but i dont think i could split that much wood any more on me own.

i think what's odd about the light shooting into our eyes in fall is that it suddenly comes from unexpeceted places... but shouldn't that also be the case in spring??

Scott Abbott said...

in 1980 i cut down some extremely fragrent trees in princeton (what were they?). each cut of the saw brought scents to die for.

i think that awareness that winter is coming has something to do with how we see/experience fall light.