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.

PHOTOS and SEEING

Does taking pictures keep me from seeing? 

When I thought of this before, I had in mind those hords of tourists snapping their cameras at whatever the tour guide is pointing at.

I also was thinking about pointing a camera and clicking the shutter in contrast to the process of looking, drawing, looking more carefully, drawing, looking again, drawing.

And finally, I thought about the contrast between me with my little camera set on automatic for snapshots (the OED says that "shot" has an early form of "scott") and the real photographers I know with their technical expertise, their ability to see and frame and light and choose focus and speed and then to develop or work digitally with the photo until they have a work of art.

Last night, however, sitting on the deck with a good book and a hoppy local IPA, I saw the light change out of the corner of my eye and turned to see this:

and then, this close-up view of the light in the sage

and then this to the east

and then the light in the rabbitbrush to the north

and then the light in the drying penstemons

with the maples red on the mountain

And finally, I thought I had been thinking the question of seeing and photography badly.

A real photographer could tell me how to make each of my photos better, no question about it.

But with the camera in my hand, I went from wonder to wonder, looking at the light, clicking the shutter, looking at the light, clicking, looking, clicking. 

I wasn't trying to be a photographer. I wasn't a tourist. I was trying to see. Trying to see the sage and the rabbitbrush. Trying to see the light. Trying to see the thing itself, not the photographic representation of the thing.

Of course, the photos remain after the seeing and then can be posted here to remind me of what I saw. But they are secondary. Last night I saw the light in and on and around the sage. It was thrilling.

Summer Solstice

From the vantage point of our house, we can see mountain ranges to the east and to the west, their silhouettes perfect for solstice alignment.

The top two photos are from last night, the bottom two from this morning. All show the sun's northernmost range as seen from here.

The second photo shows the long path (to the left of the setting sun) the sun has followed since the winter solstice, when it set up the hill to the left, farther to the left than the photo shows.

The third photo shows the same path since the winter solstice, this time to the right. We've watched the sun progress down into dips and then up to the mountain top and now down into a second dip over the past six months.

Abundant light, the most we'll have this year, ought to be celebrated with friends, and perhaps tonight with a dark imperial Russian stout called "Outer Darkness."

Because this is the day the sun will "stand" still (sol-stice), because it takes a while to gather speed again to wander south, there have been and will be several days of long sunlight to celebrate.

Winter Light, Starting with the Solstice Sunset

And ending with a sunset a week later, already creeping north.