Some days, the #morninglight isn't as bright as on other days, but it can still be as warm as an Irish-knit Aran throw. These are the days when you should be a warm blanket for others, comforting them through the darkening days of Autumn as we shuffle along toward winter's solstice. Well get there soon enough, it's barely a month to away. Keep the faith. Stay warm.
The shimmering quality of the #morninglight could only be adequately captured with a moving image. This is reflected light, coming in through a North-facing window, a rare treat, thanks to the windshield of an automobile parked 200 yards away, through a tree, over a fence, and across a fair distance. Imagine all the forces of the universe that pulled together in just the right alignment and direction at just the right time to cause this flickering moment of #morninglight which began its journey from the sun 92.96 million miles away. I am humbled to observe it.
Today's #morninglight is only possible because I forgot to cover the keyboard as I should have. This raised questions regarding the dimensionality of light: it doesn't have sound, for you cannot hear a sunrise; it has no flavor for you cannot taste brightness; it has no scent, for you cannot smell a sunbeam; and you can never touch the #morninglight, because you create a shadow by doing so, and all you are touching is a surface that the light itself once touched. The #morninglight is embarked upon a one way journey from the sun. All one can do is try to find it, see it, and feebly describe how it briefly it has tried to enlighten us.
Today's #morninglight only lasted a moment, like most of days. There usually isn't even enough time to start making the morning tea before it's gone. You must carry the camera with you always, for you never know when the moment will disappear. Afterward, you can start the tea making, and enjoy it all the more.
Some days the #morninglight is more alive than I feel, especially when I haven't slept well the night before because of a pulled muscle in my back. Today, this dancing light caught my eye and said na-na-na-boo-boo right to my face. So I closed the curtain and shut it up. Not today, sunlight. Not today.
Just do it!
There was a lot of incense used during the Sunday service yesterday, a rare occasion. There is a tiny gap somewhere in the clerestory stained glass window, and at certain times in the year, a tiny sunbeam pierces the darkeness within. Yesterday, the beam caught the cloud of incense just right for #morninglight
These brilliant tree colors across the street from my house have been seeping through the windows and painting my walls.
A closer view. And somebody once said recently that I should pack it all away. Nahhhhh. It's way too nice for a box in the basement. There's enough room for one wine glass per person when sitting nearby. More than enough space, but there's never enough wine.
#afternoonlight may be considered cheating by my #morninglight fans, but I don't much care. What looks like curling vapors of smoke or steam wafting above the crystal is the light reflecting off the facets as they wrestle with the sunlight for dominance. If course, we know who will will that battle; still, though, it's nice to consider that they might one day win it all.
Today's #morninglight stood up and said: "notice me," so I had no choice in the matter. Three quarters of the office bookshelf are tinged in blue from the curtains that hang in the window. But I left one small section left open to gain some brightness at my desk. Across the street from my house stands a very tall redgum tree, which overnight turned from Green to Golden. The one quarter of the bookshelf that is bathed in reflected light, therefore, comes from that glorious tree. It's big enough to change the world. It's changed me on many days, and will hopefully do so for many more to come. Find your tree.