I’m sure all of you have walked up the road in the evening, toward the setting sun, completely blinded by the rays.
You’re staring befuddled into the bright rays of dying sunlight, unable to see anything straight ahead except the Light of the Heavens.
You squint. You frown. You wonder if sunglasses might help, if you owned any.
You wonder if you should continue with eyes closed, hands in front of your face, groping. You wonder if you should simply stare at the road and allow the feet to lead the way. Obviously the eyes can’t see a darn thing.
When, suddenly, you look over at the dying plants alongside the road. The plants are dying as September edges toward its waxing moon. The ferns look ragged wearing yellow and brown tatters, although some still sport green overcoats.
The sun! Look at the way the light plays on the leaves. Some photographers say that light is magic; that light in the early morning and late evening gleams special from the sun. I am still not cognizant enough of light’s alluring qualities, but tonight I felt drunk with the golden rays.
Unseeing from the blinding light straight ahead, I wandered sideways to kneel by ferns and thimbleberries leaves bigger than an open hand. I followed light like it was the evening’s savior, stumbling in the ditch, spotting an illuminated tuft of grass here and there, following the magnificent rays wherever they chose to lead.
Then it became utterly paramount to forget the rest of the evening walk. Must turn around and scamper home, to upload onto the computer and see if the photos captured even a tiny essence of the glorious light.
But, hark! Who goes there? Look at that shadow! Look at the length of those legs! This evening sun is a trickster extraordinaire tonight, crafting and creating its own magnified world.
Let’s stop running for a moment. Catch our breaths. How about a little shadow play? Some yoga poses? Some jumping jacks?
What makes the light so magical at this time of day?
Why does the lower angle of sunlight contain so much golden light, so much intrigue?
The answer, dear reader, is I’m sure…Blowing in the Wind.
(And here ends our songs–and light–for the day. We’ll see you at dawn’s early light. Oh say can you see…?)