There
is such a thing as the quality of sunlight. We casually write,
“It was a sunny day” as if everybody knows precisely what we mean. But have you
ever really looked at the day?—
—at
the cold sun rising up over a dew-speckled lawn
—into
the sweaty-fisted nudge of a scalding desert afternoon
—across
the rippled water at the autumn-colored sunset sky
—deep
into the blink of a green flash
—down
at the mottled pattern of shadow and light under a tree
—through
the highest boughs of a fir tree lit like Christmas
—in
between the red-tinged temples in a foreign land
—obscure,
clear white, moonlike in the winter’s haze
—tempered
by a breeze, shining yellow like a clichéd drawing
The
sunlight spills and gushes, dots and dashes, is hidden or blares. In each
country, on each continent, the quality of sunlight changes, too. Seasons
beckon a new form of sunlight, or none at all.
And
in its wake is created ecstasy or despair, fear and frenzy, calm, awe, joy … in
the small humans who tend to forget the glorious, life-giving and
life-sustaining power of the daytime orb.
It seems like we
ought to practice giving voice to the multitudes of expressions that “sunlight”
conveys. It seems like we ought to practice, first, seeing and feeling the nuanced
qualities that depend upon geography, time, pollution or pristineness, awareness
…
I notice today
that the midsummer sun washes the sky milky soft blue; turns the tops of leaves
fluorescent yellow, their bottoms blacky green; makes dark silhouettes of
birds. The day dawned faintly pink but has blossomed into a burnt metallic
blue.white.yellow; yes, I am weaker than the sun who just shut my silly eyes
that attempted a peek at the right-now of late afternoon blaze. I surrender to
the sun. Not in defeat, but in supplication, in homage, in gratitude. Let us
remember her evershifting presence …
All blog images created & photographed by Jennifer J. Wilhoit unless otherwise noted. Please circulate images with photo credit: "©2017 JenniferJWilhoit/TEALarbor stories. AllRightsReserved."
