The daylight hours are wonderfully longer now. On a clear morning, the sun peaks over the horizon at 6 a.m., turning the snowy mountaintops hues of pastel pink and purple. The frigid water, except for the rough wake fanning from a lone fishing boat, softly ripples from the incoming tide. The morning sun outlines the depths and shallows of the underwater landscape; some expanses are placid and reflect the whitish-blue of the mountains, other areas are darker; wavering between shades of the cloudless canopy and shadowy bottom.At 7:30 p.m., the sun takes a slow, sweet departure from the village. The events before, during and after the lingering farewell are a desperate act of memorizing or recalling the elusive backdrop. No earthly device or word can capture or describe the beauty. The black night gives way to sliver moon and fickle Venus, and a personal hope that tonight the two heavenly bodies will find strength to hold back the clouds, the rain and the snow; to keep clear the path for the sun to reign down and present its celestial bliss once more.
No comments:
Post a Comment