Monday, November 23, 2015

A Shift in Light

Light is a fickle beast. It comes and goes with the movement of time, of earth, of clouds. You can wake up knowing weather by light itself. Sometimes light nudges you gently. "Get up." It whispers. "Go. Look." And what you see is a world of quilt batting, gently rolling filament over rock and twig and road.

In the summer light is harsh, a beating from Apollo, a raining warmth that can grow a garden and set sensitive skin aflame. Spring light is muddled through storm clouds. It casts a green glow over the windowsill and flaps with the shifts in cloud and leaf. Autumn light, o fleeting! It's sometimes orange and sometimes yellow and sometimes the color of fog. Autumn light moves, creeps over the back of your couch and BAM hits you in the eyes. Autumn light differs by day, by moment. It can come through the bedroom window today, enter by living room tomorrow.

I love the way light shifts from one season to the next. Autumn light is the most interesting. This morning it peeped from behind a cloud and hit the orange throw, setting it on fire. Yesterday it lit the bedroom in a symphony of white showing every errant strand of cat hair. Tomorrow it may yet dapple the walls and split open the blinds; one never really knows in autumn.

My favorite light is the light of winter. It's crisp, cold, blue-tinged weathering that fingers you with icy awareness. Fleeting as it is in the South, winter light sings of snowfall and I have memories of precious mornings as a child when by the light alone I woke and KNEW it had snowed during the night.

Today I am thankful for the light that illuminates our tiny cottage. It shows the dust and cat hair, reminds me where to clean. It angles (angels?) around my books and collections reminding me of the blessings of lovely little things. I am thankful for the light of words that shifts with the reader, diffusing the soul into a thousand wings of thought. I am thankful for the light of others as it shows me where I falter and where, on the rare occasion, I shine.

Happy Monday, Dears!


  1. Jen, what a cool post on light. And shine on!

  2. I like the crispness of winter light as well. No humidity, so the air is clear and the colors vibrant.

  3. Lovely :It whispers. "Go. Look." And what you see is a world of quilt batting, gently rolling filament over rock and twig and have such writing that fills my mind with images.

  4. The light in winter is the best. It can be midnight, but the full moon on fresh snow makes it seem full daylight. An old memory.

  5. I really loved this post. :) Also, I really love the old books in your background right now. They make me feel like I'm in the back of a library alone just running my hands across the pages.

  6. Stephen: Thanks so much for reading and stopping by! And for the kind comment :)

    Alex: Ah yes, no humidity! That's a rare occurrence here and we love it when it FINALLY happens!

    Susan: Thank you so much!! And I always loved walking in the snow at night, especially under the light of a full moon. It lit up everything around you, illuminating the world in silver. Lovely!

    Jennifer: Thank you so much! I love this new background. Makes me want to dive into a vat of old books!


Well, hello! I'm so glad you made it. Come inside and sit by the hearth. I'll take your coat and hat. The kettle is singing and there's cake and candles and good conversation. Settle in and make yourself at home. Don't mind the wolfhounds; they're friendly if you give them a bit of lemon curd.