Rachel and I were in her kitchen talking about 6:00 last night when she glanced out the window and said "LOOK!" The bare tree behind her neighbor's house was entirely gold as were some shrubs. We went to the front and looked out and it seemed all the trees across the street had also been touched by King Midas. She took these photos with her IPad and sent them to me.
Painters and local people talk about "Cape Light" which is often glorious, but we had never seen this kind of gold at sunset. The the top photo we are looking south, in the bottom photo we are looking east. A quick glance would make you think there is a huge fire in the bottom picture.
The bottom photo reminds me of a picture I saw recently of a huge solar flare that occurred a couple of days ago.
In writing class yesterday, Mert offered a blank verse description of sunrise. I knew exactly what he was talking about. especially since our clock "sprang ahead" I have been watching sunrises. My windows look due east. I think Kipling was wrong in his simile "like thunder out of China 'cross the bay". Gorgeous, yes, and a moment comes when the golden half-circle of the sun seems to spring full circle from behind the still bare trees (some fir trees are on the horizon too). I've been trying to think of a better simile -- yes, I dare think this memorized, often quoted line of poetry sounds magnificent but isn't quite true. The full sun suddenly blinds me -- more like lightening than thunder, but that's not really right either. Can't offer anything....
But Mert did explain, which, in truth I don't understand, why within a week the place on the horizon from which the sun rises has moved definitely northward. A week or slightly more ago it was directly in front of me. Now it's over to the left several degrees. Says Mert, "the timing near the solstice is a sine curve; so it does appaer to change positions more rapidly than it does near the equinoxes." Okay -- I see it, but I need much more explanation if I am to understand.
Although, in truth, I don't need any explanation. I look at the colors spreading across the sky -- that wonder holds my attention each morning.
You know those ads for fancy ski resorts where a lovely young woman lies on a chaise in the snow, clad but obviously sunbathing in the brilliant snow while looking toward the mountain slopes? I think that's what these Canadian geese are doing. Soaking up the reflected rays while the person on the right is digging out his or her car which looks like a small mountain there. This may be -- I hope will be -- the last snow picture of the year. The day I took this picture my car was much like the one in the picture. When I went out to get my snow brush to tackle the inches burying my car, I found I could not even get into the car to retrieve the brush -- beneath the snow the car was encased in ice and I could not pull the door open although I heard it unlock. So I brushed off what snow I could with hands and outstretched arm, went into the house and hung my clothes up to dry and then took my cue from the geese. I waited for the sun to do its work. Three hours later most of the snow was falling off the car and the ice had melted. Inside the car was reasonably warm, probably in the high 40s or low 50s. Such is March in New England this winter.
Another ten inches Thursday, on after a few hours of rain. I've never had a car totally iced over so that I could not open the doors -- until yesterday morning. The sun came out bright and happy. I swept off the fluffy snow. By 11:30 the sun did it's work, I could get into my car.
Meanwhile the geese, like our summer beach visitors, seem to enjoy settling on the snow and sunbathing. I saw one guy with a baggie of bread pieces feeding them.
This picture shows how the snow drifts up to the building, actually higher than the windows. And the narrow shoveled walkway is a ditch in the snow. In the afternoon my daughter came over with two shovels. We set about clearing what is really three parking spaces in the area of the lot I like to park in. We rememberted this kind of work in the long ago past when she was in high school and we lived in the snow belt of upstate New York. She reminded me that one of my first publications in a regional (not really national) magazines was a tongue-in-cheek article about snow shoveling in Yankee Magazine. And I reminded her that fifteen years before that I had published my first article in a national magazine called Baby Talk, which is still a freebie; in that long ago era long before Pampers, the magazine came with diaper services. But I digress.
Maybe this is our last snow of the year here in New England. Records have been broken! But I have seen big snowfalls in April so... we'll wait and see.
The mid-70s are a surprise! Part of me remains in the 50s -- age, I mean, not decade of 20th century. It's a joy ride, new experiences land in my lap and I've become a better quilter, poet, writer than I expected. It's a rich life for a person never rich financially. Hey, this is what the mid-70s are like!