Sunday, December 12, 2010
If I were a poet I would write a beautiful piece about the silvery sunlight of winter solstice. The light at this time of year is so precious, not only because there isn't very much of it, but because it's unlike the light at any other time of year. Generally, sunlight is gold, right? In spring, it's a light green-gold, in summer: hot gold initially, that sinks slowly into a thick orange-ish color by August. When fall arrives, the sun becomes 18 karat melancholy gold. As winter approaches, the light thins out, grows paler and paler. By solstice, the sunlight is not gold. It is the color of clear quartz.
There's a way in which solstice sunlight seems not of this world. What a crazy thought. If I could write poetry, though, I would be able to convey what I mean. Maybe the pictures tell the whole story and there's no need for words here. Ya think?