August 29, 2017 – The days are getting shorter. This is especially noticeable as the rhythms and patterns of the Earth shift compared to the unchanging patterns of the human day. I sit on my couch in the early morning as I write this, looking out the sunroom windows to the east and notice the differences in the light now–both in quantity and quality–compared to a few weeks ago. Now, 6:00 AM is all dim, misty, pale dawn with crickets still softly chirping and the neighbor’s backyard light still on. Just a few weeks ago, bright rays of sun would have already been poking through the trees, and the morning would have been bright, sharp, and noisy. Birds would have been chattering and swooping, going about their morning business. This time of year, even when the morning is well under way, the light never seems to have that hot, intense sharpness; it’s more warm, radiant, and golden.
This morning’s sky is clear–peaceful and serene, but not as dramatic as a partly cloudy sky. Light needs a companion–a towering cumulonimbus, a high mountain peak, a hillside carpeted with autumn trees–to create drama and awe.
Without the light, there are no amazing landscape or skyscape views. And without land and sky objects, the light just continues on its journey, uninterrupted by interesting features.
I think most often we prefer to have things to look at, objects that catch our eye and focus our attention. But, an “empty sky” has its own special beauty, giving us a glimpse of the vastness, the immensity, the infinity that is our world and our universe.