I love this time of year. The light in the late afternoon is unlike any other time of year. It’s a burnished gold – mellow and quite warm, not the soft young yellow of a spring day or the sunshiny yellow of a brilliant summer afternoon. This light is a mature gold that comes from the experience of another year of the seasons.
I was sitting outside the other day in late afternoon as the sun made the shadows lengthen long and lean. The earth settled into a contented peace, and so I settled right in with it.
This light, as the warm late summer September day eased toward a cooler early autumn night, reminded me of a time years ago when I was standing in a vineyard in upstate New York, when this same gold light kissed everything in sight, and I felt such peace. The same peace I felt in this moment.
I closed my eyes, and I heard fish jump and plop back into the water of a nearby pond. Birds called to each other. The leaves rustling in a soft breeze sounded like a woman strolling in a satin dress. Crickets chirped, and the bees hummed as they went about their work.
I didn’t bother with a camera because some things, well, you just have to be there. You have to feel the breeze glide across your face as the sun throws its warm arms around you and hugs you tight.
You can describe peace and tranquility. You can talk about how to seek it. But you don’t really know it until it wraps you up in its cocoon and invites you to rest with it awhile.
© Lynn Wyvill 2012