Tuesday, December 14, 2004
I love winter light. In Leona Valley, the hillsides are furred with tawny grass that has all been bent over by the steady wind, and it all shines like a new creation as if each dry stalk is burning. The color is indescribable, a delicate tawny with silver highlights. You have to see it to believe it.
Water sparked below grey-barked alder trees. New grass, bright green, poked up through the old sticks and leaves. A few leaves still hung onto the sycamores.
You don't see this light in a city. And you certainly can't smell it. The mountains have a particular scent at this time of year, another indescribable sensation. Only out here is there space and time, and I wonder how many even notice shades of silver on the hillsides. I didn't when I got here. Desert is desert.
Now I know the truth. God's light shines and the world echoes.