Light Flowing

Observing a sunset from the Blue Ridge Parkway one evening, I was entranced by the beautiful quality of the light. It became fluid, in motion, betraying its usual unbending path to follow the contours of the land.

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Light flowing; through storm cloud and new rain. Light flowing; soft. over ancient, worn, rounded, mountain ridge as if feeling the need to caress lovingly these hills that have seen so much.

Much like water, flowing slowly down slope. Filling each crevice and cove of these rolling, retreating ridge lines. Illuminating and obscuring with light and shadow. Gossamer, insubstantial, a veil gently offered.

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I am here, a part of this moment unfolding. Once again In awe of beauty as dusk proceeds. Foreground in dark silhouette, distant ridge still bathed in light. A gentle rain greeted me, cool, refreshing, removing the heat of lower elevations. Lovely scent of forest and soil, breeze to be savored.

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Light flowing into life. Infusing energy into blade, leaf, and stem. A cycle begun.

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Dusk, Mountainside. The atmosphere takes on spectral qualities. Clouds and sky now principal players, shape shifting, glowing. Acting out the final moments of this special light.

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Time flowing; night into day, day into day. Illusory but helpful, marking our places as we travel. Leaving my outpost as light fades, at peace, I return to the campground for sleep with the rising moon.

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Dawn, Mountainside.

Rising before dawn, driving along the Parkway to be at Green Knob Overlook for sunrise. A large animal disappearing into the brush at the edge of my lights, Bear? This pre-dawn light is so blue, slowly bringing color back into the landscape from the nights black and gray. Dawn is a sweet time, quiet, alone, personal, full of anticipation and hope.

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Lavender fills the crevices and coves of last night. Life awakens.

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Early morning, Streamside.

Water flowing; infused with light as it falls, carrying light with it as it seeks the downward path. Raindrop to rivulet, creek to stream, ever widening, moving. Taking with it parts of these old mountains, memories and songs, sand and soil. Returning. Luminous as it flows over rock and ledge in the low light of early morning.

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Water. So precious.

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Dawn, Soundside.

Sea level now. Days have passed. Days that have seen water make its way Mountain to Plain to Sea. Into Estuaries, nursery of the seas. Life’s beginnings.

The light brought with mixes with fresh and brine water. Light that flows still, following current and upwellings, deep recesses, seen again one day as phosphorescence behind my paddle stroke.

A pre-dawn trip to seashore, Willow Pond and Soundside trail. Walking through Maritime forest in darkness, birdsong just beginning. Loblolly Pine, Live Oak, Wax Myrtle, Yaupon, line the path. The breeze is salty, warmer here.

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Core Sound, South Core Banks. Ocean. Blue light, illuminated sky, reflected. Who sits on these seats, who watches this sunrise? What do they tell themselves, what do they tell each other?

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Tidal flats, rising water covering shells. Sea life accustomed to ebb and flow. The sand and soil of long ago mountains deposited here.

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Sun getting higher, lavender and yellow with blue. Open water. I walk along the shore, enjoying the emerging day. Low angled sidelight casting it’s glow upon tree and grass.

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