It’s not winter yet, but tell that to the sky. The light is brief and thin these days, and I find myself drawn to its comings and goings. My photos from the last few weeks are a series of sunrises from the front porch and moonrises from the field down below, all sky and a bit of a frame.
We’ve reached the bottom of the sine curve of light, where it feels like the world has grown dark and still; September’s rapidly changing light is a distant memory and I have to remind myself that the days will get longer again in time. The afternoons have essentially stalled out and will begin turning back in just over a week, but it will be another month until the mornings turn. That asymmetry between the turn in sunrise and sunset is still a marvel to me. Well, a marvel on the good days. A personal affront on the rest. There will likely be more decidedly unexciting photos of sunrises in the weeks ahead as I try to cultivate a little more marvel while we watch the last 18 minutes of morning light turn to dark before the return begins.