Knowing shadows have existed always, or at least as long as we conceive always to be, feels to me like a connection with those who came before. From Neanderthals to the bog people to Muhammad to Louis XIV to me, we all know shadows, we all know late day, we all know summer days that get shorter and light that's made of gold.
19 comments:
Fiat tenebræ …
What a beautifully poetic post, Petrea. The shadow photograph is stunning.
Beautiful. Thanks. I keep re-drinking the second sentence.
JS, I love it when I have to look up what you say.
Thanks, Dive.
Glad you like it, Roberta.
Shadows are also timekeepers. It's only since accurate clocks came along - surprisingly recently - that we've managed to tell the time without them.
I love what you've written today.
"Only the Shadow knows." Nice post, nice photo, well written. You are getting pretty darn good at this blogging thing.
Thanks, Bellis. And you're right, you make me think of the stone circles of Britian.
Oh Steven, you are pretty darn good at this commenting thing.
Golden light on the late summer green, beautiful words to describe this time of year. Sometimes they just come together and you did it.
Lovely photo! I thought you were channeling Emily Dickinson:
Presentiment is that long shadow on the lawn
Indicative that suns go down;
The notice to the startled grass
That darkness is about to pass.
Speedway, right now we have tornado light. You know what I mean.
Linda, that's lovely. Would that I could channel Dickinson.
Oh, no! Not that black-y, green color with clouds roiling above, arguing among themselves? I thought you guys only got earthquake color, or maybe fire color.
Oh, there's a small church near here, with an "end of days" sign with a date and time: Saturday, 7 PM. I'm thinking of making a monthly project/post of it, "Yep, still here, etc.
No, it's more that yellowish-gray, flat sky. Pre-tornado, I guess. I don't think we're getting a tornado, it's just really hot. We might get rain, actually.
I love your recurring post idea.
Never thought this about shadows. Mine were stars. And walls of old buildings, especially when I was in Rome.
Great text and photo. Brava.
Thoughtful, poetic words and striking photo! What waits there in the shadows?
Old buildings, yes, Irina! And the moon.
I don't know the answer, Ms. M; perhaps it's for us to think about.
Wonderful post. I love that last sentence. Light that's made of gold is the best part of this time of year.
Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
(R.Frost, 1923)
This is something to think about and repeat each evening.
Shadows inspire poems.
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