A week of sun and too-warm temperatures (in the 70s) coming up--I'm not complaining. Just as winter may not be completely gone, spring is in the throes of arrival, trying out weathers.  It's stunning--novel and overwhelming.  We're drawn outdoors like long-pent critters, grateful for this merciful change we must suspect.

If suspicion's the price of this glorious light, this comforting warmth, I'll pay it. Not at all a problem.

But, always, it's the...fitting into the world, the adjustments of skin, eyes, and mind, feeling our way, like the fishes we are, through this changed sea we live in.

And with this bursting light, this extra layer the sun supplies (we take off our down jackets and sweaters to have this new coat of warmth put on us) come the shadows. Winter's shadows are stark, geometric, the spartan mathematics of the cold.  Spring's lush light is wholly other, bountiful---thus its shadows: elongated, spavined, convoluted, intricate, surprising, simple: the world that comes with light, light's other self, the world that lurks just out of range, in the corner of sight.   Presence and absence; absence as presence. So the world is twice enriched, deepened, haunted, in the daily metaphysics of the spring.

I can't wait to dive in.

10/27/2013 10:48:49 am

Great blog, enjoyed browsing through the site


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