Sweet August, great rounds of baled hay in the eastern Ontario highlands, deer and wild turkeys feeding under the trees at dawn and dusk, shadows stretching long skinny fingers across farm fields at the end of the day, the setting sun viewed through strands of timothy, barley and tall white bush clover...
Shadows slanting across the landscape lengthen, grow sharper and deeper as days grow shorter. As if to compensate for waning daylight hours, northern sunsets light up the horizon in gold, inky blue and purple, perfect molten light and technicolor clouds.
The evening sun flames amazement as it drops below the horizon. I have always loved the words "I flamed amazement", spoken by the air spirit Ariel in William Shakespeare's The Tempest, (Act I, Scene 2). The expression seems just right for a balmy late summer evening when the setting sun is putting on a blazing show, and there is magic in the air.
For the mariners of Shakespeare's play, Ariel's performance was St. Elmo's fire, a fey glow that sometimes appears around ship masts, church spires and chimneys during storms, and from time to time, the leading edge of aircraft wings. Its appearance was thought to be a good omen, a sign that the ship and its crew were under the protection of St Erasmus of Formia (St. Elmo), patron saint of seafarers. Science tells us otherwise. The phenomenon is a corona discharge (ionized air) generated during a thunder storm, and there is no fire hazard. Splendid, spooky stuff though.
Beau and I lean against a fence in the western field, and camera and lens can scarcely take in all the riches on offer. The setting sun dazzles as it drops out of sight behind the trees on the far side, and the waxing gibbous moon seems lit from within. The moon has no light of her own and borrows it from the sun, but it always seems otherwise to us at this time of the year.
The light at the end of an August day is enough to make one swoon in delight. I would give almost anything for a sari in such glorious, elemental colors.
2 comments:
Ah, I once had a brilliant fuchsia sari given to me by a brother-in-law who traveled to India. I tried wearing it traditional style, but didn't have the upper half so always looked awkward in it. Eventually cut up and used elsewhere, but it had this wonderful border of gold threads. Good memory which you've elicited from your words about sunset. Have a great Friday!
Beautiful writing, Cate. As the daylight shortens and before the sun blazes out, this is the most glorious of the season.
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