.a sliver of light.

 With the short days of fall - almost winter, my hikes are limited to the weekends during the shrinking afternoon window of not early morning freezing temps but before the 4 pm darkness. The darkness always feels shocking every year. The limited light put a sense of urgency into the day. I think maybe others slow down, but I'm so hungry to get out and walk the land. I went for a quick hike near my house this weekend. I was working on a project and then realized it was 2:30PM, so I dropped what I was doing knowing that I would have only a hour or so of light left for a walk. The path is on the north side of the hillside so it was already out of the path of the sun, but I began to notice the tiny sliver of light that draped on the surrounding hillsides. Just a peek of light. 

Winter is not my favorite season or even a season I enjoy most of the time, but I'm always in awe to experience the transition of place in a season. The impermanent art of nature.

.yellow reflections.

I went on my favorite nature walk by the river this weekend. When I got the end of the trail I realized that the water level was so low there's now a little patch of sand to stand on, almost a beach. I walked down to the river to watch the ripples distort the reflection of the vibrant yellow trees. The days are quickly fading into the dark, and yet, we still have the yellow of fall. The final burst of color. I found the yellow reflections so captivating. 

I've also been experimenting with weaving polished hemp. It's such a rigid materials. I wasn't sure it would work, so I tried it on my lap loom. It worked. I really like the structure and spacing of the material. I think I might try it on my rigid heddle next. 

.8:32 pm.

It’s 8:32 pm and the sky is still bright and the land illuminated.
The time just before the sky turns into a warm orange/yellow color, the last burst of the day.
The crickets have started their mediative chants and the faintest scurries of attic mice can be heard. Yet, there’s still a few more moments of day.
It feels like days could last forever in May, almost June.
I wonder -
how I ever survive winter?
if I can hold onto this time month/season?
how I can forget the magic of light and late nights every year?
The days always seem longer than last, like a forgotten dream.
8:45 pm and the gray sky begins to settle in, the goodbyes made
another day
I heard Joy Harjo speak a few years ago, she said that sunset was the time to thank the day
and then let it go
the day and all its contents are gone, not to return
we can only be here
moving forward

.open lands + light.

I've been staying in a log cabin the past 10 days, it's east off the highway a good ten minutes if you drive 50 mph on the 35 mph roads. There's no cell phone service out here just an open valley of land and incredible views of the snow capped mountains in the distance. It's beautiful out here, no street lights to pollute the night sky, just the soundtrack of the flooded river rushing through the cottonwoods and the chorus of birds chirping. I've savored the early mornings watching the sun rise and stretch over the mountains in the east and slowly make its way to the west throughout the day with the sun rays and shadows dancing thru the cabin until once again the pitch black settles in for the night. Yesterday a storm was coming through and the land illuminated a bright blue-grey color and I realize how in the open land I am able to see and feel the many variations of the land.  Unlike the city where the buildings and light overpower and distract us from experiencing the subtleties of a place. The overexposed washed out morning light that makes the mountains melt into a mix of colors that slowly clarify into the mid-morning shadows of the hillside that start to illuminate the individual trees and the colors separated to various shades of greens and some burnt orange from last summers fire. The shadows drape over the hillside bringing depth to the curves and as the sun starts dropping down behind, sinking into the west a muted earth tone come over the trees, the definition of the land is gone, just a bold emerald presence until the mellow shadows of green fade to black and we wait to see what tomorrow will look like, all over again but different, always different.