At the moment I am writing this from a hotel in Ypsilanti, Michigan, I imagine Mt. Tam about to emerge from the darkness at the start of another day. Only that this picture happened to be taken at sunset. If one thing this project has taught me so far into the year is to pay closer attention to the way the light teases different aspects of the landscape into play at different times of the day through the seasons.
Today we are off to Cincinnati and about to dive into a whirlwind of family activities in celebration of a big event for one family member. Mt. Tam will likely recede from my awareness until it’s time to post, probably late in the evening, after the first of the family gathering.
And, as I pick up the thread here, it’s now dark outside, though not much cooler yet. The heat this morning, when I first stepped into it, took my breath away. It also took away much of the clarity of things I wanted to write about, even if those things happened to concern only vague reflections, apropos of the reflected mountain in the picture. Something along the lines of how reflections bring into focus the outline of things that aren’t there but may be solid and grounded elsewhere … like looking in the rearview mirror on the long hot drive seeing my grown children sitting there, each into his own world, and in my mind the reflection is that of a long time ago, from when they were young and relentlessly talking, back when I wanted the noise to subside dreaming of the day that will come, and here now I am the day here and the silence so deafening, so numbing.