4pm, Martin Luther King Trail, Columbia. The way the sun is sitting in the sky at this hour makes the lines on every leaf razor sharp, makes the colors on the leaves sharp too, if it is even possible for colors to be sharp. (Answer: yes, it is possible.) The contrasts on this trail are so intense, they make everything surreal. The light has this way of making things much more than they were before — or perhaps the light just makes them exactly what they are. After ignoring these things for so long, the light makes it impossible to not notice the subtle curvature of a barren twitching branch in the wind, or the flickering glimmer of dew along so many blades of grass, or the people walking hand in hand along the marsh on the edge of the horizon.
“If we had a keen vision and feeling of all ordinary human life, it would be like hearing the grass grow and the squirrel’s heart beat, and we should die of that roar which lies on the other side of silence.” — George Eliot