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Posts from the nature Category

+ high-res version

This was created by a friend of mine who is a Landscape Architecture professor here in the College of Design. Basically he took the published data for the dates and times of the sunrise and sunset and created a chart. It shows the dates and times of the earliest SUNSET, after which the light lasts a little bit longer each evening. Also on the chart is the time of the latest SUNRISE, afterwhich the sunrise will begin rising a little bit earlier as the planet makes its way around the sun. Great graphic of this phenomenon, in my opinion. 🙂


On Nature and Words

Of course there are experiences of landscape that will always resist articulation, and of which words offer only a remote echo—or to which silence is by far the best response. Nature does not name itself. Granite does not self-identify as igneous. Light has no grammar. Language is always late for its subject. Sometimes on the top of a mountain I just say, “Wow.”

Robert Macfarlane lives in Cambridge and is author of The Wild Places and The Old Ways. The text that appears here is adapted from his book Landmarks, forthcoming from Trafalgar in June.

I remember how one day, on my way home from a late afternoon hike, sunlight hit a cloud hovering on the far ridge. The sunlight turned the cloud pink, and the cloud turned the Douglas firs and madrones pink, and turned the long grasses in the meadow pink, turned the red-dirt logging road pink, turned my hands and arms and skin pink. The whole world glowed like breeze-brightened ember. I stopped and stood there a second, gob-smacked, gawking, wondering many scenes just as mighty I had already witnessed and forgotten, and pitying myself for being alone, for having nobody with whom to share such transcendence. Then I heard a voice—an inner voice, like the one I listen to when I’m writing—and it said that the point wasn’t to remember any of this vision but live a life as beautiful. If I could do that, the voice reasoned, I would share this moment with everyone I met. And if I could do that, I was never really alone.

http://lithub.com/my-writers-idyll-is-busy-messy-full-life/# Author: Steve Edwards