Journal of a Sabbatical

December 19, 1999

light and shadow

Today's Bird Sightings:
Watchemoket Cove
136 ring-billed gulls
6 herring gulls
2 hooded mergansers
8 common goldeneyes
6 buffleheads
22 mallards
2 American black ducks
12 European starlings
2 domestic geese
33 Canada geese
85 mute swans

Today's Reading: Autumn from the Journals of Henry David Thoreau edited by H.G.O. Blake

The sky is preternaturally blue today - dry and cold - for the duration of the short daylight hours. Thoreau described these late December days as being made up of two twilights. I would have agreed with him during the drizzly days we've had recently, but today definitely had a day between the two twilights. Narragansett Bay sparkled deep blue reflecting the sky. Every view along the east bay shoreline looked brand new. I've seen this lighthouse a hundred times before, but it never quite gleamed like this.

As we approach the winter solstice in the northern hemisphere, commentators and pundits seem to have a deep inner compulsion to point out that many of the world's major religions have winter holidays centered around light. Just this afternoon Nancy and I were driving around listening to some NPR show about the winter holidays. It started out with a solemnly recited list of "ancient traditions" such as Christmas, Hanukkah, Diwali, Kwanzaa... wait a minute, isn't Kwanzaa a 20th century invention? So much for ancient traditions. And all this stuff with lights and trees has more to do with practices that well predate Christianity than with the birth of Christ. But that said, there does seem to be some great human need to celebrate light at the darkest time of year.

So much of life is about the play of light and shadow both literally and metaphorically. We call our bad moods "dark" and our doubts and fears "shadows". We seek en"light"enment in our spiritual practices. Day. Night. Light. Dark. Sunshine. Shadow. We shed some light on the subject in the hope we'll understand it better. And we do decorate our homes and communities with lights in the dark of December.

I didn't set out after breakfast at Downcity with intent to photograph light and shadows as a theme. In fact I didn't recognize that there was a theme to the shots I took until I loaded that little green floppy disk into the computer and listed today's photos. I set out not to waste the bright blue sky, to explore the east bay, to look for birds without freezing my tail off.

It turned out to be too cold to walk on the bike path without hat and gloves, which I had forgotten to bring. So all my duck and gull observations are from Veterans Memorial Parkway. It looked like the gulls were having a family reunion at the cove, so I had to pull over and check them out. Despite the fact that there were hundreds, they were mostly ring bills except for about 6 herring gulls who were going to town stripping what looked like a chicken or turkey carcass (do people feed their garbage to the gulls directly now?). A mallard drake in full breeding plumage joined in the gull frenzy, stomping around in a puddle showing off his gorgeous chestnut breast. I don't think any of the gulls responded to this display.

The gleaming bay kept drawing me onward until we both really needed to stop for coffee and a restroom. The Barrington Starbucks was convenient for this purpose although neither of us actually got what we ordered on the first try. In what way does "chai" sound like "eggnog"? However, the light show created by the low winter sun coming in through the door and casting shadows on the walls was fascinating. Every time somebody opened the door or a car went by outside, new patterns formed. People must've thought I was nuts photographing the walls, but I love the results.

We kept driving all the way south to Newport because I wanted it to be dark enough to enjoy the Christmas lights when we came back through Bristol. I had some notion of getting to Sachuest Point just at dusk to look for short eared owls, of which there are frequently many there, but it was already quite dark as the car rolled past First and Second beaches. The sunset stopped traffic (what little there was of it there).

I took a walk alone in the dark on Third Beach while Nancy listened to Sound and Spirit on the car radio. The moonlight on the water was hypnotic. I was freezing cold but I kept walking toward the moon shivering and feeling the wind sneak in under my jacket. I found a horseshoe crab shell so big it looked even more prehistoric than usual. I'd hoped I might find some large whelk shells, which often wash up on Third Beach, but I didn't. In awhile I was finally ready to go look at lights in Bristol.

Bristol is a wonderland of white lights that has to be seen to be appreciated. Warren ain't bad either. I drove that whole stretch really slowly. But the real marvel revealed itself as we crossed over the two S bridges between Warren and Barrington.

A huge angel hovered over the Barrington River. It really looked unearthly. And big. At least twelve feet tall, and at least twelve feet off the ground - or off the water. In the dark, I couldn't tell what it was attached to. It looked like it was just there floating in the sky over the Barrington River. A frightening apparition. I drove around the neighborhood for a little while looking for a safe place to pull over so I could take a picture. Incredibly, the house that had this giant in its back yard had no other Christmas lights on it. The angel is mounted on a pole at the water's edge. I finally found a little bit of shoulder on which to risk leaving the car, near the bike path. I walked aways down the bike path until I got a vantage point that gave the same effect as seeing it from the bridge. Its reflection looked like orange fire floating on the water.