Dreaming the World

We awoke to a chilly, brilliantly sunlit morning. There is a strong breeze out of the north and all of the trees are in motion. Arreas of bright green and dark shadow stand in intense contrast. The week ahead is forecast to be damp and jacket cool.

The light, now that we are five weeks from the summer solstice, has taken on a decidedly summery tone with sharp contrasts between light and shadow. The dappling effect of sunlight through leaves is intensifying, creating a sort of camouflage that moves and sways, just perfect for making a new born faun invisible in high grass or partial shade as I once discovered alongside a trail in the mountains outside Washington, DC.

The intensity of light and shadow now are similar to the first week or so of August. While the light intensifies, the day to day temperature lags far behind; I have yet to wear short sleeves. Come August, the scenario will reverse, with temperatures only slowly cooling as the light fades more with each passing day.

I’ve been out with cameras trying to capture something of the changing season, focusing on the play of light and shadow, a quality I find difficult to capture. Here on the coast the light has what many call a “Mediterranean” feel, a texture even more evident on the Cape, especially out near Provincetown. It is “crystalline” and takes on a quality that approaches the physical.

For much of my young adulthood I wanted to live on the outer Cape but somehow never managed to do it. Now that we live a few miles off Cape, we seldom manage to visit, especially during this time of year when the light is most magical. While the great increase in the Cape’s population certainly has reduced its wildness, and seasonal tourism is much of the Cape’s economy, they also keep us away as who wants to deal with all that traffic? We could catch the train down to the mid-Cape but without a car there is not much I can do once we get there.

There are times we miss the disability friendly aspects of visiting parts of Spain, Italy, and France where disability is no big deal and accessibility, while far from perfect, is a major project. I may never forget going to see an important art exhibition in Andalusia, only to discover a line that was at least a block long. Jennie and I decided, against my desire otherwise, that she would wait in line, in the May heat, while I sat on a bench.

I was standing, looking forlornly (guiltily?) at her as she took her place in line, when a guard motioned me over to the entrance, then Jennie. We were ushered in, got tickets, and wandered into the exhibit. I believe I paid but Jennie was admitted free as my support person, a practice more common in Europe than the U.S. It all felt rather magical.