This is the view from my office as I leave work these days. Those are not city lights or car lights or building lights. Simply the mostly red and blue lights along the runway. I wish my camera (or the photographer) could better capture atmosphere. And sound (or the lack thereof). There is a quiet peace and calm that descends upon the airport after dark that is indescribable. You must experience it for yourself one day.
Last night as I went to bed I tried to take a photograph of the moon shining through the trees and my bedroom window. I was unsuccessful. I’ve even tried, at times, to portray what I see in words, but I am no more successful. In any case, I’ve long been in love with either of the views from my two bedroom windows. From my bed I can see the lovely Mt. Timpanogos. Along with her glorious displays at sunrise, my favorite is the soft, sure glow of her very best white dress, which she sports throughout the winter, pushing past the dark curtain of the night. As I’ve said before, her constant presence is a balm and comfort to me.
My other favorite is what I was trying to freeze in time and memory last night. The west window behind my bed. A tall tree grows next too it, too close to the house, and therefore close to my heart. It’s lovely during summer when the window is open and a gentle breeze stirs the tree’s leaves just enough to make its presence known, even from behind. And during winter when skeletal branches moved by wind make moonlight dance through my bedroom window, well, that is something to behold as well. The moonbeams reach in along the dark folds of whatever quilt I’m curled up in against the cold as if to warm me also.
Last night the waxing moon shone through still, dark branches of my tree and splayed abstract dark and light across my bed. I turned to look behind me and the familiar play of cool shadow and light gave me warmth and comfort and simple joy.