Today is our Fifth Anniversary of living in this house, and this morning, like a renewal of vows between us and this place, we woke to a beautiful gift: A silver landscape.
During the night, fog and low clouds pushed in from the East along the river, and as they froze, like a sea of ice crystals as light as air, they adhered like microscopic lace to each and every thing.
The result was a world readymade in silver-gelatin print. As the sun came up from the same direction, the mercurial effect increased, a brief blaze of silver light coming from the landscape itself, refracting as if from the inside-out, as if every thing had its own source of interior illumination.
And then it was all gone, burned off in a few short minutes.
It was the kind of spectacular and unexpected event that creates a space inside us for noticing miracles. We pass miracles around us every day, but we grow accustomed to them in their usual patterns – the sun rises, the sun sets, the fog moves along the river, the frost gilds old leaves, we have a house in constant flux of repairs, our jobs become routine, and our own hearts, for now, continue their rhythmic humdrum beating.
When that pattern is disrupted, or amplified, we have the chance to see it again for the first time.
Extraordinary moments like this morning’s freezy-lace remind us of the true nature of the everyday, which is magnificent. We should rejoice in it daily, because that flaming interior light in all things is never actually gone. It’s all in our own angle of perception.
May this sixth year we are beginning at le Camparol be filled with that awareness of the quicksilver within.