The Bright Divide

142
Round and round they sped. . . .
 
Jon Krakauer had a different perspective, unanchored in the futile exercise of chasing a single horizon: he wrote, “[t]he joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences,” and concluded “there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun.”
 
Contemplating horizons seems to be yet another one of those half-empty or full experiences.
 
Dublin’s pale pastel horizons were a beautiful seamless whole of heaven and earth, but equal beauty can be found in the bright divide.
 
A horizon may be marked by a narrow strip of rock where we once took our toddlers hand-in-hand and their colorful canvas sneakers’ rubber soles squeaked as seagulls trilled and swooped.

 

098
Another horizon is demarcated by autumn hues, armies of towering stalks so dry  they clatter like thin tin in October wind.  Gentle hills rest where the earth meets the sky.  We would climb there after school when the children were younger, swishing our feet through crunching fallen leaves.
   
169
A fall sun would plummet behind the treeline horizon of farmland where horses and cows clustered on grass fields. We would head home past them to read favorite bedtime stories to our sons and daughters–tales of children and farm animals and magical creatures, of the Stinky Cheese Man, Noisy NoraSquids who will be Squids and Max and his Millions.  “One more story,” our children would ask, again and again.
089
Sometimes the horizon’s silhouettes are cast in black by the setting sun’s blinding rim.  On those nights, it seems that although the earth is beneath our feet, the rest falls away just beyond the horizon–which is, after all,  “nothing save the limit of our sight.”

About Stephanie

In her spare time, Stephanie works full-time, and then some, as an attorney. She has published articles and delivered talks in arcane fields like evidentiary issues, jury instructions, expert witnesses, and forensic evidence. She also is an adjunct professor at a law school on the banks of the Charles and loves that dirty water, as she will always think of Boston as her home. You are welcome to take a look at her Facebook author page, or follow @SMartinGlennon on Twitter. All content on this blog, unless otherwise attributed, is (c) 2012-2016 by Stephanie M. Glennon and should not be reproduced (in any form other than re-blogging in accordance with Wordpress protocol and the numerous other wee buttons at the bottom of each post) without the express permission of the domain holder.
This entry was posted in Love and Loss and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

9 Responses to The Bright Divide

  1. jampang says:

    wow…. the photos are awesome.

    http://wp.me/p3S7a-oM

  2. Gail says:

    Very beautiful photos! I love the purple colors in the first photo.

  3. Jeff Sinon says:

    Stephanie, I must say that not only do you have a way with words, you do have an eye for photography as well.

  4. Denise Glennon says:

    Love this one. Maybe it’s the sneakers or the crunchy leaves. Much love.

  5. Catherine says:

    Was it the Krakauer book, Into Thin Air that Jim recommended to me, and that was referenced in the ceremony the hospital put on at the Inn? I am going to have to revisit that book and figure that out. Wouldn’t that be fun, to look at the books of Jim’s life as he read them? Sort of like a photo essay of the literary life and times of Dr. Jim!

  6. I love the beautiful way you’ve written about horizons provoking emotional and sensory memories. I felt as though I was on each horizon with you 🙂 beautiful post Stephanie.

  7. Touch2Touch says:

    Beautiful text to go with the beautiful photos.

  8. Pingback: Weekly Photo Challenge: The horse that walked into the sky | dark circles, etc

  9. Pingback: Horizons - ROBIN'S REAL LIFE

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s