People are noticing it. On the half of the planet that I live on, light is returning. Lumen's chiffon yellow skirt is widening into the early hours of preparation for a busy day, and also into the evening when we circle back home to rest. It feels like a gift to drive without headlamps, to be able to see into the
corners.
She has not finished her dance of illumination. It will expand into summer, and we will relish the warmth and brightness of the sun's presence.
To celebrate the growing light, I hung a different quilt. Seven panels of the rocks at
Stonehenge are the whole story. Chopping six of them into equilateral triangles is the process that I have only loose control over. I cannot really predict what will happen when chunks of orange and green form a wreath. The turquoise sky hovers like an umbrella, with spinning stars embedded in the blue.
Having attended a workshop on art and empathy recently, I appreciate
what looking at this quilt does for me. She calms me. Reminds me without words that there is strength and beauty, and I need not explain them. I did poke around on the internet for reasons why Stonehenge is a destination that has drawn visitors for many years.
There is a photo of my grandfather casually sitting on one of the rocks, not having bothered to take off his hat
and overcoat. A couple of my kids have been there in more recent years, and followed the rules about ropes and tickets.
But no Wikipedia article has satisfied my curiosity about the space. Who built it, and how? Yet even an academic explanation would not impact the glow I feel sitting in my favorite chair, gazing at this quilt.
Light has been around since the first day of creation. Even though I do not hold those details as literally true, it does resonate for me that we as a people hunger for it. Even the ancient tribes, who had no back hoes or engineers, found the means to erect a symbol of light that still draws us in.
"And God said, 'Let there be light'. And there was light." Genesis 1