OVER HERE IN MY CORNER OF THE EARTH we call it the godlight, the kind of light there’s no explaining other than to call it that. That slanted light that makes elongated, high-drama shadows and turns everything warm and glowing. So when it shone the other afternoon I thought hey, let’s just snap and post a photo of the godlight and see if it’s shining anywhere else this spring? Any sightings? (Note: This light is non-denominational, hence the lower-case “g.” All are welcome to witness it. And this photo’s worth clicking, by the way…better bigger.)
the godlight
May 24, 2008
Simply breathtaking! Thank you for sharing it with us.
I agree with your “godlight” description. I love the tree in the foreground that contrasts against the background that glows in godlight.
Thanks, Ken, and welcome. I just got my copy of Photoshop Elements 6 in the mail today, so soon I will be able to make the shots look even better, I hope. There are bigger forces than me at work re: the light, but I can do my part to be more technically expert on the upload of my shot of it! Wish me luck.
Hello Margaret, you have a great eye for composition. And you are well beyond the point and shoot stage showing your skill at using aperture to highlight foreground and blur b/g as seen in numerous photos. I am not a techy, so I tend to fade when trying to do much in photoshop. But one camera item that is quite handy is the polarizer filter. Highly recommended to help screen out the bounce of light off leaves that detracts from seeing their true colors.
All you need now is a choir to herald its arrival…or the opening chords of an Enya track. The godlight is most exceptional at the cottage, where it also has the opportunity to bounce off water.
I like to call them God-rays. It’s a good name for that lovely side light you get either early in the morning or close to twilight. All my favorite garden pictures are taken at those times of the day. I wish I was better at getting up early though.
Makes the heart go “ahhhh…”
I don’t have any photos of it, but I know exactly the type of light you speak of. It bathes everything in a type of ethereal brilliance that just seems otherworldly–almost seems like Technicolor. Your pic is very pretty.
That’s lovely. God-light is a nice term for it. It’s especially nice if the day has been overcast and setting sun at last sends its rays beneath the clouds, making everything glow with super-saturated color.
Then there are what I like to call “Jesus clouds”: big white puffy ones backlit by striated rays. Just add some praying hands in front of them for an inspirational greeting card.
What an amazing picture. I have had some godlight sightings in my yard as well. Simply breath taking.
Hello to Janice. Am glad to hear the godlight is showing itself elsewhere, too. Don’t want to hog it all myself… ;-)
My husband and I were on our land this past weekend (a piece of love/art/hard work in progress) and saw godlight illuminate the cliffs across the river from us. It was enough to cause us to stop for a moment, and remember the reason we fell in love with the place to begin with. Thank you for such an apt description.
Welcome, Angela, to A Way to Garden. I love that we are all bathed in it together; so lovely to hear this tale. Thank you.
Love this shot Margaret. Great description for this type of light.I see it in my yard also, on beautiful evenings.
My photojournalism professor called the light at morning and evening the sweet light. I have always loved it. Great photo. My Nikon and I spent time in the garden yesterday around dusk.
Welcome, Paula, and also thanks for the pathway to your blog, where dogs and tomatoes and basil and handknit socks live happily ever after.
Godlight is a perfect name for that magical light just before dusk. I am a 1954 Virgo and your beautiful picture reminds me of summer evenings, swimming late, going for ice cream with my parents, no school, and the lovely scents from my mom’s gardens. Does godlight invoke any memories for you, Margaret?
Welcome, Andy, to A Way to Garden. So you are just a couple of months younger than I am (’54 Gemini here). All of your memories are ones I share, though it was my Grandmother who did the gardening in our case. And one more: Those big blue and white bags of Kingsford charcoal briquets. My Dad would take out just enough, and stack them in a pyramid in the bbq and light it with a splash of fluid, then grill something for dinner.
I have seen this light! The first slant of morning sun through the dewy white pines(for some reason hated in my neighborhood now).It’s a shimmering swirl of symmetry…what did Kilmer say…”Only God can make a tree”!
Welcome, Marian. I am glad to hear that you, too, have shared this incredible light at your place. Hope to see you (and it) again soon.