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| California poppies with 'Wisley Primrose' sun roses (Helianthemum nummularium) |
My favorite forecast (in a twisted sort of way) when I lived in the northeast was for "brightening." Not clearing, mind you. Brightening. On brightening days, the skies would stop being dark and dreary and turn plain old dreary, a change of degree rather than kind. The light might not have been become strong, but at least it became stronger. Sometimes you're grateful for small graces, like the sight of what might be considered shadows by those who have become inured to shade.
I've never heard a forecaster in New Mexico call for brightening, but I still think the term applies. It's such a handy, relative word, a qualitative rather than a quantitative one. It allows for growth and for nuances of strength. With the tulip days of spring behind us and the poppy days upon us, the sky hasn't gotten sunnier, precisely, but it's certainly brightened. The light is ratcheting up a notch, strengthening from a glow to a blaze. When the sun is overhead at noon, north of the trees in the garden now, and high, it's...well, it's bright. The garden is brightening, too. The pastels I love in the gentler days of spring are yielding to stronger, more saturated colors—colors that can hold their own in the sunlight and pitch it right back.
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| The petunias aren't really this color, but they are definitely bright. |
When a bubble of hot-air balloons floated by the other day, my heart flew right along with them. The sky was such a deep blue, and the balloons' envelopes so brightly colored, that somehow on a spring morning with a glorious day stretched out ahead I felt for a moment like I was 18 again. Maybe you know the feeling I mean, of being young and strong and confident, like you have the world at your feet—for no particular reason, of course, except that you're young and confident, which at the time seems like plenty of reason and to spare. You're beginning to flex your muscles and stretch yourself, to test your strength. You're ready to ratchet life up a notch. The brightest of adventures awaits, because...why wouldn't it?
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| Out the kitchen door |
But of course, you can't take on the world singlehandedly; even good choices have flip sides of loss; life doesn't wait until you're looking before it starts throwing curveballs at you. At some point you realize that the chance to soar isn't necessarily your special birthright. Still, the feeling was gorgeous at the time. It's a springtime feeling, and one we have the pleasure of reliving every year, as the sun begins to flex its muscles and stretch itself, and the garden begins its first, surging flush of growth. The remembrance is a small grace, a brightening, a feeling of what might be considered flying, to those inured to going on foot.
A relative term, brightening. It means something different in middle-age than it did at 18.
Then again, so does strength.
"Brightening" is a wonderful word; it's somehow so very evocative and almost describes the way the weather affects our state of mind.
ReplyDeleteAnd on another note I love the shots of the hot air balloons; there's something cheerful about seeing them drifting like splotches of colour against a blue sky.
Søren, the frequent sight of hot air balloons is one of my favorite things about Albuquerque. They are always so cheerful to see, and so suggestive of adventure, even though you know they're only going to fly down-river for an hour or so and land in a vacant lot somewhere.
DeleteI have never heard the term, but it is very optimistic indeed. Very nice post.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Mama Hen. I heard the term in the Finger Lakes area of NY, which is the second cloudiest region of the country after the Pacific NW. They knew their subtle shades of gray...
DeleteBeautiful color in this post - the yellow of the california poppies seems almost alive! Love your word "brightening."
ReplyDeleteThanks, Rebecca--I forget from year to year just how vibrant CA poppies can be.
DeleteI like meditations on a word/single idea and I enjoyed yours very much - thanks. I like your blog's motto too; think of that a lot as I wonder what my life amounts to! Re the weather, your word reminds me of the Irish weather word, soft, as in "It's a fine soft day" meaning just drizzling. Like the eskimo have for snow, the Irish have many words for rain, I guess!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Country Mouse, and welcome. Wondering what one's life amounts to--that's another thing we (or at least I) didn't worry about at 18! "A fine soft day" sounds so beautifully lyrical, and makes me want to rethink my impression of drizzle.
DeleteI'd almost forgotten that feeling, when life was like springtime. Thanks for reminding me.
ReplyDeleteWasn't (isn't) it a lovely feeling, b-a-g?
Deletemango cravings? I read the post, twice. Where is that mango, she asks doubtfully. Ah, the colour of the poppy?!
ReplyDeleteWhat finely honed images you captured for the brightest of adventures!
I used to love the Swiss weather forecast - blaue Storung - a blue disturbance in the grey cloud cover ;~)
Yes, the poppy, Diana. I kept looking at that picture and practically tasting a juicy mango!
DeleteA blue disturbance--oh, that's wonderful. I'll have to remember that one. Before this week's big windstorm the newspaper warned of low visibility because of "fugitive dust."
Do the ballooners wave and shout hello to you Stacy? Or are they a little embarrassed at floating over your private space and look hurriedly away as they catch your eye? 18 again - I remember that. 10 years ago now (OK perhaps a little more) and yes, a whole world of plans and dreams and possibilities. Becoming a gardener wasn’t one of them - I only wish now that it had been. Still, what do you know at 18? D
ReplyDeleteDave, sometimes during the big Balloon Fiesta in the fall the balloonists will shout and wave in a friendly, festive, "isn't this fun for us all?" kind of way. The rest of the year they're mostly kind enough to pretend they don't see me, which is good, because they always fly over early in the morning when I'm still in my bathrobe and fuzzy slippers and haven't brushed my hair yet. Such a lot happens in...10 years, doesn't it? I wonder if in another "10" we'll be saying, "Still, what do you know at 28?"
DeleteI love when they use this word here...and I do know what it means...brighter shade of gray...we have had the worse April weather...so cold, many tulips just won't bloom or are stunted....no lilacs and the hostas are looking like I will lose many to the constant hard freezes...i can only hope for some brightening in May.
ReplyDeleteOh, Donna, I hope you get all kinds of brightening soon. I'm sorry you've had such a miserable April! In fact, I hope it does more than brighten, and that the weather out and out clears up. There's radical thinking for you!
DeleteIn Seattle we have a hundred different ways to describe RAIN (or so it seems). I think 'brightening rain' should be #101. It suggests that although I may still get wet it won't seem as bad. Fun post (and I'm jealous of your blue skies!!)
ReplyDeleteKaren, I confess to not missing gray skies at all, even though a little more gray now and then would give us a little more green, too. Getting wet but not AS wet is definitely a connoisseur's take on rain!
DeleteI've never heard a forecast for brightening. I wonder if it's a Northeastern thing? In the winters, I miss the cerulean blue skies and am glad they'll be around for a while. The heat I can do without. :)
ReplyDeleteI'm pretty sure "brightening" must be a Northeastern thing, GirlSprout--I heard it for the first time in western NY, on a cold, dreary day that did, in fact, brighten. My least favorite part of the heat is getting into a car that's been in the sun all day. Oof!
DeleteI must remember that "brightening" is a forecast when I should reach for my sunglasses. We're still at subdued and pastel over here so it was all a bit of a surprise! I'm sure at 18 I was ready for all that colour and "get up and go". I hope it hasn't got up and gone now!
ReplyDeleteJanet, sorry about the sudden systems shock! We've had some clouds and cooler weather this week, but when I wrote this one it had been in the upper 80's for days, and sunny, sunny, sunny. We kind of forgot about subdued all in one fell swoop.
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