It’s the light

Day 1 of my 10 day break without Cornelius.

I’m still in the throws of dealing with the medical billing issue. I bought ink cartridges for my printer so I can audit the claims made to me versus what was submitted to the insurance company. I think there are 6 or 7 claims that were never submitted and billed to me directly. In any case, it’s one of several big focuses for the week ahead.

We drove out to Phoenix Thursday night so it would be easier to get him to his 5am check in at Sky Harbor. Although living in the Sonoran desert hasn’t been wonderful, to put it lightly, the sun sets and sun rises are incredibly beautiful. Silhouettes of saguaros slowly eclipsed by mountain shadows. Light smatterings of clouds floating across the sky, creating the sun’s corona. The same clouds cutting the sun’s illumination into fat, golden rays. It lives up to Arizona’s flag.

We were moving so fast I missed the best opportunity to capture it. Just before the sun sunk below that line of clouds, the sky was fully illuminated with three of those golden wedges, separated by deep, red-orange wedges. The clouds were outlined by brilliant bright white gold threads. You can see the low mountains on the horizon waiting to swallow all of the daylight.

“I’ve always found it beautiful to watch the fall.”

I never thought of it that way, the falling of the sun. I’ve heard and used phrases about the rising sun, but not the falling sun. When I was living on Long Island the most special, unique aspect that residents, artists, anyone not seeking the rich and famous, referenced was the beauty of light there. I think their vision was skewed. Just about anywhere seems illuminated by a divine presence of light once you get out of the concrete gray towers of the City. Arizona is light. The desert’s god is Light.

Out East, the light is filtered through thick, low trees and now invasive bamboo. The light is reflected off of the bodies of water, where the sun meets the ocean and the bays. But here, nothing escapes or filters the light. I feel frightened of it most of the time. I’m used to navigating through the shadows of cloud scratchers. Here I’m exposed. Here I have to stand up straight and still to capture the straight lines of shade striped on the ground by wavering palm trees and the arms of cacti. Any bit of shade in the summer is an oasis.

This is not what I intended to write about today. But here it is.

Below: Desert sunset over Wilcox, Arizona taken February 20, 2021