Green LIght, Red Light

Day 17: Remember that game you played as a kid called "Red Light, Green Light?" Hummingbirds like this Anna's have it built in. This remarkable ability to change colour seemingly on a whim is due to the physical structure of the feathers rather than to pigmentation. Microscopic layers within the feather only permit passage of specific wavelengths, and as light strikes the feather from different angles, multiple microlayers combine or cancel specific wavelengths to produce the visual effect of colour change. A hummingbird's shimmering throat feathers may hold as many as fifteen different microlayers, each with a thickness which matches one colour of light. The reflected light we perceive as iridescence is the product of amplification of some colours, reduction of others. With the ability to go from red to green with just a shift of the head, it's no wonder hummingbirds can halt so abruptly mid-air and then be gone in a flash. They've had lots of practice playing "Stop and Go."

Prismatic Light

Day 123: Held up in my father's arms so that I could observe the full moon, I spoke my first word: "Light!" Not "mama" or "dada," mind you, but "Light!" in a revelation of my first leanings toward science. From that moment on, I was fascinated by the phenomenon. As a young child, I played with mirrors, facing them into themselves, trying to get my eyes into a position where I could see around the bend of the infinite tunnel the reflections created. I was captivated by my father's spyglass and the way it brought far things nearer. When I reached elementary-school age, I was given a microscope by my favourite uncle, opening yet another door into a realm I could not otherwise see. However, it was some time later before they discovered that the world visible through my eyes was nothing more than a smear, and at last I was fitted with glasses which gave me the ability to see almost normally. But in the back of my mind was always the question: Do I see what other people see? This of course is a variation on the old "Does steak taste the same to you as it does to me?" puzzle. The fact is, we have no way of knowing how another person perceives sensory input. We can make educated guesses, and we assume that most people share these experiences in the same way, but we don't really know, not really. (Frankly, I don't like steak, so it must not taste the same to me as it does to you.) In any event, I began gathering optics of all sorts for my amusement: magnifiers, lenses, prisms, etc., and to this day, they intrigue me. For example, why does a mirror reflect the distance as a blur to a person who is nearsighted? It is a flat surface like a sheet of paper, but light does not "print" on it like a billboard. There's some fancy physics going on there, and yes, I understand it, although one part of my mind still insists it shouldn't work that way. And light behaves as both particle and wave. Which is it, because it can't be both? And is it really drawn by gravity? Is there some other force at play, something which we lack the mental ability to conceptualize? I imagine right now you're asking, "What got her off on this tangent today?" It was just a rainbow, a simple shattering of white light through the corner of my sprouter tray: ephemeral, intense and beautiful where it lay for a moment on my kitchen counter.

Snow Jays

Day 131: Steller's Jay is absolutely stellar when ornamenting a snow-covered branch! They are also a reliable visitor to my feeders, and are here year-'round. That said, they are not the only jays who come calling. Occasionally, a few Grey Jays drift down from the upper elevations during the winter, and for the last couple of years, a Scrub Jay has shown up during the summer months. All members of the family of corvids, they may not be quite as smart as crows and ravens, but they're still some of the sharpest crayons in the box...in this case, one marked "sapphire blue." The colour is a trick of physics (refraction of light from the cellular structure of keratin in their feathers). This bird is actually just one more LBJ, the "little brown job" of birder parlance.

Dance The Holly! Dance The Mistletoe!

Day 69: The Solstice finds the Pacific Northwest under a thick layer of dripping cloud, grey in the manner so typical of the area, yet those of us who are governed more by Nature than by the arbitrary structures of clock and calendar feel this turning in our bones. The Light is returning, a lengthening of daylight imperceptible at first, noticeable by those attuned to the change in a week or ten days, obvious to all by mid-January.

It is unsurprising that many mid-winter festivals incorporate illuminations into their observances, whether by candle, sparkling lights or a shining star atop the Christmas tree. For some, light is a metaphor (Christ as "the Light of the world"); for others, it is a physical thing (the flame in the darkness or the sun rising over a specific landmark). It is a theme which joins the hands of one faith with another and another, until all are standing in a great circle, linked by that one commonality. We are brought to unity by Light.

In peace and in harmony, turn your hearts to the Light.
Let it shine on you and within you; be its messenger.
Carry the Light to one and all, and live its beauty as your motto.
Celebrate the Solstice and the returning of the Light.

Light

Day 52: They say that photography is all about the light. The right light is what that guy with the 40-pound lens is waiting for up at Reflection Lake, and he's so wrapped up in getting the shadows at just the perfect shade of purple that he's oblivious to being eaten by mosquitoes. Light can change the mood of a photo and its ambience, casting a pall on a happy event or brightening a dour one. Photographers talk about light in many terms: backlight, key light, highlight, harsh light, fill light, catch-light, and so on. They carry umbrellas and external flash attachments, strobes, reflectors. Light is an obsession and a passion with us, and yet it is elusive, a perfection never quite attainable, a nirvana just beyond our reach. Too much or too little, and our creations turn commonplace. Poor lighting defeats even our most valiant attempts.

Someone (you know who you are) recently commented on my "good vision." I know you weren't speaking in regard to my sight, but that was my first thought when I read those words. You see, my vision (sight) is lousy, even with corrective lenses. That said, I've learned to compensate. A shadow with a bump in the middle tells me I might trip over a rise in the land, and a bunch of shadows warns me of roots and rocks on the path. I can't see for diddly, but I get by because I've learned to read the light. Does that help my photography? You bet! Light is what brings out those minute details in a subject and turns it into something special, so when you go out to take pictures, don't look for interesting subject matter. Look for interesting light.