When I found that the word splendor was set for this week, I was excited and knew exactly what I wanted to do. The scene was perfect. The photograph below may help you to get a slight glimpse of what I was picturing.
There is a vast blue sky and vast, icy water, a beautiful lakeside town behind two mountain peaks with a road winding between, and a gorgeous orange sun lighting it all, glistening off of the snow.
But it was not to be. The scene was indeed impressive. The surrounding tree-covered mountains were imposing, the vast sky and lake awe-inspiring.
Nevertheless, it wasn't a splendorous impressive. I felt as though it should be; were not there mountains and a wide sky? Yet it wasn't splendorous, and I had to admit it. Why?
There was no sun. The splendor I remembered was given by the sun. Bright rays bathed the scene in splendor.
This time, the dull, gray, oppressive skies emphasized the columns of smoke rising from the town. The vastness of the scene was an overwhelming vastness. Slate blue and gray white filled the whole of the sky, letting not one tiny shaft of sunlight into the scene. Riding the lift up the mountain, I gazed around, seeing everywhere dull colors, dark trees, and un-splendorous grayish white.
Despite the marvelous surroundings, splendor wasn't to be seen. I had to give up and find my splendor elsewhere, I decided.
And then, there it was. To one side,
there was splendor. That vast sky, completely clouded to the horizon all around for that whole day, had let one thin line just above the horizon clear, and there the sun glowed. High on the mountain side, that strip of color could be seen, just a portion of the wide horizon. Starting with a bright, yet pastel sort of orange radiating up in the center, it faded into lavender and pastel pink in that long, thin line. That slightly more intense color at the midpoint indicated the placement of the sun. Amidst the grayness of the sky, the colors contrasted and drew the eye.
That is the visualization of splendor I have for you. But that is all. Once returned to base of the mountain, you would never know there was glory visible in the heights. In that zone, six o'clock in the evening looked no different than nine in the morning had. Time passed unnoticed by the uncaring sky.
Should, however, you choose to rise above the lower levels, suddenly, you are pleased with the sight of glorious color, concentrated there. Returning to the lower earth, you no longer know the difference between sunset and noon, noon and sunrise.
And, quickly, it changes and fades, and the vision of glory is gone. It remains only in my mind.
Pictures are only one way to visualize. The picture in my mind is better than the one I wish I was able to have taken. There are many ways of seeing, and pictures cannot always capture all you wish them to.
Nor can words, which sometimes fail, and though there are other ways of visualizing, photography is the focus here, so I end with a picture which I found spoke of splendor at last.
