Horizon

It's the time of year when minutes count. We examine the condition of the light obsessively, morning and evening. Is there more light yet? Is there? Is there? Here, finally, this very morning, sunrise is earlier than it was yesterday. 8:03 AM (It's not symmetrical, you will recall, neither against the clock nor up and down the latitudes. Check yours...). And we've gained 15 minutes at the sunset end since our earliest sunset at 4:20 on December 14.

OK then, at sunrise on January 2, Mount Baker showed off his silhouette briefly in the endless run of cloudy mornings. Mount Baker, over behind Bellingham, about 90 miles away as the eye sees it (or maybe a 4-hour car trip including a ferry but not including climbing the mountain when you get there)(does anyone climb Mount Baker? I dunno.)

Mount Baker on my horizon, January 2, 2011, over roof and under wires. (Click for larger image.)

This business of 'as the eye sees it'. Just walking around the apartment, and anywhere I am around town or on the road, my attention zooms right past the foreground to water, always. Or to the horizon. My famous water view is an extremely small slice of the world but it's what I see first. In reality, it's just a tiny bit of what's out there, you can barely pick it out on a real photo.

Moment of sunshine without zoom, morning, January 5, 2011. (Click for larger image.)

Mt. Baker if it had been visible yesterday morning would be just to the right of the telephone pole. Under other cloud conditions you would see tiny bits of San Juan Island (US) and Victoria (CA) on the other side of the Strait. Here is a full-size strip from the same image. On a blue day my eyes automatically pick out every tiny bit of water between the houses and through the leafless tree branches.

Horizon of that moment (Click for larger image, then scroll for the water bits.)