As may be expected, this photo doesn’t at all capture what’s happening in the distance. You can hardly make out the lump of blue mountains sitting on the sea. Same for the Grand Canyon or the Mona Lisa... a picture’s not gonna cut it.
It only happens in the winter, on cold days, when the wind is blowing and the air is clean, during sunset or sunrise...
...the view of the island Corsica from Cabris.
It’s 200 kilometers from here, and a difference in elevation of 600 meters, and a few times a year, for a few minutes, the island emerges between the vast blue sky and Mediterranean sea, then slowly sinks away again.
There are words to describe what’s happening, but no words to describe the experience.
It’s hands down my favorite part of living in this village. Whatever you’re doing at the moment becomes totally unimportant. Pull over. Stop the conversation. Quiet yourself and watch this stunning spectacle.
There are a few memories that I can compare it to- the first view of the Grand Canyon, for example. Your breath stops for a moment in amazement.
The first time you listen to Barber’s Adagio for Strings- another example. Not the first time that you hear it, but the first time that you listen to it.
It’s the lump in the throat. The realization that we are so small compared to this stupefyingly giant world. The reminder that the ironing waiting to be done and the house and errands to be run are significantly unimportant. The awareness of a Creator whose works are majestic and beautiful. The feeling of comfort, and of a Shepherd’s voice that is saying:
“I’m here and I care about you. Even if you can’t see me all the time, I’m here. I love you.”