It was late afternoon, about an hour before sunset, as I headed out along the path through Roslin Glen. To begin with I walked in the shadows, with tiny slivers of light occasionally piercing through the layers of trees. The air was still as stone, but filled with birdsong, and then the path bent and I was dazzled by gold. It was so bright that the only way to see it was to look through the leaves, which were catching the golden light like tiny spoons. The light delighted and confused in its shimmering layers of gold falling back through the trees in rolling waves.
So bright, that the distance was forgotten in a burst of phosphorous white, and the river below lost to dazzle. Only the leaves could show the wild light of late autumn, catching it in their parchment folds and dry veins. Patiently showing us their tiny spoonful of light, caught in that moment. Light catchers, reanimated by the suns gold, enchanting our senses with light and colour. The rest was a burst of infinite white travelling on uninterrupted to the end of the universe.
We stood, the dogs and I, on the very edge of the earth, with the suns light streaming past us at a hundred and eighty six thousand miles a second, as the planet turned onwards. It was as though the trees were singing light from their branch tips, and the whole world was rushing at incredible speed. The only way to see the light was for it to be caught in a pause, a moment of rest, filtered by the earths canopy.
If I looked behind, away from the rush of light, there were wonderful patterns of shadows, light and colour, shimmering above my head. Like a day time Aurora, the trees flickered yellow, orange and green from their saturated shimmering leaves. The woods were alive with light, and it left me breathless.
The path bent again, and we dropped down the steep sides of the Glen, dipping into the shadow land once more. Here nestled away at the feet of trees were hidden wonders. Tiny mushroom fruits bathing in the soft diffused light of this pool of shadows. Tender and fragile in their moment in the light, with long tangled roots resting eternally in the dark.
Walking quietly in the hush of the soft shade, with my resting eyes drawn earthwards, the next corner revealed the ancient stone face of Roslins Green Man. Smiling from the corner of his carved mouth, his soft moss beard blended into the woodland floor. Here in the shadows he had rested, watching the passage of countless feet and ages gone, yet still he remained. The sense of calm from his deep stillness soothed my soul, rooting me back into my place on this earth. I knew I had to walk back out into the dazzling rushing light, but I paused a while in the shadows, resting with this old soul, who knew a thing or two about life.