Spring merges into summer and days stretch further till evenings almost refuse to close out. In some ways it’s a welcome relief to feel warmth returning and to have more daylight hours. And yet there’s something about the light, isn’t there? It’s different. Stronger and more direct.
Dare I say, less forgiving?
It reaches into places that held shadows without question, causing corners that were quiet to feel exposed. Things that rested just beyond notice now take on sharper edges. Summer holds its own kind of shadows. Shadows not cast by darkness, but by light that reveals too much, too clearly. And in that type of light, certain things don’t disappear. They follow.
This is where the season opens outward.
Journeys feel altered, roads lengthen and distances expand.
Welcome to The Shadows of Summer.
R. H. DIXON 