“Creativity is intelligence having fun.” 

 

Albert Einstein

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​Sigurd Olson, in his book The Singing Wilderness, refers to delight as the Ross Lights. They appear as if by magic. They arrive in contrast to every other color and hue around them.

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Such light is counterintuitive. It is where you don’t think to look. It is usually on the other side of the visible world of sunsets with their wild displays of reds and gold.

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What’s odd is that you need to turn about to catch them. It would be best if you looked where you don’t think much is happening. And only sometimes it might be there, like fox eyes peering out at you from behind the brush.

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I’ve witnessed the Ross Lights only a few times in my life.

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Once, I was walking in the mountains, and the fading light was stunning. Vibrant yellows, fire-coal reds, both caught in the clouds overhead. 

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It was a sight that makes one linger until long after the glow was gone, and clouds had faded to a stubborn purple.

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Something had made me turn. To the east, brushing the trees, were pastel pinks. Here, there were not the busy, intense colors stirring up the west. 

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This was soft light, subdued, gracious, and gentle. It was only later that Olson introduced me to what I had experienced, calling it by name.

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I was reminded of this again about a week ago. I was walking my dog Jack along the highway. Once again, the western sky was on display, one of the best sunsets we have had all winter. 

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I had this strange thought that perhaps I should turn around. As I did, there it was—this shy, coy, coquettish play of nature.

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Again, it had found me. The Ross Light brushed on birch and caught in the sky is truly one of nature’s rarest gifts.

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​​It seldom occurs to us there might be another reality, just as important and necessary to our experience. While it is not as dramatic, it can be just as enduring as the sunset-light capturing our immediate attention.

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We comment on what we see and what others are pointing at and say, “Oh, how beautiful! Look at the colors! How striking! The best sunset in years!”

 

Yet, many might not see the blush of Ross Light. If they would only look behind to magic they might never imagine.

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​Parents get caught in the frenzy of their children’s activities.

There are so many places to go, so many things to organize.

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But the preciousness of this time with their child being two or three or five happens only this once. Grandparents are well aware of this. At the end of a day, who thinks to look behind, to the privilege of what this all means? 

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A vacation with powerboats and travel, ski lodges, and adventure is all on the obvious side of what we notice. But the silence, the exquisite joy of good company, a chance to slow down, moments to reflect, might not these also be stunning if we were to decide to pay attention to them?

 

The point is we might not know such ethereal gifts are there. Or we are more than satisfied with the lingering light of sunsets on full display right in front of us.

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But, to my mind, there is nothing so grand as rose-blushed light caught on the trunk of white birch or painted on a drift of snow.

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A friend reminds me I should hush when approaching a remote northern lake by snowshoe.

 

Just once, he witnessed a pack of wolves out there on its surface.

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Now every time, he approaches with reverence, expecting that perhaps today might be the day.