Paradise in New England is located on an island off the coast of Maine where pink granite mountaintops look out upon an endless sea, where waterfalls and rushing brooks border carriage roads of broken stone, where bays of pine-fringed islands and beaches of colorful cobblestones sit beneath a dark blue northern sky, where hidden ponds reflect that dazzling transcendence: Acadia National Park.
There’s nothing spectacular in this photo I know. It’s a cloudy day and the slopes of Pemetic and Cadillac are reflected in the quiet waters of Bubble Pond. There’s a stillness I wanted to capture here before I began hiking up the slope of one of those mountains, I forget which one now. There is also a symmetry that I wished to depict, an almost classical grace that the park’s natural features often encapsulate.
But the one thing that I come back to now in this photo is the vein of light that glows in the center of the image. It’s a point in the pond that because of its distance and my position doesn’t reflect the mountainsides but instead the sky of clouds. I’m sure I noticed it then, but I don’t think it was central in my thoughts.
But now, as mentioned in my over-glowing introductory sentence, I feel that it reflects that transcendence of the park, captures the soul of the island. For me. That’s a gift I need when faced with the long dark nights of winter. And one I look forward to reclaiming next month when Daylight Savings Time returns and again I can look upon that long-lasting light of Acadia.
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