Split Rock Light

I’m sitting in our living room with Carley. I’ve extinguished the overhead lighting as well as the sconces and lamps to better appreciate the illuminated Christmas tree and the filligreed shadows cast upon the ceiling and walls. We’ve eaten dinner, and our postprandial contentment is enhanced with Christmas anticipation. Tree, stockings, and Christmas carols weaving wonder and nostalgia. Which has what exactly to do with a “Split Rock Light” vintage postcard?

One year ago I paired a vintage postcard with a less vintage poem in a post that took its title and inspiration from a somewhat similar postcard to the one above. Let’s take a look.

I concluded that update with this admission of defeat.

A muffled mess, I’m afraid. But tired, I tip this over the transom to bob in my wake. Good night. (Source: Passing Split Rock)

I was referring mostly to the poem (which you can find here), but — like many of these daily dispatches — what I revealed to you and others when I clicked publish was rough, rudimentary, and tangled. Brainstorming. Notes. “Concepts of a plan…”

Our Rosslyn lifestyle has been informed by the moods, temperament, activities, topography, and breathtaking beauty of Lake Champlain. With so much of our lake life revolving around swimming, boating, and watersports, Split Rock is a familiar geographical backdrop, navigational point of reference, and storytelling subject. Oh, and catching an Adirondack sunset from a boat in mid-lake as the glowing orb settles into the split? Perfection! (Source: Passing Split Rock)

A reader (my friend, Jim Carroll) responded:

A split rock secret. 

Roughly 30 minutes before official sunset, the sun hangs perfectly in the split. 

It’s well worth the effort to time the cruise !! — Jim Carroll

Having witnessed this spectacular phenomenon, I strongly urge others to add this unique sunset vantage to their bucket list.

Here’s another tangent that found its way into that post.

Probably 100 years ago or so this color retouched photograph of a steamship passing Split Rock lighthouse became a postcard, a microscopic meme for the less rhizomic pre-internet age. An image/idea duplicated… and conveyed across large distances to communicate sentiment and elicit reactions. A provocative posting reconnecting geographically dispersed family or friends. So many sentiments inked into surreal facsimile, personalized with a few sentences, mailed for next to nothing. (Source: Passing Split Rock)

Yes, a tangent, but perhaps thinly connected in the way that these lighthouse representations are thinly connected to the Christmas tree casting its spell over this room, over Carley, and over me. Functional symbols. Beacons. In Whallons Bay. In our living room.