Sunburst Shadow

Pretend penumbra is the thing itself. Or part of the thing itself. Perhaps the essence or the spirit. Maybe shadow play isn’t theatre after all. Not just a shaded silhouette. Not just an echoed contour, resonating, reverberating. remembering. Imagine, if you’re able, that this sunburst shadow obliquely reveals not only Rosslyn’s front gate, but also the rising sun and architectural heritage that inspired it as well as the creative craftsman who imagined and sketched and tweaked and fabricated and installed and painted it.

Consider the contribution of the sunburst shadow. Could it be as consequential as the wood gate through which the sun casts it? And the waking star itself along with centuries of builders who catalyzed it? The carpenter who conjured and created it?

Sunburst Shadow Haiku

Whither wintering,
friends and forbears foreshadow
midmorning sunburst. 

Here it is again. Still a sunburst shadow. But sunnier. Like our friend, Tom Duca, whose signature subtly accompanies this, and so many more, Essex embellishment deftly braided into the story this lakeside village tells to anyone willing to slow down and listen.

[Many moons ago] we asked Tom [Duca] to design, fabricate, and install robust, functional gates featuring the Essex sunburst motif. And then we stepped aside. No hovering. No second-guessing. Full, creative freedom. Tom works well that way!

From his first sketch, we fell in love with Tom Duca’s sunburst gates. Joyful and familiar, yet elegant and totally unique. We did discuss wood, assembly, and hinges, but ultimately we deferred to Tom’s judgement and preference.

And little-by-little the vision metamorphosed into reality. Tom Duca’s sunburst gates transformed the street view of Rosslyn, echoing a familiar Essex motif while providing a dog-secure barrier between yard and traffic. (Source: Tom Duca’s Sunburst Gates)

Here’s a quick photo recap of his creative adventure (and the legacy left behind.)

I’ve showcased Tom Duca’s gates before, but I’ve left his sunburst shadow for today, for this midwinter micropoem. A haiku offered, let’s suppose, as an alternative to Ground Hog’s Day.

Thank you, Tom, for your sunburst shadow.