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These images (yesterday's and today's) come from a moment that now seems like long ago; they are for me a memorial for the beauty known then and now only recalled in memory and in these (sad) images. And then they fit my typical autumnal mood: bittersweet.
Robinson Jeffers lived for many years near Point Lobos and wrote about it often. Here is another of his ruminations:
"One light is left us: the beauty of things . . .
The immense beauty of the world . . .
Look—and without imagination, desire nor dream—directly
At the mountains and sea. Are they not beautiful?
These plunging promontories and flame-shaped peaks
Stopping the sombre stupendous glory, the storm-fed ocean? Look at the
Lobos rocks off the shore,
With foam flying their flanks . . .
is the earth not
Nor the great skies over the earth?
The beauty of things means virtue and value in them.
It is in the beholder's eye, not the world? Certainly,
It is the human mind's translation of the transhuman
Intrinsic glory. It means that world is sound . . ."