From the Editors February 25, 2013 Issue

Reflected light

The Editors

At sunrise one morning, a tall vase of hydrangeas in a west-facing Victorian parlor caught shafts of light that brought out all the colors and threw entrancing shadows across a cherry-wood table.

Later that day, the top of a cypress in a planter facing east in a row of elegant brownstone houses that the sun had long since left, glowed gold—revealing what looked suspiciously like a smile.

Reflection from high windows opposite those grateful recipients had transformed their appearance, along with other windows all the way down that avenue to the house where the founder of this magazine, Mary Baker Eddy, taught many classes. For those windows, sunrise and sunset had momentarily been reversed—freed of the restraints of time—confirming that there are no holds on beauty or goodness! City canyons that normally would never see the sun glowed in reflected light.

Send a comment to the editors

This is the end of the issue. Ready to explore further?

Online features Audio