Angels' light

A strange light fell across the woods below the cabin. Accented against a fashionable shade of gray sky and deeper grays in the woods which the light failed to illuminate, a small area fought back against the gloom. More striking than most you see in Alaska, it was one of those lighted areas that show up on some pretty dismal days and you can always spot one if you are elevated enough to see any distance at all. A black forest will suddenly yield to a bright gold meadow and then to black again, a bright red spot on an otherwise dusky tundra, the chartreuse green shining below a mountain forest that lines a beach.

This was that kind of light only brighter, perhaps because it was closer and perhaps because it reflected off snow still clinging to every branch in every tree.

Angels' light. When The Archangel in a foul mood decides to let everyone know by using the gray sky curtains masks the land to match his mood, that is the day we get. But the angels lie in wait and as soon as he turns his back or bends to sip his cappuccino or perhaps catch a quick nap, they pull back seams in the curtains and allow some light to brighten the otherwise gray landscape. Then, giggling, they run away, leaving the light to shine for those who chance to see it and, too, wait to hear the uproar when their little prank is discovered. But he knows, he always knows and there are never any repercussions.