The promontory we chose faced the sun. A cool August day on the Lake Superior coastline, very much a dramatic symphony of water, wind, sky, rocks, and trees, had already taught us to let the sun direct our movements. Early in the day, my sister and I followed the sun from tree-line to water’s edge, beckoned by a promise of an open view. The lake stretched out in front of us. I loved the expanse of greys and blues and greens of water and sky filling my whole vision. But I couldn’t hold my attention to that great expanse. Waves performing flips off the rocks upon which we stood shouted up at me; leaves and branches from the lowest shrub to the tallest pines whistled and bowed at the wind’s greeting. My hair was already waving back when I realized that I was literally being swept into this great show. As receding waves made space for a new approach, the light marked deep brown, orange and red on water-sculpted rock. Another wave vaulted off the rocks, caught in light and wind that carried its cold spray back to me. I found myself immersed in a grandeur of stunning intricacy, vibrant detail, and relentless movement. It was rugged and wild. The cold, the movement, the color—all of it made me aware of an immensity and power far greater than myself. I didn’t know whether to go closer or to step back. I wanted to follow every sparkling spray and discern the origin of each wave, to find every distinct green from tree, to lichen, to water. Yet, it was entirely too much to contain and respond to. So I stood in awe. At noon, my sister and I followed a little river to the point where it meets the great lake. The pebbled beach ushering the river into the lake sparkled from the overhead sun. Suddenly, I thought I saw the pebbles move, only to realize that a flock of little brown ducks was waddling straight to the water. I caught my breath. The lake was so big and the ducks so small. Would these little ducks really brave the big lake, I wondered. Determined, the little ducks marched forward and dove headfirst into the approaching wave. At this point, other hikers had noticed the ducks, too. Various exclamations of surprise sounded across the rocks. We watched as the ducks shot out on the other side of the first wave, landed bouncily upon heaving water, and began bobbing precariously again before being thrust into the next wave, and the next, and the next. Somehow, they came through together each time. I felt like cheering after they settled into the elongated swaying of distant, inchoate waves. Formidable waves were met by formidable ducks. Now I stood with wonder, not at the grandeur of the power and dynamism which had earlier revealed my littleness, but at the loveliness of littleness encountering grandeur head-on, audaciously. As evening approached, we found the promontory facing the sun. Sun-warmed rock helped to surround us in the final movements of light. I could tell that the wind had already nestled into my cheeks from our day on the shore and I welcomed the sun’s final settling in as well. Under the last rays of light, myriad green leaves now gleamed gold and once blue water glowed white as if overlaid by a carpet of pearl. I watched my sister soaking in the sun from her rocky perch. It was the hour when light appears no longer as an overhead lamp, but as a spotlight illuminating particular subjects, ray by ray. A reverent gratitude warmed me as the sun faced my beautiful sister. While the sun dropped toward the horizon and we departed from our promontory view, I walked away marveling anew at the continued light facing me in the presence of someone I love.