Charubel's image for this degree is pure perspective: a vista extending to a great distance, with majestic trees on either hand covered with a profusion of foliage. This is the avenue view, the oldest trick of landscape art, two lines of planted giants converging toward a point the eye cannot quite reach, and it earns its place in Capricorn by what such an avenue requires: someone planted it, in rows, long ago, and someone has kept it, and the person standing in it now receives, as a single glance, the compounded patience of a century. The vista is what long time looks like when it is organised.
Read against the fourteenth degree of the sign the image describes the faculty of long sight, the ability to see a life, a work or an institution as one line running to the horizon, and it insists on the trees, because a bare road to the distance is desolation, while the same road flanked by profuse, majestic growth is invitation. The foliage matters: this long view is alive along its whole length, shade and abundance at every stage, not a desert crossed for a distant prize. That is the degree's correction to Capricorn's harsher habit of stripping the journey to reach the goal. The shadow readings are the vista admired and never walked, perspective as a substitute for progress, and the walker so fixed on the vanishing point that thirty years of green goes unnoticed on either side. On a natal Sun, Saturn or Midheaven this degree tends to mark planners with genuinely long horizons, and its counsel holds both truths: keep the far point in view, and take the shade as you go, since the avenue was planted for the walking and not only for the arriving.