Daylight


8 a.m. and the horizon was alight – winter, finally, is on the downhill slide. It’s also above zero temps today, which means the monitor’s baseline setting of 62 F is content to bide with 68 degrees F of ambient indoor comfort. February, one of the “F’s” in my life. It, along with Fall, generates a lot of restlessness, makes me irritable, and spawns endless imaginings of escape to the bush. For today, though, the fact that I could see at 8 a.m. means there’s no denying winter’s grip is loosening.
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Water-hauling today, and a nice pan of bread pudding. The house smells of nutmeg and rum baked into a sweet custard topped with sugar and cinnamon. The floor is swept, the dryer just tumbled to a stop, and yesterday’s crock of rib-eye steaks in garlic, onion and wine is on the menu for tonight. I’m thinking tomorrow may be a good day for roasting a turkey. In fact, all things possible are cropping up so I know the season, while not quite changing, has been served notice by the sun that its hold is not going to last. Like a rainbow, daylight is a promise of things to come.

I wonder if I’ll ever forget to appreciate the first inkling of change – in life, in weather, in seasons? I hope not. As long as my being is connected to the earth, and my mind is capable of daydreaming, I’ll believe in cycles of life, the hope of things to come. That’s what I get up for in the morning. All good.

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