It begins with the light.
Different this morning, although not really anything you can single out. The sun comes up, shines; the sky is blue, the trees are naked.
The grass still shivers and the only blooms are the brave-hearted snowdrops. But something has changed.
No matter what the calendar says, no matter if there’s a blizzard tomorrow—a corner has been turned. The squirrels know it and so do the doves, the neighbourhood stray and the fly that landed on my arm today as I sat reading on the patio. It’s like hair. One day it’s perfectly fine, like it’s been for weeks or months, and the next [and you will never know how this can happen] it’s changed and it needs a cut and it will not be fine again until you cut it.
Spring arrives like that. Overnight. And suddenly everything is different. Regardless of weather, it will not be winter again until the last month of the year.
So we go for a walk on this beautiful spring day, Peter and I.
We walk to the grocery store to buy some baby food for Jake The Cat who’s a bit plugged up with shedding-his-winter-coat hairballs; my cat book recommends a recipe involving a veggie/meat blend along with melted butter, psyllium husks and water.
It’s about twenty minutes, if that, through a ravine and a park where, amongst all that loveliness, somehow people decide to just drop things and carry on.
We carry bags to scoop up the debris.
Back home again, I bake what could be my favourite thing in the world— today I use (local, frozen from summer) cherries.
And while I do, the sun shines in on my beach glass [and sunshine on my beach glass makes me happy…]
I read outside.
And I read inside.
I vacuum downstairs, but not upstairs.
I write a little. Not a lot.
And too soon the sun is on the other side of the house and making those end of day shadows on the guy across the street’s garage door and the wall in the living room and I put chicken wings in the oven and shrimps on the barbie…
— and Peter pours glasses of wine and today’s light will soon be gone but it was here and it was spring light, and before it fades and turns suddenly too cold to sit outside comfortably…
…I sit comfortably.
Note: Jake The Cat ate his ‘recipe’ and, later, things cleared up nicely. [In case you were wondering.]
6 thoughts on “here is a day”
Love the photo of your window sill! I could just feel the sunshine warming my world while viewing and reading. Thanks for sharing such positive thoughts.
I like window sills too. Something a-foot-in-two-worlds about them… the inside looking out, and vice versa. Sunny windows… yes. :)
You had a lovely day blessed by the most perfect light.
I’ve been wondering what to do with all the bits of beach glass I can’t stop myself from collecting. In a glass jar in the sunlight–yes! Not just scattered loose along the windowsill.
Your favourite thing to eat makes me think of an Austrian torte more than a tart.
I got the idea a few years ago at a B&B in Twillingate, Nfld., where a small jar of sea glass was on a shelf in the bathroom. Something about it just struck me as so lovely and the image has stayed with me. I can still see this daft little shelf… funny what sticks.
BTW, interesting that you mention it’s probably more a torte than a tart because I keep calling it a torte and then correcting myself because of the ‘tarty’ title. I should learn to trust my DNA. I have a nose for a torte.
Happy spring! Glad to see you’re back in sandals!
Me and my smiling feet. :)