Member-only story
Sometimes, the Light.
Another winter under the belt, I muse.
The sun is gradually setting higher in the evening sky.
But, she is having a bit of trouble this evening. She doesn’t want to go to bed at all. Resisting like a toddler, poking her blonde head up off the horizon for one last look before nightfall.
All the evening birds celebrate her reluctance.
More! More! Please! they beg.
Spring peepers echo their approval, along with legions of whirring American Toads, intent on their springtime urges.
Sometimes, when the light is right, you can witness a sublime moment of clarity — as if all of creation suddenly sees its reflection in a mirror, and stops briefly to admire itself.
The world is suddenly alive with new colors — grass that’s suddenly so green, it almost hurts your eyes. Goldfinches that look like fine-porcelain figurines that have come to life.
Even the weeds in the flower beds are back — and they’re more beautiful than ever!
The great wheel is turning with the rhythm of life.
