January 105, 2018

20180415_102442.jpgThe wind and cold have lingered this season of should-be-spring until suddenly it was 90ᵒ Thursday and 87ᵒ Friday. Saturday it snowed.

Friday, Kansas’ forecast included fire-warnings, unseasonable heat, blizzards, tornado warnings and rain-with-hail.
Bless your heart, Kansas.

I cannot complain; friends up north are digging out from beneath mounds of April snow.

Yesterday, after sliding through what must have been hot yoga, the snow and rain and wind sent me indoors to read under a quilted heap. There was some cooking, but I ate most of that bacon for breakfast, lunch and a pre-movie snack…and a late-night snack.

Sometime about 3:30 p.m. yesterday, I wondered if the fickle and delayed spring has been the catalyst to my endless-winter cloistering and Hobbiting. Not a lot of German-inspired industriousness at home lately. My recycling tower resembles Pisa’s leaning tower and though the laundry is clean, some has become decoration. Instead of my over-active responsibility gene firing, I’ve been curling up with books or allowing myself to sink into the digital miasma of distraction.

Is it completely maladaptive to rest and hibernate a bit? To take stock and build space within and without? Read and wonder and daydream for a season?

I am again under heaps of colorful quilts; watching the late morning light roll into the flat, bounce off mirrors and glass, and spotlight pictures of once tiny Magpie and Kenan and Rachel’s starry painting.

I’ve been following the shine all morning.
Tracking it.

Even though I know the general physics of light and am often fortunate to witness the sun’s gossiping about my room, I love it still.

I love it like a  bear loves clover honey.
The wonder of it still makes me stop and stare.

Most mornings, I must head to work. But on these days of quiet week-ends, I have time and space to watch in wonder. To wait for the light show as the sun rises. To dust off the prisms in my window to invite the spectra which bounce and lolly about my cozy home.

Winter helps to channel the sun-at-play. Without leaves on the trees and humidity and dust in the atmosphere, the sun shines less-filtered into my home. The chilly apartment and wintry weather on this flat prairie means that my outdoor adventures are fewer than during kayaking and Konza season or if ski slopes were nearby. I am home to bear witness to the playful sun.

Typically, it is more fun to have people here in the mornings – kids to drink coffee with and pals go adventuring with…a wonderdog to boot me out of bed – but it is the lonelier mornings when the sun arcs and roygbivs are most noticeable. Unforgotten. Most appreciated. A gift for solitary people whose windows face the eastern sky.

In this season of building, awareness and appreciation are good outcomes. Sun-at-play and quiet conspire to be good teachers. Stretching spectra are unintended gifts of lonelier mornings.

I am a fortunate woman. Friends by day and evening, sun-at-play most mornings. Daydreaming as the wind lifts the roof.

Derring-do in the quiet places, Friends.


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