Sunlight

After a mix of clouds and wind and rain and cold, I was pleased to be greeted by early morning sunlight as I left for my morning walk. The streets were still damp from their recent soaking and the slick reflections on the pavement resembled, oddly, black ice (in 50-degree weather). The greens and yellows on Peters Hill were vibrating in the absence of wind and rain; it was a minor celebration of sunlight.

This is what the passing of a storm feels like. I hadn’t realized, over the past few days, that I’d been tensing my shoulders against the onslaught. When it ended, I could feel the difference.

I take simple pleasure in the vagaries of weather. It changes all the time and judgment is out of place, given its variety. Other aspects of our world are less subject to that flexibility – when things, institutions, relationships are broken, they are less likely to repair themselves. And we’ve seen a lot of that sort of upheaval. Perhaps we can take on the task of resistance and repair, hard though it is.