Monday, December 21, 2009

Solstice


It is the winter Solstice - shortest day of the year, longest night. This is a summer picture of light on my sunroom floor. It will be months before the sun again shines at an angle which gives me these kind of shadows, but from this day forward, we begin tilting towards the light. Today the sun rose at 8:24 a.m. and set at 4:30 p.m. which means 8 hours and 6 minutes of day, 15 hours and 54 minutes of night. No wonder I am searching my files, looking for pictures of light, no wonder the little stone angel in my backyard is facing the east and warming a little bird in her hands. She is actually missing one wing and a halo, so she is kind of stuck here, with the rest of us, watching shadows change, doing mental math with minutes of sunlight. We have only a little fresh snow on the ground. Until recently it has been too cold for snow, but today, at noon, the sun was shining at just the right angle to make the new flakes sparkle. We look for light where we can find it.




1 comment:

  1. She's quite lovely and one wing seems to work just fine! Too cold to snow? Now that is NOT all right. 40 below? Oy. I've been putting up storm windows for days (warmish Nov and early Dec lulled me into thinking, somehow, it just wasn't going to get cold) and now I'm put rope caulking around the windows, too, as --even with storm windows-- its a bit breezy in here. All about the weather. I'm sure you're one wing friend will help. . .

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Summer View From My Kitchen Window

Summer View From My Kitchen Window
I am already more than a week into my summer holidays and just beginning to settle into this greenest of seasons - so glad to be at home with my windows and my light. I am just learning how to post these blogs, spending too much time in front of my computer, not enough time with the sky.  The morning began with thunder - an hour of pouring rain and thunder!!  Long after sunrise, the sky was still dark and ominous, but then suddenly the sun broke through. I put on my garden shoes, grabbed my camera, and went out to the flowers . . .   

After the Rain

After the Rain
After all that wild weather, the day lily leaves were covered with such quiet raindrops . . . 

After the Rain

After the Rain
One side of my yard is lined with leafy peonies - the grandmother of all flowers - pink, white, deep, deep red.  I have been deadheading the flowers all week long, but this one, just opening, survived the storm. I have lived in my house for nearly twenty years; these peonies were here long before I moved in and with any luck will be here long after I am gone.