That unusual light you see in the window and trees pictured above is sunshine. You remember that, don't you? Say it again, slowly: sun shine. Longer days without sunshine [dis]temper my normally sunny disposition. But on afternoons like today, partly sunny, temperature over 20, the world seems headed in the right direction. Driving through Carlos Avery on my way home from work, I could almost see the open water. In another five or six weeks, the geese should be back. Music for this time of year includes "Here comes the sun" -- Richie Havens' version please, Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter; "Sunny Goodge Street" -- Judy Collins' version please, Drinking the sun, Shining all around you; and maybe even Sunshine on my shoulder, of course, the John Denver version -- Sunshine almost always makes me high.
This afternoon's sunshine, which makes stars day-blind, reminds me of a Wendel Berry poem I'd like to share with you:
The Peace of Wild Things
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
— Wendell Berry
As I wrote yesterday, soon we should be able to enjoy wood drakes and herons resting and feeding on water. For today, enjoy the Peace of Wild Things in My Minnesota and, please, stop back again soon.