It rained all day. There was the promise of snow, but it was indistinguishable from the drops of rain. It was dark and wet all day. We did very little, which I resigned myself to about 3 this afternoon. Do nothing day, officially declared.
Now the gray light that filled our day is gone and it is dark and wet and cold. Ann is cooking dinner and Rubin is chowing down a bowl of kibble and chicken. For some reason it is this light that I love so much. It's not a natural light, but a warm light of the kitchen and the study, the lamp light in the living room and the glowing light above the stove where Ann is cooking.
I was glad when the winter solstice passed. The days would grow longer, more light to live by. But occasionally, I like this winter light or winter dark is more appropriate. Our house feels soft. Our house feels like a nesting place, a place where we can just do nothing and feel little to no guilt.
Ann never feels guilt about such days. I did for the first half, but then, lying on the couch with a book to finish and that lamp light warm above my head, the guilt faded away, much like the light of day and I settled into the darkness.
Now dinner is ready and we'll sit in that glow of the kitchen and talk about making cookies tonight -- a perfect endeavor on a dark, rainy night.
2 comments:
I love days like this. There is something very comforting about feeling warm and secure while looking out the window at a damp cold dark day. No guilt in that, isn't that what all the animals of the world do? Hybernate?
The lighting, thr smell of food cooking, the dog content and looking over at your partner preparing you dinner makes your heart grow with love. Its a beautiful thing. I am gad you enjoyed the day. I think this is what they mean when they say the best things in life are free.
You described it so well, that palpable light, and how hard it can be sometimes to do nothing but bask in it. Why is that, I wonder?
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