A Study in Contrasts

Yesterday was a day that neared perfection, if you leave out the part where Clover tried to dig up my yard and flowerbeds. We were the beneficiaries of a beautiful, sunny, breezy 70 degree day. I spent most of the day outside swinging, knitting, playing, gardening and walking the pup. I wore flip flops and not so much as a sweater all day. Walking through the green space directly behind our house, puppy hopping around chasing leaves blowing in the wind, I lifted my face to the sun shining down through the bare trees, closed my eyes and soaked up the unexpected joy of feeling that warmth on my skin, the rain swollen river rushing by, the birds singing as loudly as they could. It was one of those perfect moments in time that you hope you can etch into your memory for always. I went home, opened the windows, stripped the damp bedding from the porch day bed, dressed it with a fresh quilt, threw open the curtains and read a few pages of a magazine. Glorious. Dinner was eaten on the front porch with my sweetie, visiting with neighbors and trying to make the day last as long as possible because I knew today would bring a day of rain and temperatures in the 30's.

Before I fell asleep, in a house that was slightly too warm to be comfortable but refusing to turn on air conditioning in February, I felt slightly antagonistic about the day to come. It seemed unfair to get that little tease of spring and then get plunged back to reality the next day. The truth is that without the contrasts we can't really appreciate either day and there is beauty to be found in both extremes.

This morning I woke up early to the sound of heavy rain. I curled up in bed and read and cuddled my kitty for a little while before getting up to start the day. I decided it was a good morning to make the carpool run in pajamas since there was no dog walking in my immediate future. Now I sit in the studio having just finished my tea and chocolate croissant and having just knitted a few rows on my large, cozy shawl that was too warm to knit on yesterday. I have Sam Cooke playing in the background, Emma's cat who is trying desperately to become my lap cat after almost 7 years of disdain for me, warming my legs, candles burning, fairy lights on as I alternate preparing for my next knitting project, putting fabrics together for a sewing project and reading. A slow, quiet day that can be savored and lived intentionally.

It is then that the truth occurs to me. I like this day every bit as much as I liked yesterday. Sometimes we need to lift our face up to the rain as much as the sun.