We live in a clapboard house, and one of our seasonal rituals is to place electric candles in each of the muntined windows when Daylight Savings Time ends in November. Seeing their cheerful glow in the early darkness always lightens my heart and is a harbinger of the warmth of home and the holiday spirits ahead.
The advent of DST again in the spring is our signal to put those lights away until fall, and that's what I did today: carefully removing their batteries and placing them in a bin to go into the attic. As I completed this small chore, I remembered the promises the candles and their light seem to make each autumn, and it made me a little sad to see them go. I also wondered what the next eight months might bring and who I will be early next November when its time to get them down again.
The windows were open as I worked, though. Yesterday's chill was replaced by soft spring air, warm and a bit muggy. I could hear birds twittering and tweeting as they hopped about their own tasks, readying for the longer days ahead, but fully present in the moment. I snapped the bin shut, slid it into its place in the attic, and headed out into this spring day.
I loved this. Seasonal rituals and tasks are so important to a life, and this is such a lovely one that you described in such a thoughtful way. I do the same thing when I change out the storm windows for screens -- what will have happened to me/the world the next time I do this.
ReplyDeleteWhat a nice tradition with the candles in the windows during the winter months. And how perceptive you are to wonder who you will be come November. What a thoughtful/thought-provoking post!
ReplyDeleteI really loved this slice. You describe the changes in season so well, and the cycle of traditions that mark the passage of a year for us- the line "I wonder who I will be when it's time to get them down again" reminds us that we change along with the time.
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