I don't need a calendar this time of year to tell me that we are just a few short days away from the summer solstice. In the morning the sun's rays march along my kitchen wall, shining through the east-facing door. illuminating the far reaches of the house where sunlight never hits the other months of the year. I glory in the golden honey light that bathes those corners of the house and spreads its joy to bless my day.
And at sunset I often stand on my west-facing porch, waiting to see where the sinking sun will finally go behind the hills of Caney. Like a sundial, the light tells me that we are almost at mid-year. It even appears in my east bedroom, sunshine dipping in the open door to cover the quilt on my bed with red and gold and maybe purple. And as it is with the morning sunrise, the sunset light never enters that room except when it reaches its northern most point in the western sky.
The joy of living on a hill appeals to me. The eternal movement of the sun reminds me that I am a mere speck in the universe. But, oh how fortunate I am to see the changing of the season and wonder at the majesty of it all.
Sunset, and sunrise.
