There are no seasons in Florida. No shifts to auburn, amber, or umber. No pale Winters. No visible demarcations to divide the times of the year. Nothing but fickle changes of temperature.
Perhaps the only discernible difference is the length of the light we’re given. As the winter approaches the days grow slowly darker. Dusk comes a little quicker. Each day with a whisper. A reminder that the darkness can be comforting. That slowing is essential. That dormancy is necessary.
But, then gradually something changes again. The light starts to trace a line across the ground further than it did before. Something in you quickens.
A renewal.
A vibrancy.
The light doesn't let up at the end of the work day. It stays out a little longer just for you. Invites you to play. Every activity feels more luminous because of it. Even standing still. You can’t help but think to yourself, maybe spring is a feeling. Maybe this is what gratitude is...
Beautiful, Duane.