Warmth and light

On Thursday, I looked up from my email at 6 p.m. to discover, though the sun had sunk behind the mountains, there was still light in the sky. Friday was brilliant and clear, with a high temperature in the 60s. A bright sunrise filled my bedroom with early light, and it occurred to me that I've been waking progressively earlier recently, in little bits and increments. I drove to the grocery store in a sweatshirt, with the windows down, listening to the Hallmark Sounds of Halloween tape that Marianne gave me. In the evening, Marianne, Andrew and I walked to new resident artist Amy Tavern's housewarming party. The warmth and light of the day were liberating; in the winter, I feel trapped, cut off, but Friday I felt a part of the world, free to walk around in the open air. It was like being reborn. Today it is chilly and gray; winter is far from gone, but I have gotten a hopeful reminder that it won't last forever.
In Dakota: A Spiritual Geography, Kathleen Norris writes,
"Weather Report: February 10 - Spring seems far off, impossible, but it is coming. Already there is dusk instead of darkness at five in the afternoon; already hope is stirring at the edges of the day."