Without darkness, nothing comes to birth, As without light, nothing flowers.
Gerry throws open the curtains in the bedroom and I see an outline of mountains across the valley visible through the smoke this morning. That’s improvement, and a good start to the week.
Still, I feel the need to dig through my photo archives to find an image that depicts sunshine. These tulips will do. I shot them back in January when winter held us in its icy grip and true spring was but a promise.
The sun shines bright in January. It reflects off the snow and invites ice crystals to dance in the frigid air. In January, as the first blush of spring fever hits, we buy tulips at the grocery store.
Now it is August, and we are closer to the coming January than the one that passed. Summer is waning and we try to ignore subtle hints of the changing season. Sunshine and warm afternoons are all the more precious.
And so on this smoky-but-better Monday morning I will chop vegetables and make soup. I’ll put it in jars and process it to make it shelf-stable. The full-and-pretty canning jars will take their place on the shelf in the downstairs storage room.
One day, at noon on a frigid and snowy day in the January that is to come, I’ll grab a couple of jars of soup for our lunch and l’ll remember, with gratitude, the gifts of this summer and look forward to the one that is yet to come.
And so it goes.