Standing in the Sun

I stood in the sun yesterday on the southern porch. I had stopped, on a tour of the grounds, to admire the three lavender plants thriving there. It was a cool day and a winter sun. So, it warmed my chest against the chill morning air without trying to bake me as it would in the summer. It reminded me of other winter days when I found shelter from the wind and the cold, in the lee of a building or a rock, to be warmed by sparse sunlight. Tricks of the outdoor trade.

I had spent most of the morning mowing and trimming the last of the late growing grass, and it took no time at all. Hardly work. When I finished, I walked around thinking of the winter maintenance that would need doing perhaps some pulling of errant grass and the like. It’s always easiest in the winter, when the ground is laid bare by the absence of foliage. Thankfully, there’s not a great deal to be done this year because of my previous work of pulling and mulching.

But winter is yet to come. We’re still in fall. The trees are turning, leaves are falling. Grass is still green in places, but the frantic growth of spring and summer is only a memory. At some point a hard freeze will come and lock everything into place, creating a stasis of sorts. Then it will be a time to pause and reflect and think about what has been and what might be. To take stock. To miss those that are gone, think about those still here, and wonder about those yet to come. To find time to stand on the southern porch and savor the thin winter sun.