akirlu | The Magic of Returning Light

This morning, the sky was actually starting to get pale by 6:00 am, and it was quite light when I walked down to my train, even though I wasn't running late at all. The clear days are glorious now, even when they're cold. Northwest light is hard and direct and scalpel sharp, and it cuts the loveliest, stark shadows. Also, by now I'm hungry for it, right down in my bones. January is the grimmest month; by February the little increments of longer daylight are noticeable, and I salute them each day with my little agnostic hosannas. And by March you can splash around in your rain boots in all the ambient light, which is lucky, because by March the February widow's mite of sun is just not enough. Getting more just makes me greedy, I guess.

Of course, more light makes the morning walk more distracting, because there's more stuff to see around the neighborhood. And I'm carrying a camera again. Last week the reflected sunrise in the windows and clouds behind the train station was too arresting to miss.

This morning the sun was already up when I got to the train station -- no sunrise magic until daylight savings smoodges things around for us.

Monday I got snagged by the reflections in one of the permanent puddles near Mill Creek.

Pity the puddle shot wasn't brilliant -- stopping even briefly for the picture made me miss my train. But the camera doesn't always catch what the eye sees.

(Mill Creek produces prodigious wet for such a small creek -- it must soak into the ground pretty thoroughly there at the bottom of the hill. Some of the rain puddles persist year around, and in winter they're big enough for the mallards to fly in and land on. I think that makes them small ponds, doesn't it? A few of the houses down near the creek even have Artesian upwellings in their border plantings, and permanent green algae patches in their driveways.) Speaking of ducks, as of this week the Mill Creek mallards all seem to have paired off. I haven't seen the dark not-a-mallard drake in a while, but perhaps he's paired off too -- you don't see them all all the time.

Next week, I predict the Yoshino cherry trees on the Quad will start blooming. Already I've seen a lot of plums in bloom, and the plum-like fruiting trees down by the Arby's which might be some sort of cherry, really. My crocus are blooming and our own injured plum tree may survive -- the plums down by the creek have been pruned back far harder by the city and seem to be all right. We live in hope. Meanwhile, I'm just pleased to have sunny mornings when I walk in to the office. Spring is a fine thing.