by jphilo | Sep 23, 2014 | Top Ten Tuesday
The September equinox left the building two days ago. That means shrinking daylight hours and increasing hours of darkness for the next several months. Not my favorite time of year. But in an effort to think positive, I came up with ten things to appreciate this season of darkness.
10. Unemployment will go down as work hours expand for burglars and peeping toms.
9. It gets dark soon enough to take kids outside to play with sparklers before bedtime. Yes, toes and fingers and bums will freeze. But we are thinking positive, remember?
8. Burned out lightbulbs are more obvious and therefore are replaced sooner.
7. Sunscreen bills go way, way down. No need to mention that heat and lighting bills go up because that wouldn’t be positive. At. All.
6. Less daylight means people won’t notice dirt in the corners of my car/bathroom/kitchen/closets. You get the idea.
5. Those who wait to binge watch TV series on DVDs and Netflix don’t have to wait so long.
4. Putting on jammies right after supper is perfectly acceptable when it’s dark outside.
3. Long, cozy, dark nights + reading lamp = more hours to read!
2. Long, dark nights + cold + nasty weather = a perfect reason to stay home and write.
1. Once each day’s minutes of darkness overtake the minutes of daylight, only three months remain until the December solstice when daylight hours start increasing again!
by jphilo | Nov 26, 2011 | Reflections on the Past
If you read yesterday’s post which listed three Thanksgiving faves, you might be assuming today’s entry continues the holiday weekend favorites theme. In which case, the color of choice would be black because of Black Friday.
A logical thought, but not quite where this post is going.
This post is going for a memory triggered by this morning’s sunrise. Or more specifically, by my sister’s comment about the lovely Minnesota sunrise visible from their four season porch. “Look,” she said, “it’s sky blue pink with a heavenly border.”
Something stirred deep inside, and I asked, “What did you say?”
“Sky blue pink with a heavenly border. That’s what Dad always said when we asked him to name his favorite color.”
Suddenly, Dad was with us, two little girls hanging on the arms of his wheelchair. Two little girls asking, “What’s your favorite color?’
“Mine’s blue,” my big sister said.
“Mine’s pink,” I added.
“And mine,” Dad winked and grinned, “is a little bit of both. Sky blue pink with a heavenly border.”
The true meaning of his words went over my head and into my heart where it lay dormant for decades. Until this morning, when my sister commented on the sunrise, and I understood that Dad – a man normally more attuned to humor and practicality than to poetic and artistic thought – loved the beauty of sunrise.
From now on – whether my morning walk proceeds under gloomy, grey skies or those streaked blue and pink and orange by the rising sun – if you inquire about my favorite color, the answer will always be the same.
“Sky blue pink with a heavenly border.”
Thank you, Dad, for loving beauty more than you let on.
