We were in Massachusetts last week at my parents’ house. My absolute favorite time of each day began around 4:45 in the evening, during the last moments of daylight. I would turn out all the lights on the main floor so I could fully enjoy it. Sometimes I put on quiet music or lit a candle or had a glass of champagne or cup of tea. Sometimes all I did was stare out the window.
First there is the radiant yellow/orange glow of the sun’s last stance. Then the light leaves but there remains a blue glow for about a half hour before the dark completely settles in. During my day-to-day routine in New York the morning is the most sacred time for me. The time that I light a candle and look out the window and feel the most connected to…something bigger. I was lazy there in Massachusetts and rolled out of bed in pajamas and drank coffee took the time to chat with my mom. The evening became the sacred time and I suppose now that I think about it, the orientation of the house also factors in. Here we face East. My parents’ house (condo) has a main view facing West. The sun’s arrival or departure, a beginning or an end or a different beginning, or the other way around. Two entirely different spaces.
Winter’s solitary quiet makes it easier to pause and be attentive to these transitions, to recognize these everyday but awe-inspiring events with the reverence they deserve.