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Daylight Savings

What, really, does it mean to save daylight?

We change our clocks in a misguided effort to somehow change the nature of days. In reality, of course, a day is a day, twenty-four hours, however you slice it. The silliness and hubris that resulted in having us change our clocks every six months or so does not change the fact that a day is a day. It does irritate and bother many people and dogs, however.

I propose a different approach.

Since saving daylight, in a physical sense, is not actually possible, I suggest we try to save daylight within ourselves. We could strive to save up all those golden hours, the ones that are lit up by the sun as well as those that lit us up on the inside, the ones that made us feel happy, loved, and contented. We all have those. We don’t need calendars or clocks or politicians to tell us when those hours are happening, or why. We don’t need to confine them to certain months of the year. And maybe we could store up those bright happy hours for the darker times, when we struggle to find reasons to smile.

Let’s put all of those hours in our Daylight Savings Accounts, tucked away and banked for the lean times, when we need them.

It might even help to write them down, keep a running list, and hang it up on the wall. Then on those gloomy, grim days, when we feel beset with the world’s problems or our own, we could take a peek at our Daylight Savings Accounts and think, Oh yes, there’s that, still bright and lovely, still gaining interest! And what about that lovely time? I remember that. That still makes me smile. And we’d see how much, really, we have banked, stored carefully away, untouchable by whatever might be getting us down right now.

That’s what I call Daylight Savings! That is something I can get on board with. What about you?

“I object to being told that I am saving daylight when my reason tells me that I am doing nothing of the kind . . . At the back of the Daylight Saving scheme, I detect the bony, blue-fingered hand of Puritanism, eager to push people into bed earlier, and get them up earlier, to make them healthy, wealthy, and wise in spite of themselves.”― Robertson Davies, The Papers of Samuel Marchbanks

“He asked me once what I wanted when I died, what I wanted out of life, and I told him I just wanted more happy memories than sad ones.”― R. YS Perez, I Hope You Fall in Love

“Happy memories are the best shields against unhappy days.” ― T.M Cicinski, A Patchwork Of Moonlight And Shadow

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. If you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Storybook Day

This morning I awoke grumpy. Rufus had fidgeted, scratched and rearranged himself in my bed for the last two hours of my sleep. And those two hours had been arbitrarily changed from 4:30-6:30 to 5:30-7:30 because of Daylight Savings Time. Not a fan. Now the sun is rising at 7:20. Grr. But I’ll not labor over that or burden you with my many thoughts on that subject. It was also a very gloomy morning, no crack in the deep cloud cover for brightness or blue to poke through. I thought, “This could be a storybook day if only there was even a tiny opening or two in those clouds, or clouds chasing each other across the sky, or perhaps a fall of rain or even a thunderstorm.” And then perhaps cookies would be baked.

Storybook days are those blustery, cloud-thick days, like we do have often enough in March and November. They invite nostalgia for childhood and for my sons’ childhoods. They make me want to fill up little books with pictures and scribblings, things pasted in, perhaps. Or maybe I’d mess about with small pots of paint or decide to write something, pausing now and then for an oatmeal cookie with bits of chocolate inside. These are days when I can imagine a squirrel named Russell having tea and crumpets with a couple of young rabbits (Olivia and Charlotte) and a dashing red fox called Leroy, all well-mannered and polite. Perhaps they’d tell of a recent adventure. Or plan one!

I took my dogs out the door for a short walk around the neighborhood, observing the various newnesses of near-Spring–Naked Lady shoots, spiky gumballs lying around, broken acorns on the ground, as well as wondering at the disrepair of a grand old house on Broadway–why? And then guess what? A light drizzling rain started up! Voila! Storybook day. This really put a spring in my step and improved my attitude. Once again nature proves that just about any day is better when you’re out in it than when you’re just inside, feeling crabby about the clock and judging the day by its cloud cover.

I’d like to share this beautiful writing from Pema Chodron, something a friend sent me when I was laid up with broken bones and could not do anything, not even read a book. It was hugely comforting.

“On a day of silence like today, when things are very still, you may find that you are feeling grim and doing everything with a grim expression: grimly opening the door, grimly drinking your water, concentrating so hard on being quiet and still, moving so slowly that you’re miserable. On the other hand, you could just relax and realize that, behind all the worry, complaint and disapproval that goes on in your mind, the sun is always coming up in the morning, moving across the sky, and going down in the evening. The birds are always out there collecting their food and making their nests and flying across the sky. The grass is always being blown by the wind or standing still. Food and flowers and trees are growing out of the Earth. There’s enormous richness. You could develop your passion for life and your curiosity and interest. You could connect with your joyfulness. You could start right now . . . Acknowledging the preciousness of each day is a good way to live, a good way to connect with our basic joy.”

I hope you find lots of little ways to connect with your joyfulness on this day and all of them.

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. And if you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Daylight Savings

I do not count the days to the sudden
artificial lengthening of days no
instead I mourn the loss of a winter that
never was the perfect hush of deep snow
the feeling of our silly importances 
at a standstill and by the way isn’t it 
just as well to observe the gradual change
in light and dark without some unholy
arrogants deciding that on an arbitrary
day now this one now that suddenly
seven o’clock is six and yes 
six is five midnight only eleven 
the sun itself now rises and sets
(as they suppose) at the convenience 
of Men? God save us! from their
terrible ridiculous pride.