Monday, March 9, 2009
Old Routine + New Hour
The time change always throws our tidy days for a loop. (Loops can be fun . . . or not.) Around here we welcome the longer daylight hours, but find it a struggle to regain our bearings this first week. This morning when I woke Rachel for an earlier-than-usual piano lesson, due to the teacher’s scheduling conflicts, she struggled awake and answered my morning call before I left the room. When I returned 10 minutes later she had fallen back to bed. I implored her to get going and she popped up saying, “I thought I was up!”
Such will be the timbre over the next few days – willing hearts, but dragging bodies. Who would have thought that one hour this way or that could make such a difference? Years ago I decided that the time-change would signal a holiday of sorts. The routine would have to relax and flex while the little bodies (and big ones, too) adjusted.
I find it particularly disconcerting as I use the sun and shadows as my primary timekeeper, having eschewed a watch when I walked away from my corporate days. When the sun peeks just so I delight in the thought of a cup of tea. Another moving shadow warns that dinner must be set about if dining will follow on time. And so my day goes as I gaze out the windows or walk along the garden paths. For today I will sip afternoon tea off schedule and we shall dine a wee bit later, and also snacks will flow freely throughout the day as tummies adjust.
So, I set the bread to rise, put a roast into the oven, simmered the makings for pate (chicken livers, red wine, onions, garlic, and yummy spices) atop the stove, and set about the business of watching for the newness of the times.
Schoolwork and chores flowed as usual. Laundry, vacuuming, and dishes all fit neatly into allotted times. Why this feeling of being behind? It must be due to the fast traveling sun in the blue sky chopped through with weighty rain clouds. My most recent rut of a routine hasn’t adapted to the gift of a longer day, and thus whispers, “Hurry before darkness falls.” It all feels new today in that sense of the unexpected and uncontrollable.
Solution? A pot of tea and a slice of bread spread with sweet butter taken in the sunny sliver breaking forth into my keeping room. I shall thumb through the new coffee-table beauty of a book on Hummingbirds I picked up at the library’s weekend booksale (for $1) along with several other interesting reads from the stack begging to be sorted and shelved according to subject. Even the books fall into limbo this day. In fact, this post feels rather limbo-ish . . .
Hmmmmmm . . . I think I shall take a walk around the gardens for a bit of fresh air as soon as my teacup empties (the bread has been gobbled up long ago). Maybe when I return with pinked cheeks and chilled fingers I will have lost the feeling of limbo.
Any one else feeling a bit off with the change of the hours?