Day Turns to Night

There is a day in the spring when we set our clocks forward an hour.  The sun shines into the evening and after dinner, enough light remains to shine on us for a stroll around the neighborhood.  The children's ears strain to be the first to detect the tinny notes of the ice cream truck's song.  Bathtime comes just before bedtime as we make sticky bodies ready for smooth sheets.

But there is also a day in autumn when clocks are wound back...and I can't help but embrace sentiments of this day, this season...

In late afternoon, the older children pull on socks and sweatshirts and leggings and run outside to soak up the what little warmth the sun still holds.  Sprawled on the sidewalk, Owen and Gavin create chalk designs while, through the clouds, the sun makes its own pink and orange pictures as it sink into the horizon.  Maddie weaves around them on her bicycle, her cheeks matching the colors of the sunset hour. 

Inside, I resist clicking on the lamp, instead boiling dinner potatoes by light of a candle flickering on top of the bookshelf.  In a moment between stirs, I tiptoe to the door to watch the children, breathing in the mingling aromas of roasting chicken and chill air and cider candle. 

And when Brian arrives home at day's end, bodies file inside, lights switch on, and volume swells, as mouths brim with hot food and tales of the day's exploits.  Curtains pulled shut against a now-gray sky, it feels cozy here.  A bit too noisy as Benjamin yells, "Neigh, neigh, neigh,"  in response to his sister's giggling inquiry as to what a horse says. And a bit too chaotic as everyone asks to have their bread buttered at once.  But it is cozy here, and I wouldn't trade this time, this season, for a million sunny evenings!