Sunlight has broken through the clouds — and I mean that literally. In the hours before my writing of this column, dark clouds overshadowed the sun. The day was dreary and cold, seeming to reflect the day’s stress back at me.
And then, with about maybe a half-hour of sunlight left, the clouds broke.
The darkness seemed to rise from the horizon like a curtain opening to a theater stage, revealing a brilliant band of blue sky behind. The edge was feathered in white hues and the sun made its presence known.
Golden light fell on the corn plant and the rubber tree that reside next to my desk, causing me to pause from work and inhale the beauty. The previously darkened room suddenly seemed to be dancing with softly reflected rays.
It was a respite, albeit brief, as welcome as a cold drink after a long run.
Around this time of the year, my mood is intrinsically tied to the amount of sunlight I can get. Bundling up and going outside becomes a necessity. Even just a few minutes can recharge my mental battery and turn around my mood.
This year, that’s been easier said than done.
Between the pandemic and the lackluster snowfall we’ve seen so far — with far more raw days than wintry ones — the outdoors hasn’t been quite as inviting as it’s seemed to be in the past.
But as I’ve learned from experience, it’s in those moments that I need nature the most. And, it’s in those moments, when my mind is filled with busyness and stress and I need respite the most, that nature inevitably seems to grab my attention — like clouds breaking on an overcast day.
Andy Castillo can be reached at acastillo@recorder.com.