What time is it again?

Posted on March 9, 2014

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Last night I was talking to my sister Cheri, who lives in North Carolina. We were having a little supper together at the end of the day even though we live many hundreds of miles apart. She commented that it was already dark, and I said, wait, wait, I have a lot of light yet! and, after a moment of incredulous silence, she said, well, yes, Gerry, but I live quite a way east of you.   I tried to argue her into the notion that she lives a long way south of me and therefore has longer days, which should compensate . . . .  Cheri waited patiently while I rambled on, tangling myself up in circular reasoning before finding my way back to common sense.

As you might imagine, the semiannual timeshift flummoxes me every time. Wait, wait, I say. You cannot “save” daylight! There is just so much of it, and that is all you are going to get, no matter what you do to the clocks! And every year we go ahead and do it anyway. We have just done it, for better or worse.

Here is my favorite overlook in blessed sunshine on the late afternoon of Monday, March 3 (6:11pm).

If we had that much sunshine today I could go take a similar photo at 7:11pm. On the other hand, when I got up this morning, it was still dark when the clocks said it should be light. (Not my clocks, of course, because I forgot to set them ahead when I went to bed last night, but other, more provident people’s clocks.)  No daylight saved.

On the third hand, no matter what anyone does with the clocks, Mama Nature will provide me with a little bit more light every day, right up until midsummer, when she will start thieving it away again.  A person who lives this far north notices these things.

I also notice blue skies, and spend a lot of time gazing at them in a sort of rapture.  This is how I happened to catch the moon hanging around in the branches of the beech tree.

Half moon March 3

I don’t keep good track of the moon’s travels, which is why I’m always pleasantly surprised when it pops in for a daytime visit like that.  It looks suspiciously snowy, but I’m fairly certain that the lake effect does not extend that far.

Half moon sun-bathing

Time. In a way, it’s all we have, and generally we want more of it, especially as it runs out. And yet . . . we waste it.  In fact, I can hear a lot of you saying I am wasting time right now horsing around reading this blog post.  Ah well.  It could be worse.  You could be watching Fox News.

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