As the Sun moves across the late autumn sky, it shines deeper and deeper into my south-facing window. Paying attention to where and when it enters my house allows me to track the seasons toward and away from winter solstice.
When I watch the sunlight move across my walls, I feel like I am not only following time made visible, but I am also finding myself in relation to the tilt of Earth.
My relationship with the sun is different when I am outside. In the yard or the woods or on the road, the Sun is diffuse, has no limits. It shines everywhere, belongs to everything and to every creature. Even the warmth of the Sun on my face on cold mornings seems accidental and impersonal.
But when I am inside watching it on the wall in my room, the Sun feels more intimate. Shaped by the frame of my south windows, its light is not only tame but mine. It has come to me. I am the only one who sees it here now. It is not as vast and almighty as it appears when it fills the sky. It is not the indifferent prime mover of the day and night.
Instead, it seems a bright blessing and a personal ally against the winter ahead.
This is Bill Felker with Poor Will Almanack. I’ll be back again next week with notes for the third week of Late Fall. In the meantime, look for the sun to shine on your wall. It's just for you.
