I have watched it happen slowly. But now, it is raining. And the stalls at the farmer’s market have gone purple and gold, dark green and white. And I get to show up an hour later. But the clock still tells me I’m right on time.
What a lovely coincidence, rain and standard time all on the same weekend. I feel like I spent that extra hour a thousand times yesterday. Sleeping in, meandering through stalls of flowers and produce, lingering over breakfast, laughing, sewing, napping, gulping warm cider. I took pictures, stitched froggy beanbags, and crocheted poinsettias until it felt late. And then, it turned out, it wasn’t late at all. So I enjoyed myself some more.
*ah*
This marks it. My conversion is complete. You can have all your July Fourths and New Years. Christmases, Easters, and birthdays. Even Halloweens and Thanksgivings too.
My new idea of the perfect holiday? The end of daylight savings time. For the simple joy of those extra sixty minutes. And all the possibility they bring.
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