Today I can’t help but think about light. The sky is a mottled mixture of white and gray. Stillness echoes through the empty morning streets as January ends, and the light is pure. Unseasonable warmth has gathered and spread across the city and left a constant dripping, a melted slush, a quiet type of action. The light has started to stay longer, I monitor it by way of evening.
Last night on the way to the gym the sunset streaked all pink and blue, where a week earlier the night had already fallen. Here we are, beginning the upward ascent towards spring light and the coveted Alberta summer light. For those of you unfamiliar with our summers here in northern Alberta, it stays light as late as 11pm at the peak of summer. Oh, to dream of such a thing is like some type of blasphemy on this last day of January, but so be it. Today I will gladly settle for a few minutes extra light, weak or potent as it may be.
While the sun paints colour with a golden glow, this white light strips each shade down to its most basic, inherent hue. It is bliss to witness the transformation, indoors and out. As it falls through the windows and pours through the open door, the dormancy of winter and the hope of change spills out and languidly grasps at each surface.