At daybreak on March 7th Mount Monadnock appears on the horizon in bold silhouette. Soon after, the sun’s corona sets the mountain top ablaze. On only two days a year am I able to witness this phenomena from my home. The next time will be in October as the sun inches south along the horizon line past its date with the autumnal equinox. The speed of the sun’s rising and the intensity of it burning is shocking when viewed against Monadnock’s dark outline. I feel like I’m witnessing a cataclysmic event when the fringe of sky above the mountain erupts in a dome of molten yellow light. For an instant, I’m overtaken by the primordial fear that my earth is being consumed by fire. Soon after, the sun’s benevolent form reestablishes itself and takes its familiar place in the morning sky.
Recent warmer temperatures and heavy rains have swollen Stickney Brook and burst the thick crust of ice that’s grown over its surface the past few months. A mob of crows wheels through the upper branches of the maple grove. Deer scavenge for meadow browse as the snow pack retreats. These are some of the signs for telling time by the seasons. Winter’s length is measured by the firewood put up, mud season by the maple syrup canned.
It’s easy to get ahead of yourself. Planning for the next season is important but not at the expense of the season that’s here. Out of doors and inside my dreams is where I’ll spend the day.