The first couple nights J. and I slept in our new house, we left the bedroom curtains open. We are out in the country, after all (although only five minutes out of town). But a blazing spotlight woke us in the middle of the night.
Or so we thought.
It was actually 7:30 in the morning and the light was the moon, arcing past our window.
In other words, a weird convergence of night and morning.
This has been one of the biggest adjustments so far: getting used to the change in light. We expected it, of course, but expecting it and experiencing it are two different things.
Dawn doesn’t come until around 9 am and dusk arrives at 4:30 or so. Back east we’d watch the squirrels scamper on trees silhouetted by sunrise as we had our first coffee (or tea, depending on how much we had to do) around 7:30.
We have had a couple of bright days with blue skies but because the sun slides so low across the southern horizon, the night seems almost ever-present. Like the day never completely blooms.
Needless to say, we’re taking lots of Vitamin D and going outside for daily walks in this beautiful landscape we now call home. Here’s the impressive Northern lady who chaperoned us today: