The Natural Calendar

Since the day I was born in sunny Arcadia, California the sun has been an indicator, not a dictator, of how I felt. Although there are days my kids and husband may disagree. I am most content and adaptable when I have the sun on my face. When it's gray and cloudy I retreat and pray more deeply for goodness and grace in my life and for my family. I know without grace those gray days take their toll on the soul.



Now I've entered a time of life when and where I can gloriously relax and track the sun's arch. Moving to Kansas fifteen years ago was a lonely cold time in my life. We'd bought an older home and upon arriving late the night of December 28 with two dogs, bedding, suitcases, and green plants realized that our bedroom furniture, arriving the next day, would not fit into the designated master bedroom.



Late that night weary from two days of packing, a long drive, and the sorrow of leaving friends and family, we toasted to our new life, explored our new old home, and then sank down on the greenish brown shag carpeted floor of an add on room that was lined with windows. Before long we noticed the moon and then our two minds converged to toast, "Let's sleep here tonight." The sun greeted us the next morning rising over the trees and beaming into our windows and bleary eyes. It's glow lifted our hearts and the add on room became our master bedroom. With a few fixes over the next two months we soon had new carpet and a closet.



Our sun/bedroom faces true northeast. The three nearly floor to ceiling windows on the south face a true southeast as do my two half-sized windows in the pink playroom. On December 21 the sun barely touches the left corner of the middle southeast windows. As winter wonders fall the sun begins it's return slowly, window by window. It rounds the corner of the northeast wall of windows by late January. Those two windows face not only the sun but a giant old cedar tree filled with birds and music. By now (mid February) the sun has nearly passed through those two windows. Before long it will touch our full glass door. When it reaches the door I should have bulbs pushing up through the dark Kansas soil. Finally, spring will return and the sun will travel a few more windows till June 21st, giving us light and hope for renewal.



Now, having been writing for three months, I've discovered the sun's playful sometimes glaring arch in my pink room. During the dead of winter it tracks low across the sky glancing in at me through the bottom half of one window, then rising upward through the top half of the second window and the lace curtains. Many of these days the glare is so bright I can't see the computer screen. My problem was solved when I found an old cardboard loom with an uncompleted weave on it left my daughter, Katy's, childhood hobby. Like a picture on the wall, I place it on the window ledge. It fits perfectly giving me the suns glow not glare.



Then yesterday I noticed the sun's dramatic change. As I look out my small windows in the playful room, I realized that the sun has started it's ascent from the top half of my window. By early afternoon its direct light is on the roof not in my room. I've moved the loom upward and only need it now in the first window. Before long I'll be able to look out and see green tips forming on the bushes outside. Splendidly, the birds enjoy the window shelf outside and the food trays below, so I have music and flutter year round. Yes, I know the paper calendar year is January to December, but some of us feel a different calendar and respond naturally to nature.