A practice I’ve started during the time of COVID has been to note in my calendar the time of sunrise and sunset each day. I am privileged to have a beautiful front window without window coverings that opens the sky, the tall stand of eucalyptus that rises behind the houses across the street, and beyond, San Francisco Bay and the City. Since my retirement, that window has been a window not only onto my street, but into the magic and mystery of the changing light. Sometimes now, I stop for a few moments, struck by the beauty of light landing in a place I have not seen it before, or struck by the beauty of the color of things in this moment’s light.

Wanting to capture the light, I have stopped many times on my walks in the neighborhood to try to capture what my eyes are seeing: the light falling in a certain way on some late blooming flowers, or darting through a tree that stands beside the sidewalk. The photos are lovely, but often they do not capture what my eyes have seen and my mind has interpreted. Still, I am grateful, always, for that one moment when the world and time and the sky and sun meet in one particular place, a place to which I am a witness.

And the days pass, slowly in the moment, but quickly as I mark sunrise and sunset into my calendar each morning.