The Power of Sunshine

Unless you've been living underneath a rock these days, you'll have heard that the State of New Jersey is about to begin drawing up the plans necessary to build an ark. A very large ark. Large enough to march all the people in two-by-two and still leave enough room for the animals. We'll definitely have to leave enough room for the animals. Franklin, our cat, has serious separation anxiety and I'm pretty sure he wouldn't want to get left behind.

There's been a lot of complaining about this rain. It isn't really an anomaly though. It's pretty typical to have a rainy spring. I remember when it used to snow until mid-late April. One Easter, we went to church and it had started snowing and by the time we got out there was 3-5 inches on the ground. Pretty cool. But, I was talking about the rain.

Even the animals don't like it - except for the ducks, of course. Animals don't say much but their body language speaks volumes. Birds fluff themselves up and shudder in the branches of my budding forsythia. The squirrels and chipmunks are surprisingly absent and even the resident feral cat is hardly seen. Farm animals don't look thrilled either. Horses stand closer to their barns, shoulders hunched and heads down. Cows and sheep don't appear to venture out at all.

I don't mind it much. I know it will pass and soon in about 3 months everyone will be hollering about how there isn't enough rain. Besides, a lot of rain makes you really appreciate the sun.

I commute every day from one extreme (near NYC) to the other (the mountains near PA). It's about 45 minutes and it's a pretty nice ride. Completely against traffic and I've got my Audible books downloaded to my Garmin StreetPilot so the time passes nicely. It's a pretty ride too once I pass the mid-point from Suburbia into Rural. Old houses, farms and fields.

Last week, we had a sunny day. Not just any sunny day. A gloriously, full blown warm, breezy, in the high 60s, "fooled you into thinking it was really spring" day. I had the sun roof open, a lightweight sweater on, listening to my latest book and enjoying that sun. The light energizing me and the heat making me a little lethargic all at the same time. I made my regular turn off the highway onto the back road with its mix of old rural horse farms and new development (that new development for people who think they want to live in "the country" until they get there and begin complaining about the farm smells and how remote everything is).

I round the bend in the final stretch to the office, getting ready to pass the horse farm on my right where every single day I watch these lovely palomino-colored horses. They've looked absolutely miserable lately in the pouring rain, blond manes plastered against their coats, schlepping through the mud, or just standing under the trees at the edge of the fencing trying to hide from the constant downpour. At first glance, they appear to be missing and I'm thinking, "On this day of all days! It's a glorious, sing at the top of your lungs with the radio day! A cavort in the fields day! Where are you?"

A little further up in the pasture the field is absolutely flooded with sunshine. There they are. There, in the middle of the field, stretched out comfortably on their sides, an occasional tail flick or a nostril quiver to indicate that they're alive, relaxed and happy. Soaking up the power of the sun.