March 2019 SOLC–Day 11
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Daylight Savings Time. DST.
Am I the only one who wakes disgruntled on this morning to discover an hour lost? Who can afford to lose an hour anyway?
Years ago, I had a good friend whose young son was thoroughly perturbed by that disappearing Daylight Savings Time hour. I mean, he was really upset by it. It defied his 6-year old understanding.
“Where does it go, Mom?” he pleaded again and again for an explanation. “When does it leave?”
After her best efforts, he still couldn’t understand.
“But how does it just disappear?” he wailed.
Finally, he decided to stay awake all night to find the answer to the mystery. He tried valiantly, but despite his best efforts, he fell asleep during his vigil. That means, sadly, we still don’t know!
I could totally empathize with his confusion and frustration then, and even more so now. What middle-aged person doesn’t feel like hours disappear at an alarming rate already? Those hours don’t need any institutional help, thank you very much!
At any rate, as a morning lover, I’m out of sorts when I wake and it’s an hour later than I want it to be. I feel the loss of that hour, and especially so on a Sunday when undone school work looms large. That lost hour comes directly from my time. My time to write. My time to wander. My time to procrastinate.
Early-ish yesterday morning, in the midst of working myself into a full-fledged funk over DST, I happened to glance outside. The sky was ablaze with purples, reds, and blues. Whoa! It was intense! Immediately, I shut down my whining inner monologue. Mother Nature was throwing a consolation party and I was not going to turn down the invitation. I threw on random clothes and layers, grabbed my camera and was at the river in about ten minutes.
It was simply stunning!
I still feel the loss of that vanished hour (and I suspect I will all week long), but I’m not quite so grumpy about it now. Also, rumor has it, that come autumn, we may just find it again.