The other day, I got the craziest urge.
The temperature was flirting with 50 degrees, the sun was bright, and the wind was gentle. It was get-garden-chores-done weather, and all I wanted was to be outside. But I had too much freelancing work on my plate for the day.
So I thought, let’s sit on the patio.
In the summer, we have a patio set—inherited from the previous owners of the house—that we ritualistically put up every year. A generous awning, table and chairs, and a portable firepit. It’s not fancy, but we like it.
But it’s still March, and not close to time yet to set up the patio furniture. So I pulled a wicker chair from my greenhouse and a tiny outdoor table that has a cracked mosaic top and set up a little workstation. I wore two sweaters and thick socks, and I put a rug out nearby for Finn to rest on. I made myself a cup of coffee in a portable travel mug with a lid, to keep it hot, and I brought my laptop outside.
It was bliss, for about an hour. Then some ominous-looking dark clouds passed overhead, blotting out the sun. I know a weather-related drama is on its way when I see one.
No sooner had I run around, getting everything under cover and myself and the dog inside, but the heavens opened and released the longest and wildest hailstorm I have ever seen. Hail poured from the sky like pea gravel dumped from a bucket. It accumulated like snow on the grass, the roof, the now-empty patio.
Ah, well. I plugged my laptop back in at my desk, and watched the hail fall outside my office window.
In all, it was a very small thing. A brief blip in the week. One hour of sunshine, cut short by clouds and storm. But sometimes we need those very small things to prefigure what is coming. Little glimpses into the hopeful future.
I know that in a few months I will forget how it feels to be cold; it happens to me every year. In the thick of summer, I’ll be thinking, I can’t wait to be cold again. What bliss it will be to be cold!
But for now, I will seek out these little glimpses of light where I can find them, dodging hailstones along the way. Because hope is always worth the effort.
And one hour of sunshine is better than none.
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