Without Living Through Darkness, How Could We Appreciate the Light?
The flowers and the wildlife agree it’s impossible
Something magical happens in March. I often see it first in my kitchen.
As soon as we enter the first days of March, my kitchen sees the first glimpse of something it hasn’t seen since October — sun.
It may seem small and insignificant, but to me it’s huge. The darkness of the winter is like a blanket that smothers everything. My kitchen, like many traditional Devon kitchens, is a cold space — perfect for storing food but horrible to spend time in during the winter season. My morning coffee-making ritual during winter is an act of survival before I can slip away with my cup of hot liquid-heaven, and cosy up back in my bed or beside a glowing heater.
With no sun ever touching it, there the kitchen remains — cold and bereft of any direct natural light or warmth.
But when March arrives and I enter the kitchen in the early morning to put the kettle on and start my day, the kitchen is a whole new place. A tiny slither of morning sun has made its way through the French windows and has fallen across the corner where the kettle sits.
That tiny slither of sun welcomes me to a whole new world, and gives me a taste of everything…
