97 thoughts on “Clocks Change, While Time Unfolds

  1. Lovely!

    Good morning and now you have leaped one hour ahead, while most of us in Central and South America stay on the same ‘ol time schedule!

    I hope that it’s a good day for you, and that the rains/flooding managed to skip over/around you, your area and your loved ones.

    Barb and I are at Hacienda Guachala – what a wonderful respite from the cloud forest rains.. It’s nice to awaken and have internet – yay! – but now we’re heading out for cafe/breakfast and then to Otavalo.

    We visited the Quitsato equator exhibit near the hacienda; you would love to experience this site and hear their presentation about the equinox, solstice, how/why our globes/maps should be tweaked with east to the top and north to the left, etc etc.

    Well, time for that cafe. Have a good day, amiga. Love, Lisa

    1. Good morning to you, Lisa. I suspect you’re well on your way by this time. Starting out with a real internet connection (and coffee, I think?) isn’t the worst thing in the world.

      The sundial’s fascinating, and I have a feeling your day at Otavalo’s going to be equally so. I presume you’re going for the market? We’ll look forward to the photos.

      It’s sounding vaguely cloud-foresty around this this morning, at least in terms of the birds. I can hear mockingbirds, doves, sparrows, starlings, and mallards now — wtih one lone cardinal singing from somewhere. Yesterday, hundreds of cedar waxwings showed up, and stripped every date off every palm in sight before moving on. I’d seen only a few this year, and wondered if they were taking another route. It was fun to see them.

      Have a great weekend! The rain’s moved on, for the most part, and by tomorrow it will be all sunshine here. We weren’t badly affected by the rain, but those north and east of us were. There’s substantial river flooding, and in a few days it will start arriving here.There’s so much debris in some lakes they’re closed to boating — not good, for the start of spring break.

      1. We had a great-but-hurried day and are now in Quito at a friend’s home. My friend, Xiomara, might visit the property soon to study the otters, as the brown w/white patches are not the normal patterns for the two species of otters in Ecuador. Most likely it’s ‘neo’ but it also has characteristics of the one from the Amazon.

        Thanks for the weather update, and yes, I read that Ole Man river’s on the rise. My son said that Cleveland, MS received 12 inches of rain in 3 days.

        Time for coffee then the airport and then Mindo. May the day smile on you!

        Love, Lisa

  2. This was so beautiful, so beautiful… I love both of them, cats, Basho and poetry and of course Spring… Thank you dear Linda, have a nice Spring, Love, nia

        1. It did occur to me this morning that I’d forgotten the one benefit it brings: at least, in my household. The cat, who has her ideas about when I need to get up in the morning, will start yowling at 5:30 a.m. now, instead of 4:30. This is a good thing.

  3. What a great image! I have no idea how you got that reflective surface and that beautiful foreground grass. Those green eyes are really captivating. Is this your cat?

    1. Thanks, Maria. The grass is part of the photo. This photo isn’t mine, but I have one that’s nearly identical, which I took of my cat after seeing this one. I buy her pots of wheat grass to munch on, and all I had to do was thin it a bit, and then get down on the floor and shoot through it. I linked this photo because it’s available as wallpaper. I used it for a while when I wasn’t taking my own photos, and really enjoyed it.

      Dixie does have lovely green eyes, though. They’re almost exactly this color, and one of her best features.

      The reflection is a post-processing trick. There’s a program called Ribbet, which has some nice mirrored frames and such. I suppose Instagram fills that need for most people now, but Ribbet’s nice when you have a specific need and no smart phone.

    1. I wish you could see the hundreds (maybe thousands) of cedar waxwings outside my window just now, eating dates off the palms. I thought they were gone yesterday, but they’re back, in even greater numbers. I suspect Bashō has a poem or two about birds, too.

        1. His verses are such a treasure. I’ve been sitting here listening to fish jump, wondering how we would know if a fish’s eyes were filled with tears. I suppose I’d begin by jumping into their water.

    1. The best photo I ever took of Dixie Rose was modeled after this one, which I found years ago on the internet. That’s when Dixie developed her taste for wheat grass — I wasn’t about to try taking her outdoors for photo sessions. It was far easier to bring grass indoors.

      I didn’t realize that Arizona doesn’t observe the time changes. I read that the Navajo nation does, because it spans three states, but that the Hopi nation, inside Arizona’s time zone, doesn’t. My, what complications we create.

    1. The people in charge could decide that tomorrow will be July 17, and that clocks should be set forward three hours rather than one, but the flowers still will bloom, the wind will blow, and the birds will continue to sing. So there!

  4. I see from comments above that this isn’t the lovely Dixie; however, ’tis a beautiful green-eyed face! (And I’ll bet Dixie is a wee bit jealous you didn’t include her here!)

    While I enjoy having an extra hour of sunlight in the late afternoon, I don’t particularly enjoy losing that hour of sleep. Oh, well, nobody asked me! Here’s hoping you’re drying out from all that rain — we’re supposed to get some this weekend, but at least I’m not shoveling!!

    1. I would have used one of Dixie’s grass pics, but I thought it would be fun to put a link to the wallpaper, in case anyone was interested. Honestly, as long as the treats keep coming, she doesn’t care if she’s admired, or not, and she’d far rather sleep than pose for photos.

      I do enjoy the longer days, especially since it gives me a chance to do some outdoor things after work. It does take a few days to get used to the different light at different hours, but it’s “just one of those things” — of note, but not an aggravation. The people east of here on the Sabine River are the ones who have something real to cope with: record flooding. We’re fine, and the upcoming week looks sunny and dry.

  5. I like the green eyes. I clicked the image to see if it would enlarge. Sure enough. I got a screen-full of one cat eye. I couldn’t make out the photographer in the reflection, too blurry.

    1. They’re pretty eyes, aren’t they? Long, long ago, I had a friend with red hair and green eyes. She hated both, but I suspect she might have come to appreciate them.

      I thought about you this morning when an enormous flock of cedar waxwings showed up. I thought they’d come and gone, but there were hundreds – if not a few thousand — in the flock, landing in the palm trees outside my place and stripping the berries. Our swallows are back, and the coots are getting ready to leave. It’s migration time, for sure.

      1. Are you on a major migration route, by the sound of it, Linda?
        THOUSANDS of Cedar WaxWing? The mind boggles. The gang of (20?) we have around here are amazingly thorough and organised enough; I can’t imagine what a hoard like that could do, look like (or sound like; ). Our little tykes are rather quiet, for the most part: )

        1. Farther east, around Grand Isle, LA, is the place to see birds. After their trip across the Gulf, they “fall out” on the Gulf coast, and it’s quite an event. We’ll get migrations, but they’re variable, depending on the availabilitiy of food and water.

          Waxwings and robins both come through occasionally, but I haven’t seen any waxwings for two or three years. This year, I’m seeing more than I ever have. There are palms all around the marina, and they were thick with round, black fruits. Now, there isn’t one fruit left, that I can see.

          On the palm closest to me, I counted at least 150 birds yesterday morning. If you lowball it, and say there are 200 birds per tree, that would have been a couple of thousand fluttering and swarming and eating themselves silly, just on the trees that I can see from my balcony. They tend to gather and swoop like starlings — it was quite a sight. Yes, there will be some photos, on down the line. I couldn’t get the clouds of birds, but I did get some decent pics of individuals.

          1. I love the little rascals; they remind me of tiny feathered bandits, with the way they come in on “little cat feet(wings; )” to gorge on the various fruits we grow here… You’d never know that they’re there, if it weren’t for their constant, muted conversation – that and the branches swaying in no wind, lol: )

    1. Isn’t it great, Yvonne? I’ve been waiting for some time to use it, and just hadn’t found the opportunity. This seemed as good as any; I thought it paired nicely with the poem.

    1. It’s true, isn’t it — and greatly comforting. No matter the craziness in the world, the (insert favorite flower here) are going to bloom again. I came across a huge spirea the other day, and was transported straight back to midwestern springs. It is a miracle and a marvel.

  6. [Insert here rant about leaving the durn clocks alone and how I who have an extensive collection of various and picturesque clocks in every room have to spend 20 minutes wandering all over the house changing the time on each and every cotton-pickin’ one of them twice a year because whoever came up with this “brilliant” idea of daylight savings time was an unmitigartered brainless idiot]

    The Japanese and their wonderful ability to be still and know.

      1. Yes! Yet another reason to leave the clocks alone. I like to be still in the lovely morning light. Your posts are so packed with interesting stuff, Linda. Sometimes I feel like an insect flitting from one blossom to another. Oh that reminds me.

        1. The good news is that, in another month, the days will be so long that both morning and evening will offer some light. I must confess, it’s rather nice to have open windows and a sunset at 7:15 in the evening. I nearly always get up in the dark anyway, so I don’t care about that.

  7. Good Afternoon Linda. The rain we wished for has arrived and will continue for which the newly planted lawn will be grateful if it survives when the sun shines this summer. Meanwhile it gives us pleasure replacing the dry and dead old lawns. We do not set clock ahead until tonight.

    1. Kayti, I just saw your post about Emmett in my mailbox. I’m so sorry. I’ll be by in a bit to read about it.

      I’m so glad you’ve had rain. It won’t be long until you have some of that green grass — and perhaps even a flower. We had good rain last week, and between that and the warm temperatures, the azaleas are prettier than I’ve seen them in several years.

      I’ve set my clocks already, since I don’t have any appointments for the evening. In the process, I noticed that my phone and my computer are a full minute apart. Oh, my. Whatever shall I do? Ignoring them both seems a reasonable idea.

    1. I hope you can, and I hope you’re feeling well enough now to truly enjoy it. Do you have daffodils? Somehow, I imagine you with a great sweep of front yard, with daffs growing down to a rock wall. Of course, even a pot of crocus has a lot to offer. If you have a flowering shrub or two — well, you’re all set for spring!

      1. Back to “normal,” thanks! We are, oddly enough, almost flowerless, but we have been encouraging wildflowers as best we can. (The soil is very poor and rocky.) Our pride and joy is an old, old dogwood that blooms in May.

  8. I have decided to . . . ignore the time. All of it. This has several advantages. It will keep my blood pressure down, and it will drive everyone else nuts. Satisfactory.

    1. You’re a wise woman, Gerry, as well as being a bit of a rascal. That’s good for your blood pressure, too. Besides, if there’s anything better than feigned indifference to drive people crazy, it’s true indifference. I suspect you know this.

    1. We do need reminding from time to time, don’t we? I’m glad you enjoyed the words, and the image. Whatever we think of changing the clocks, it’s a sure sign of welcome, seasonal change.

  9. Haiku too. You are ever full of surprises.

    How about this one:

    I envy the tom cat:
    how easily he lets go of
    love’s pain and longing.

    Etsujin

    Haiku are calming and as light as a feather. They please me when I need soul stroking.

    1. I enjoy haiku very much. Your description — “light as a feather” — is apt. And yet, in the hands of a master, they can demand to be turned over and over, hiding and revealing their meaning in flashes.

      I’ve known a tom cat or two, some four-legged and some not, and Etsujin’s poem is certainly apt.

      Speaking of calming, you’ve reminded me of another meditation on time that has just that quality. Remember this?

    1. You obviously have some experience with tomcats, Curt. I still laugh when I think about the surgeries we did on feral toms in Liberia. Now that I think of it, I wonder where the cats came from. Were there cats in Gbarnga?

      In any event, I ended up being the anesthesiologist for some of those surgeries, using drip ether on a cloth. Good grief. But they all survived, toddling out of our surgical ICU as fast as they could toddle.

  10. “Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in. I drink at it; but while I drink I see the sandy bottom and detect how shallow it is. Its thin current slides away, but eternity remains.”

    ― Henry David Thoreau, Walden

    1. I see you move your clocks forward on the last Sunday in March, Dina. For some reason, it tickled me that yours is called “British Summer Time.” From reports I’ve gotten over the past years, “summer” can be an ambiguous term over there.

      Isn’t the kitty pretty? It doesn’t surprise me that you’d like her, though she probably wouldn’t fit into your household very well — too many birds, dogs, and tempting little hogs.

    1. She is appealing, isn’t she? It was fun fixing it up. I can see why people enjoy their Instagram filters and other programs. Even though I’m not so fond of gussied-up photos (spare me the over-saturation!) there are some fun effects that can add a lot.

    1. Striking eyes rather than striking clocks — a fair trade, wouldn’t you say? I’m glad you like the photo. I think it’s just delightful. It makes me smile every time I see it, which is why I linked to the wallpaper. There might be someone else out there who needs a smile.

  11. As a morning person, I am not at all bothered by springing forward. Were it not for that, I’d be running out of the house at 4 for sunrise. OTOH, falling back has me arriving home in the dark from work which I don’t care for although I know it is your schedule.
    Yes, the grass will grow when it grows, the earth will turn and tilt of it’s own accord and time will move on.

    1. I was delighted this morning to discover I’d actually gotten up before the cat. She peered up at me like, “What are you doing up?” It will be interesting to see if — or how soon — she adjusts to the new routine.

      I like being able to spend more time at the computer in the morning. From now until autumn, longer working hours and later suppers often leave me too tired for much thought in the evenings. On the other hand, there is time to get outdoors for pleasure after work. Good times.

      Here’s hoping your grass, flowers, and budding trees make up for the lack of ice sooner rather than later!

  12. Still on winter time as we say here in our parts of old Europe. But springs is still on its way and grass grows by itself, here too. And most importantly, days are getting longer—with or without daylight savings. :-)

    1. It’s the longer days that I love. The quality of the light is changing now, too. It’s not so thin, and brittle. It’s wonderful to watch it fade in the evening — we don’t have alpenglow, but what glow we have is beginning to linger.

  13. Although I enjoy the change in colors of sunsets, and longer afternoons … my body adjustment of “springing forward” is difficult! Nonetheless … Happy Week — Happy Spring!

    1. I don’t have any trouble at all with springing forward. It’s the backward change in the fall that leaves me a little off-kilter for a few days. Still, the powers that be have decided that it shall be so — so on we go, enjoying our Spring in spite of them.

    1. What surprises me most is that, if I come home from the store with a flat of fresh wheat grass tucked in a grocery bag, Dixie Rose can smell it before she lays eyes on it. She’ll be off the sofa in a flash, going directly to the bag that has the grass. It’s amazing, really — and proof that cats and grass do belong together.

        1. She does. Now and then I’ll find a bit of undigested grass in the litter box, but otherwise, she just chows down. I suspect her digestive system is made of the proverbial cast iron. In fifteen years, she’s provided two (yes, two!) hairballs, and that’s it. It’s strange, really, but I’m not going to complain.

  14. A great quote. I noticed yesterday that our grass has begun growing. By itself. Every year we’re discovering more of what nature offers, by herself. Even as this time of year we ramp up our efforts to influence things.

    Yesterday I noticed that the redbuds are starting to bloom. By themselves. That means the morels will be popping up now. By themselves.

    It’s a great time of year.

    1. Oh, morels. You lucky people. But, yes: the real blessing is that we’re free to nurture and shape, but we don’t have to bring into being. That gift’s already given, and more freely than we often imagine.

    1. I smelled it for the first time this week — that rich, green smell of cut grass. Of course we had cut grass during the winter, too, but not the kind of lush, freshly-greened grass that smells like a hay meadow when it’s cut. The pleasures of mowing aren’t always obvious, but better grass and mowing than no mowing and no grass!

    1. I thought I was good for a later wake-up call for a while, but Dixie Rose already has adjusted. It’s 4:45 now, and she’s insistent. It’s a good thing I can go back to sleep so easily, or she’d be in trouble.

      I’m glad you like the combination of words and images. Even now, it makes me happy to look at it.

  15. Thankfully, for me, at least, here in the Caribbean, we don’t have to contend with DST and having to move the hands of the clock backward and forward to fit changing seasons.

    The photo and poem are lovely. They instill contemplation of life’s mysteries and miracles.

    1. It seems that most people I know would prefer that we stop with the clock-changing, already, but sporadic attempts to eliminate the practice haven’t yet succeeded.

      No matter. The sun still rises and sets, the clouds flow across the sky, and the flowers are blooming in abundance. We know what time it is: Springtime!

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