Western Light

The journal began with the return of light generally, the mark of spring. We were waiting for the light to return from above Wapley Hill, from the south; it is the hill that cuts the light for so many months over the winter. But over the last week I have noticed the western light getting stronger as the sun is higher in the sky. Last summer we spent long evenings sitting out in the last of the sunlight and then the dusk; as the house faces due west the light stayed longer on the house. And in the last week the western evening light has penetrated to the deepest recesses of the house, the river-stone wall in the living room. As I write the sunlight is pouring in through the kitchen and into the living room to hit the stone wall with the woodburner in it. The oldest part of the house dates from the 1760s, and the original inhabitants must have anticipated this light epiphany, the return of the evening light, when the whole house was lit, almost as much as the return of the southern light, the general light, itself. I have never lived anywhere and been so aware of daylight.

And yet it is cold; four degrees below freezing is forecast for Presteigne tonight and it could well be a couple of degrees colder out here. So I will light the fire and we will watch the sunlight and the firelight in strange competition.