One of summer’s exquisite delights finds us slipping slowly into eveningtime from a favorite chair on a cozy porch. The coming of evening is not so much a show that we watch as a mood that comes over us. Neither the sun nor the air nor our friendly companion seems in any hurry for the light to go. In wintertime, at the end of our daily bath of sun, the light quickly slurps down the western drain. But in summer, the light languorously drips away. Each shade on the spectrum from bright to dark presents itself for our review, pausing so we may show it our appreciation.
We don’t always. We are often making dinner, or eating dinner, or watching television or otherwise occupied with life inside. Often, too, we don’t even notice the moment we flip on the lights and tune out the outside.
Yet, on those blessedly quiet days, when we take the time to be present with this still-awesome and miraculous world of ours, it is comforting, no, beyond that, Shabbat-like peaceful, to be swept up in this silent, arcing drama of the heavens that has repeated itself, incessantly, for over four billion years. And each evening it does it again, for us, taking its time in the warm air of summer to mine the moment for all it’s worth.