One of the features Glimsen readers enjoy is when I write about art, particularly the art in our home, so here’s a little look at some of our pieces. Enjoy!
A long day, at the end of a long week, leaves my eyes tired and my brain, mush.
Across the room, under the window overlooking our darkened back yard, my dog snoozes, snores, and occasionally snorts. He makes me want to curl up beside him on his big comfy bed.
From where I sit, I see my neighbors’ back porch light illuminating their grass and the woods between us. Across the street, another neighbor’s string lights beckon to me, as if there’s a party going on over there despite the chilly temperature.
Of all the times I’ve written about the beauty around us, I haven’t talked much about nighttime. Moonlight, yes, but darkness itself? Rarely.
The truth is, I don't often walk outside at night, especially in the winter. We have coyotes in our neighborhood and, in warm weather, snakes come out at night as well. I have no desire to meet either one in the dark (or even in the noonday sun).
But, still, there are many things to love about nighttime.
small portion of a huge abstract watercolor by artist Beverly Key
1. Sunsets. One of the first things that ever drew me to writing about beauty was the stunning colors the setting sun leaves in its wake.
2. Moonlight. My favorite glimpse of moonlight is in our kitchen, when, at certain times of the year, the full moon shines big and bright through the skylights in the ceiling. I discovered it by surprise one night, and it never fails to delight me.
3. Quiet, other than the oddly-comforting sound of a dog snoring.
4. Relief when a long or hard day is done.
5. Rest and rejuvenation—or at least the promise of it (if I haven’t had too many cups of tea).
6. Reading. It’s a daily ritual here before “lights out”. Although learning to read involved some struggle for me, it has been a pleasure and a joy ever since. Reading can inspire us, enrich us, and relax us. (And if you struggle to go to sleep, a book can even remedy that.)
colors reminiscent of a fading sunset
7. A soft plush robe when I’m cold and tired
8. A thick comforter to burrow under
9. The gentle whirr and breeze of the ceiling fan
10. Soothing blue walls in the bedroom
11. The art in there, too
a large abstract watercolor painted by a friend
several small pieces of pottery
a tiny encaustic impression of a hydrangea leaf
a piece of hand-marbleized paper from Italy
11. Plus, the vintage furniture that tells a story
my husband’s grandmother's chiffarobe
a cedar chest filled with treasures for my daughter
a narrow drop-front writing desk with a row of cubbies
12. And last but not least, my husband!
Maybe what’s important to remember about nighttime, especially when you’re weary, is that tomorrow’s dawn brings a new day. A favorite verse of mine reads: "God's compassions [mercies] are new every morning” (Lamentations 3:23).
To begin again. To start over. To finish something.
To make a call, send a text, write a letter, or hug a friend.
To take joy in the good, the true, and the beautiful.
To look for the beauty around you.
Knowing that I can start over every day—well, that brings sweet dreams, and, I guess you could say, beauty sleep, too.
Where have you seen beauty at night? Where do you find beauty at the end of a long hard day? I’d love to know. Leave a comment below.
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