A week or so every spring, the setting sun in the afternoon is aligned just right that it comes in through the lower-level patio doors and travels behind the bookshelves in the hall between our offices–a gap of no more than an inch at the widest–and strikes the wall just to the left of the curtained doorway that leads to our store room:
We call the store room “The Cat Litter Room” as most of our litter boxes are in there.
But it also holds a store of old Texas Instruments and Commodore computers as well as forty- or fifty-year-old video gaming systems.
So maybe it really is pointing the way to some ancient treasures.
Actually, we might not see it daily every year as a cloudy evening will block it.
It’s kind of like our pew at church in early service. In spring, the rising sun can come in through the stained glass and strafe us in the back pew. In fall, it can happen twice: Once before the time change and once after switching to Standard Time. We can watch the sun get closer over the course of a month, and then once it’s done with us, its rise is too early to bother anyone else. Come to think of it, the light in the pew and the light in the hall coincide.
Nothing important like NOTICING YOUR HAIR IS ON FIRE FROM TARIFFS OR TODAY’S OTHER NEWS, but something I’ve noticed over time that the other residents of Nogglestead or the back pew have not.
