There is something tentative about the light outside these days. It’s vaguely unsettling, incongruous. It’s been warm and sunny for the past few weeks, and it feels more like mid-spring than late winter. But blue skies and bare legs don’t hide the fact that the sun is in the wrong place.

Combined with the normal disjunction that happens after  the ol’ DST kicks in, everything between the hours of 7am (so I’m told) and 10:30am exists in this awkward stumbling morning adolescence. It’s an eerie liminal luminal state where the trees are still bare, and the shadows still seem to be cast too close to parallel to the ground, 80 degrees to the vertical. The earth seems a little crooked in this hazy light and all the warmth of spring does nothing to straighten it out.

And don’t even get me started on the dog across the street.