The Byrds and The Bible
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, a time to reap that which is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.
As I age, I note the turning of the seasons prompt activities that repeat themselves year after year. I like to spin in the spring. I am almost compelled to make yarn.
Spring's evenings find me on my little porch, spinning away while the sun goes down. The light fades, but I keep spinning, my hand and feet working with the wool, no need for much illumination. Maybe it's instinct or just lots of practice, but I keep treadling and drafting. Making yarn, just spinning in the dark.
The dark doesn't stop us from going on with our lives. If we just practice in the daylight, when the light fades, we find the Light within.