The shadows are just as important as the light. Jane Eyre--Charlotte Brontë
Natural light is one of my favorite things. It paints pictures on wooden floors, and creates designs on carpets. It illuminates fingers in the soft glow of the sun, creates rainbows once in a while, and highlights each strand of hair until it appears to be on fire. It casts whimsical appearances on anything that lands in the range of it's touch and inspires those who will take the time to notice it.
Light dances across the living room floor in the morning until it almost reaches the dining room, then it disappears only to greet the dining room table in the afternoon, caressing piles of paper, stray pencils and empty tea cups that have been placed there throughout the day. Puddles of sun on the floor in the morning make me want to curl up in the fragment of sun, like a cat, and drink tea, or sit and immerse myself in the light and warmth. (I've never known a cat to drink tea, however, curled up in the sun.)
I love natural light. Arizona may be dead, brown, hot and dry in the Spring, but the thing that I never get tired of is the never ending changing pattern on the hard-wood kitchen floor, living room carpet and dining room table. Always changing, always different; as long as the sun shines, which is practically always. It's a little thing. Probably insignificant to many, but I love it.