Today, thanks to our springtime sacrifice, we receive an extra hour — the gift of time. It's still early enough in the day that I can contemplate how to spend it:
Sixty more minutes to read the Sunday paper? Two walks today instead of one? An extra-long phone call with friend or family? Cleaning the fridge? Snapping photos of autumn gold? Reading and writing? Putting the garden to bed? Making beef stew? Practicing "Sheep May Safely Graze" on the piano?
Or, how the day is starting to shape up: Letting the dog out, letting the dog in; letting the dog out, letting the dog in.
Has a certain mantraesque quality to it, no?