There is a muscular energy in sunlight corresponding to the spiritual energy of wind.
I tend to think of the wind, not the sun, having all the weather muscle, especially in the midst of a brisk northeaster blow in the dead of winter, far outperforming the meager and anemic sunlight. Memories of northeast blizzard muscle are still fresh in my mind, even in the first half of August.
But earlier this week, on a warm summer day, it was both sun and wind competing with their mustered energy. With all the house windows kept wide open to keep things cool there were frequent door-slamming, blinds-beating, leaf-loosening, windchime-clattering, hay-drying gusts. Muscle was all around and through us.
There was enough sun to create a shadow tree blending like a holograph projected onto the woods. There was enough wind to shake the grasses and thistles and scatter their seed. There was enough sun to dip the evening with orange smoothie and enough wind to clear the haze from the air.
For now there is plenty of energy to spare: spirit-filled muscle to pick me up, bend me over, warm my heart, all bottled and ready to release on that inevitable wintry day that will come, sooner than I want.