But every now and then, I also truly love a day without sun.

For all of us interested in wellness, we all hear a whole lot about the need to be out in nature. Out in the sun. In a forest. On top of a mountain. Swimming an ocean. Just outside, anywhere, getting our dose of fresh air and Vitamin D, every single day.

I do love nature. I do love the sun, the trees, mountains, the sky, fresh air, the sounds of birds. I do also get antsy when I haven’t had time outside.

But every now and then, I also truly love a day without sun.

We had our first peppering of snow here in Colorado just a few days ago. Darkness settled long after what would normally be bright and clear blue sky time, in the state of 300 days-of-sunshine. A cool chill settled in my home. The sun had yet to peek out, and I had every urge to stay inside, to peddle through my daily writing tasks with the thought that I might not experience any sense of nature that day, beyond peering out my window.

On that day, there was freedom without the sun. Not the desire to not have sun, but rather simply a meditation that I don’t need to scale mountains or cliffs every day to feel whole. The Vitamin D will be there tomorrow. For that time, I enjoyed the settling into dimness. The feel of chilled wind whistled its way through every window crack it could find. I enjoyed the dreary, the clouds crawling just above my view. The faintness of light in my home made all that I have more clear, bright and abundant with darkness as its backdrop. The sound of the person I love in my home was lucid, vibrant against the shadowy backdrop outside. It forced us closer, not only for physical warmth but for the kind of deep-rooted, inexplicable touch of another we need when the world is seemingly closed, when it is much too cold to be out amongst the trees.

The next day, the sun was once again abundant. Nature was once again at my disposal, free for me to breathe and touch. The earth felt new. A day without sun, then, can be just as valuable as the mountains we scale and the oceans we traverse.

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Assistant Ed: Daniel Garcia/Ed: Sara Crolick