Life Without Shades

Barley, a dog, squints contentedly on a bright, sunny day.

As someone who grew up in the Pacific Northwest, I never really needed to invest in sunglasses. It was only when I moved to Florida that the intensity of ambient outdoor light on any given summer day compelled me to think of sunglasses as necessary safety equipment. It is thus with a certain nostalgia that I reckon Barley’s simple reflex to happily soak up sunlight through narrowed eyes. Despite being a Florida native (as far as we know), she’s never once yearned for sunglasses; the very concept of “glasses” no doubt slides right off her mind like a pitcher of lemonade placed atop a beach ball. Would that I, Barley, still had your innocence, that impervious spirit youth I once had back when I would insist, “who needs sunglasses, you can just squint?”