Chasing Sunshine

Melissa Mitchell
9 hours ago
4 min read

Header graphic for The Art of Island Life blog featuring Melissa Mitchell’s name, Padre Island Art Gallery, and a soft brushstroke design in coastal colors

March 11, 2026

This week when we wake in the mornings, we can see the light has shifted.

Yes, we’ve lost an hour. The coffee might need to be stronger. The adjustment isn’t always graceful—believe me, my mornings begin with a double espresso.

But as the weeks unfold, we begin to notice something else.

Sunrise over the Gulf of Mexico on Padre Island with layered waves and glowing morning light breaking through clouds photo by Melissa Mitchell Art & Design — Morning Walk at Sunrise on Padre Island Beach

The sun lingers. The evenings stretch. And the world feels just a little more open.

I’ve learned not to fight the shift in time. Instead, I look for what it offers.

Daylight Saving Time has been part of modern life for more than a century, first introduced in 1908 as a practical attempt to make better use of daylight. Today, it stretches across most of the year—an extended season of longer evenings.

It began as a practical decision.

But what it gives us now is more time to step outside—and more time to notice what’s changing.

Single shorebird standing at the edge of sparkling Gulf water on Padre Island beach in late afternoon light. Photo by Melissa Mitchell Art & Design — A Lone Seagull Soaking up the Sun

On the island, spring changes are quieter. The Gulf catches the light a little longer each evening. The birds grow busier in the late afternoon, and neighbors linger in driveways before heading inside.

It’s subtle—but it’s there.

The extra light can become one more opportunity to get something done—this is often my internal struggle—or it can become an opportunity to notice more.

To notice the early signs of new growth—in the garden, in your work, or simply in your own thoughts. To enjoy the way the sky shifts color as the sun dips lower and realizing you don’t feel quite as rushed.

The Shift

In the coming weeks, the island will continue to change in small ways. Banana leaves and palm trees sway against brighter skies. The water reflects light later into the evening. The kind of nights when you glance at the clock and are surprised it’s already past seven.

Banana trees with broad tropical leaves swaying in bright afternoon light on Padre Island. Photo by Melissa Mitchell Art & Design — My Back Yard Banana Trees

So let’s plan to chase some sunshine—not frantically, not with an agenda, but intentionally.

Maybe that looks like lingering outside after dinner instead of heading in the moment the sun dips. Or taking the long way home, cruising along to enjoy the view and feel the warmth a little longer.

Sunset over the water from The Pearl Restaurant on Padre Island with warm evening sky and calm harbor reflections. Photo by Melissa Mitchell Art & Design — After Dinner View from *The Pearl* Restaurant

Light changes how we experience everything. It softens edges. It reveals color. It makes possibility feel closer. It loosens the grip of a long winter routine.

As a teenager, I loved soaking up the sun—running home after school, finishing my homework, grabbing a towel, and lying on the lawn or in the pool with the fresh scent of grass in the air and, of course, a little lemon in my hair for “natural highlights.” Journey playing through my Walkman headphones—and Heart, reminding me to "hold on to one more day". A breeze on my face and sunlight warming my skin.

Afternoons in the 80s moved at a slower pace. No notifications. No constant urgency. Just music, warmth, and the sense that there was still plenty of daylight left.

What Light Does to Us

Over the years—and with my background in nursing—I’ve come to appreciate sunlight a little differently. I’ve always believed in supporting the body in natural ways when we can, and light plays a bigger role than we sometimes realize. Extended daylight can lift mood, help regulate sleep, and allow our bodies to produce Vitamin D.

It’s simple, but it’s powerful.

There’s a reason we feel lighter when the days grow longer. Our internal rhythms respond to light. Our energy shifts with it. We sleep a little better. We think a little clearer. Even our outlook can soften.

We’re wiser now—no baby oil for a deeper tan and far more mindful about protection—but that doesn’t mean we have to avoid the sunshine altogether.

Sunlight streaming through palm fronds above a hammock on Padre Island in warm afternoon light. Photo by Melissa Mitchell Art & Design — Vitamin D Infusion from my Hammock

With a little planning, stepping into the light can still be restorative. Even a few minutes of warmth on your skin can help your body reset in a way that feels simple and natural—and it's even better when there is a little sand between your toes.

And perhaps that’s the real invitation of this season—not to do more, but to let the light do some of the work.

Instead of focusing on the hour we lose, let’s lean into what we gain.

More light at the end of the day. More time outside. More opportunity to reset.

After a full season, that feels like a gift—and I plan to enjoy it.

The Art of Island Life will return next week with more stories and coastal reflections. Have a story to share or a cause close to your heart? I’d love to hear from you at contact@melissamitchellart.com