today just after noon (my local time) the sun will reach its furthest point south and begin to turn back to us here in the northern hemisphere.
it happens every year, but it's kind of a big deal.
remember back in july, when the days were long? well, i had been noticing the shortening of the days since the summer solstice and i kind of dread every year the dark part of the year.
this year i have barely noticed the shortness of the days mostly i think because of my recent habit of getting up around 0400, so by the time that sun goes down around dinnertime, i am ready for bed an hour or so later.
but the thing is tomorrow the day will be longer, and every day after that right straight until june.
oh, it will still be dark, because the darkest part of the year is from halloween to candlemas and unless you're sensitive to it you won't so much notice the growing light until the beginning of february, but it starts today.
a long time ago (it seems) i nearly froze to death on this longest night of the year. a lot of people use this phrase "almost froze to death" meaning they were chilly, or should have worn a hat.
but almost freezing to death, for real, is and exceptionally painful thing and once you have lived that horror you never use the expression casually again.
if you want to read that story, it's here.
today i will go out in the morning, as soon as it's light out, and do my daily outside and play. then sometime around ten my friend barb will arrive and we'll have some craft projects to do and i'll make her a nice dinner.
she is, like me, a single person but unlike me she has a full-time job and an hour's commute so when she gets home in the afternoons she doesn't much feel like making any dinner, so to her the words "what do you want me to make you for diner?" are some of the most beautiful in the world.
i'm going to make her a lovely wild mushroom risotto.
we'll take some pictures so i can show you what-all we got up to.
and we'll take a moment at the solstice to rejoice that the light will be growing agin in our world.
and so may it be in you.
3 comments:
That's very nice of you to make your friend dinner. A hot meal prepared by someone else is a generous gift that is much under-appreciated.
My son's preschool teacher, who is gluten intolerant--like more than half of my household--is also a single mother and does not have much time to cook or bake. For Thanksgiving, because among the things I am thanful for, the preschool is right up there at the top--I made her a gluten-free, almond meal pumpkin (squash) bread we like, and she told me she happened to remember she still had the last piece awhile ago when it was like one in the morning and she was working on some kind of crafty thing and it was cold in her house and she was starving and wished there was just something she could eat . . . so she remembered that last piece of bread, warmed it up with butter, and was so profoundly grateful, she almost e-mailed me at one in the morning to tell me how much that one piece of bread meant to her.
Food is powerful, without doubt.
Food is more delicious when made by someone else. Especially after a long day.
Stay warm, watch for the shifting light. Happy Solstice.
I really appreciate your comment on my snow post, since I have been feeling sad and alone. I moved my journal to a new google identity. But it is still me. Your comment survived the migration, that made me happy.
Thank you.
Ari
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