So, the sun came back, like they said it would this year, every year, forever. I imagine what it might have been like for our ancestors who knew nothing about “axial tilt” or why the days got shorter and shorter, why the sun looked lower and tinier and weaker every day until nearly, nearly gone, they waited in fear that it might not come back. But here it is.
That was a really, really long night. Did anyone notice? Yet, at my house, there was not much sleep to be had. My little girl was sick, coughing all the night long. What I know for sure is that every time I was up with her, it was dark until eventually, it was light, but it was late. Long night and a lot more to come, I think. It’s not even yet January. So in the dark months, what shall we do? Maybe dream, write, study, reflect, and hopefully sleep a little more than we did in the busy months of light. Here, there is grey, silty light almost every day. I saw the tiny infant sun today for about fifteen minutes before it clouded over again. It dissolved into cold rain. There will be more like this, but maybe with snow and ice instead. Still, if I did not have this, there would be no rest from the overwhelming, active, growing and flowing green of leaf and wash of blue water all summer long. It all serves its purpose, this hibernation. There’s a beauty to it, the stark night with its tiny golden orb rising in the east barely making it above the horizon. There’s a sort of forced peace, compulsory rest, and a turning inward of thought, where feelings become dreams.