Winter Solstice

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Tonight, tomorrow, many people will celebrate the lengthening of days in the Northern Hemisphere. The longest night is upon us.

I, most likely, am in the minority feeling a sense of loss. I love the deep nights as fall progresses and when the clock changes my body clock syncs up. A switch goes off and almost overnight I am in hibernation mode.

I go to bed early, sleep like a bear, wake before dawn, sit in the dark and watch as the thin red band pulls over the horizon. Reluctantly, I move into the day, my energy sustained by my morning run – moving easily over the trail that winds to the east and the sun, now rising further south on the horizon.

The day rolls out and I feel relief as evening approaches. There is a certain internal stress that peaks in the afternoon only abating as the sun begins to set and my creative energy surfaces.

Hours of contented introspection occupy my attention. Reading, writing, knitting, sewing, baking – many of the so-called domestic activities for one not so “domestic”. Nonetheless, these are the things that make me happy on cold evenings. The longer the dark, the longer I get to create.

But tomorrow the light will begin, incrementally, to extend, and continue on until June 21, when the earth shifts again in my favor.

Not that long daylight hours are a bad thing for one who loves the outdoors and lives in Colorado. But during the warmer season I often feel like a kid being told to go out and play when really all I want to do is stay inside with a favorite book. Perhaps it’s the expectation that trips me up.

So given my proclivity for the winter dark, it makes sense that this Solstice is not so much a celebration for me as a signal that this season that I just settled into is on the way out.

But this ending is also a gentle reminder of the coming days of open trails, tree line hikes, summer storms and under-the-stars camping. This hunkering down is preparation for the high summer wilderness just around the next season.