I hate the Winter Solstice, mostly because it is the shortest day in the year and is the start of winter, which is easily my least favorite season. So it’s cold, and it’s dark, and sometimes there’s snow – which may be tame enough today, but until quite recently it was a vicious killer of men – and everything seems to be harder to do, and the world outside seems hostile and unhappy, and hearing the keening winds at night makes me feel alone, and old.
Which is why I love June: for that month is none of these things.
Today is my wedding anniversary. My wife wanted to get married on the solstice for some reason of her own, and I went along for two reasons. First, because it lets me say that I got married on the darkest day of the year. Second, because it lets me say that my wedding night was the *longest* night of the year.
A wedding is just one day, but a good joke is forever.
Sorry to hear that, Moe; here’s something for you….
Ah, just the opposite here.
I live in the country, not as far out as I’d like but still where there’s a horizon. As the sunset and sunrise move farther and farther to the South and the days get shorter, my mood darkens and I’m likely to get sick, as I did this time. But the solstice — ah. That’s as far as it goes! Tomorrow the sunrise will be more northerly than yesterday’s, even if the increment is tiny, and the day will be a trifle longer, and the blackness lifts a little bit.
Our ancestors, who didn’t know about orbits and axes and inclinations, felt the same way. When it became obvious that the Sun had in fact turned around, that it wasn’t going to keep going until everything was dark and cold all the time, well, that was cause for celebration. There’s a reason the biggest bash of the year is right after the winter solstice in most cultures. The Sun is coming back! We might not freeze to death! Time to paaaaateeee!