The longest day of the year leaves me a tiny bit wistful. Long and beautiful, then, imperceptibly at first, it grows less long. Bummer.
The shortest day of the year is, by contrast, quite wonderful. A turn around! A new trend!
It’s easy to get up at dawn when dawn is at 7:25 a.m. Besides, Isis had been ringing the doorbell of the farmhouse since 6:25, so it is only a question of forcing myself out of bed rather than waking. (Isis has a motion sensor telling us he’s there and waiting to be let in.)
I go outside with my camera. Shortest day of the year. Such a stellar beginning! A delicate snow covers every surface just ever so lightly. It will melt soon, I know that, but for now it’s enchanting!
There was a book I used to read to my kids called Happy Winter – it was a poem of appreciation for the quirky joys a child experiences this season. As if putting on mittens and snowshoes can be pleasurable rather than tediously bothersome. Strolling across the brittle and white dusted land of the farmette, I couldn’t help but think how cool it is to throw on flannels and a jacket and take an early morning spin.
Happy winter indeed.
And with it comes that short day. Though not a dark day: in an uncharacteristic move, Ed suggests a drive through a neighborhood where homes are likely to have lights out for the holidays. We drive slowly, appreciating the technical merits of some displays...
...and the gentle simplicity of others.
Never forget: I am in Wisconsin.
Shortest day... lovely day. Longer day tomorrow.