Tonight, at 9:27 p.m. CST (or 10:27 EST, or 7:27 PST) our northern hemisphere will be at its furthest tilt away from the sun. Short day, long night. Solstice.
We all take it in stride, celebrating perhaps the lengthening of the day that follows, just because we like long days. We haven't the fear of those who lived long ago. Yes, we will get more sun hours, no we aren't doomed to suffer eternal night.
Do you ever wonder what foolish beliefs guide our conduct now, to be debunked, say in 500 years?
Even within the short span of 50, 60, 70 years, I cannot believe how much our work, play, family life have changed. In every way. I surely understand the caricature of the old grandmother, with her wrinkled (but wise!) face and her old voice reminding everyone -- when I was a little girl, we didn't have.... (fill in a thousand blanks here).
When the kids watched The Muppets Christmas Carol the other week, I remembered my own absolute love for a different holiday show -- Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol. In those childhood years, we were slaves to a TV schedule and I remember so well picking up the TV Guide in the grocery store at the beginning of December and flipping furiously through it to see if this would be the week they would run this version of the Dickens classic. (Then I would go on to check if my favorite shows were preempted by special programing -- a good thing if it meant fun stuff like Charlie Brown's Christmas, a bad thing if it was some sports event.) A weekly TV Guide! Once essential to my happiness, now obsolete.
We live in the dark ages of the future century and in the enlightened years of what once was. Funny how that works...
Madison sunrise today: 7:26 a.m.
Breakfast, with Ed, in peace and quiet.
Kids here in the afternoon.
The car ride is a like a merry-go-round of childhood issues: one gets on, another gets off, one is resolved, another one pops up. The girl is excited: tomorrow, she'll be receiving the responsible student award during an all school assembly. I suspect I know why -- there's been a semester long struggle to get the girls to play with a girl who has had a rough go of it in life (think: refugee camp before coming to Madison. Snowdrop has taken some leadership in always making herself available to her on recess and walking away from those who refused to bring her into the fold. Proud? Well yes, but then Sparrow, who was sad that no such honor will befall him (is there ever only one responsible student?), consoles himself with the news that tomorrow he and all others get to wear pjs to school. A spirit thing. Except that Snowdrop's teacher tells her class that no pjs are to be worn because of serious misconduct of some kids. Suddenly all that Snowdrop cares about is pjs. Maybe I can just wear bottoms? They look like leggings! I suggest that maybe on the day she is to stand up in front of the school to receive her responsible student award, she should perhaps reconsider pushing boundaries. All this is resolved in the time it takes us to drive to Chick-Filet-A where we celebrate the shortest day, the award, the pj's with French fries for the kids. It takes so little to make them smile.
At the farmhouse -- playful, attentive to the stories in books we read. [Currently, we're on "The War that Saved my Life." An incredible story of a young girl, suffering from a disability, parental abuse and neglect and... World War II in England. Snowdrop coached me on this one: when I read the voice of the woman who took in the two malnourished and neglected kids, she said -- could you make her voice a little bit nicer? She really is a good person...
Madison sunset today: 4:26 p.m. Nine hours of daylight. Not too bad. And it's only going to get better!
Do you know the English author, Susan Cooper? She is 88 now. Maybe you know the poem she wrote many decades ago? The Shortest Day. Or the illustrated book that puts imagery to her words (illustrated by Carson Ellis)? I cant bring you the magic of that book, but let me at least recite Cooper's words.
So the shortest day came,
and the year died,
And everywhere down the centuries
of the snow-white world
Came people singing, dancing,
To drive the dark away:
They lighted candles in the winter trees;
They hung their homes with evergreens;
They burned beseeching fires all night long
To keep the year alive.
And when the new year's sunshine blazed awake
They shouted, revealing.
Through all the frosty ages you can hear them
Echoing, behind us -- listen!
All the long echoes sing the same delight
This shortest day
As promise wakens in the sleeping land.
They carol, feast, give thanks,
And dearly love their friends,
and hole for peace.
And so do we, here, now,
This year, and every year.
Welcome Yule!
with love...
