I am descended through my paternal line back to 12th century Wales, and that’s just what I know about. I’m sure there’s a good 1,000 years of Celtic blood flowing through my veins.
It sure explains a lot. Although my ancestors converted to some form of Christianity at some point, there is a certain genetic predisposition to love Solstice. And why shouldn’t I? Why shouldn’t everyone? At Solstice, we turn the corner. On Solstice, the day starts at 7:26am and ends at 4:26pm, exactly 9 hours. At the summer Solstice, the days are 15 hours. It’s not Alaska, but it feels like it sometimes.
One thing I like about this time of year is that the sun stays low in the sky for a good deal of time each morning. This gives me a little more time to enjoy sunrise as it takes twice as long as it does in June. The light is good, and stays low, giving good contrast when everything is white.
I’ve noticed that a lot of granular things in nature behave in much the same way. If I Photoshopped this picture to make it tan, it could pass for a sand dune. That’s one thing I like about the natural world; it’s entirely predictable. Weather is totally predictable: we know what will happen in the presence of an occluded front, we just don’t know exactly where.
This is interesting…I pulled out some negatives and scanned the proof sheets. Couldn’t tell what this was at first glance. It’s snow on sandstone at Copper Falls State Park a few years ago. Squint at it and it could be clouds.
But (as is my custom) I digress.
This would be an interesting week to be at Stonehenge, or one of the dozens of neolithic sites around the world. From Malta, which has a bunch of sites, to southern Wisconsin, remnants of the Mound Builders culture. All of these sites have one thing in common: they tell us all when we’ve emerged from darkness into light.
And I don’t know anyone who doesn’t want more light.
Respectfully submitted,
Canoelover