Environmental science, traveling, and the sociology of the unraveling American dream.


If you're looking for more about me, I'm pretty much hanging out over at my livejournal these days. I use this account for commenting on other people's blogs.

Monday, December 20, 2004

The Sun is dead; long live the Sun

Solstice this year is around seven a.m. tomorrow morning EST, which means (if I am correct in this) that tomorrow will be the shortest day, and tonight is the longest night. The winter solstice. The death of the Sun.

There are a lot of places I'm not this Solstice, and a lot of things I'm not doing. I'm not sitting down to a Solstice meal with my parents, or holding a lit candle with friends and discussing the year before. I'm not listening to the click of stag horns from the dancers in the darkness, or joining hands and singing to hold the dark away. I'm not huddled around a fire with my kinsmen, smelling roasting meat on a spit and watching as the stars wheel overhead, distant and cold, and wondering if the light will ever again decide to return.

But I am inside, and warm, and about to eat a quesidilla. My candles are lit on the windowsill behind the desk where I type this -- three, on an iron holder. I'll speak to my parents on the phone, and I'll speak to my friends online, and I'll hold back the darkness with an episode of Angel on DVD and the cold by working on the hat I'm making for my father. And the Sun will once more come back.