there are two days of the year that profoundly affect me.
I'm sure you think those days are probably my birthday and maybe Christmas. Well, surprise. It is neither of those.
My most favorite is the winter solstice. That wonderful day when the sun has reached its southern home, packs its bags and begins its slow but steady climb back up, up, up to its northern most point in the sky. I can easily watch this process every morning when I pull open my drapes, I know exactly where the sun will rise for the next six months by where it creeps over the tree tops every day. Oh, it brings me such joy. Robins return, flowers start to bloom, the air warms as does the soil. It is marvelous, marvelous, marvelous.
Oh, my excitement is growing. Only two more weeks till that wonderful day.
The second day that profoundly effects my mental stability is the summer solstice. My least favorite day of the year. Oh yes, from there on, for the next six months, I watch the western sky every evening and again the trees are my benchmark as the sun slowly slinks to its southern most point. Oh, it brings on a melancholy of both dread and dismay. Robins eventually leave, flower blooms become smaller and smaller, the air begins to chill as does the soil. It is woeful, woeful, woeful.
However, today I will not dwell on that because I'm giddy, and quite gleeful at the moment because my magical day nears. I wish I had a bottle of Blackberry or Peach Brandy on hand to celebrate the coming winter solstice. I would toast the sun's bravery for having navigated its way to its southern home (again), and wish it happy traveling as it winds its way back to its northern home (again).
God's speed, dear sun...God's speed.
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