Sunshine on Granton

I suspect it won’t become a hit single.  But after fairly relentless wind and rain (both of us ended yesterday with broken umbrellas), a spot of sunshine today needs a mention, if only for how it changes your view on life.

Tomorrow is the shortest day, and after that, even where it’s not quite believable, let alone visible at that point, we’ll start to get more light again.  I read a Monty Don book on gardening one time, where he talked about the time between the clocks going back, and the shortest day, as the hardest point in the year.  Forget whatever date in January is meant to herald mass depression, being low on daylight makes it harder to add joy to whatever seasonal comfort you may be indulging in in December.

Last year, I felt very aware of looking out for this change, perceiving the creeping extension of daylight during January.  This year, I know about it, but that doesn’t always bring the acceptance of it that I’d hope for.  Different features of it seem to affect different people: some hate it being pitch black when the alarm goes off in the morning, others find the darkness so early in the afternoon a difficulty.

In my gap year, I spent the first half waitressing, and realised how easy it was in the winter not to really see the sun at all, especially where you are facing in from a shop window rather than looking out.  In an office with large windows, or a home with a good amount of light, it’s a bit easier, but not that much.  I should probably try to go out at lunchtime, while it is genuinely light, but that requires a bit of energy, which is also harder in the winter.

Somehow, when you’ve closed the curtains and settled in to lower levels of light for longer, it becomes easier.  One of my friends referred to the season of ‘candles and snuggly blankets’ returning, and that helps it seem a cosier prospect.

What I’m trying to suggest is that this is a time of year for needing a little encouragement.  Whether that’s enjoying a spot of sun, an extra slice of stollen, or a longer letter from a friend you’ve not heard from for a while, it makes it possible to go on living in the dark for a little longer, with some indication that there is light still to come.

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