This
morning the earliest winter since 1896 arrived with the solstice at 6:12. It
was completely dark, except for the street lights across the bay.
Here at the cottage I lit candle and celebrated with a cup of
coffee and a sticky bun.
The sun rose at precisely 7:11—at least I have faith that that
was what was happening behind those clouds.
When I return here in early January, the sun will be rising a
little more to the north, and daylight hours will be a little longer. This
shortest day will be no more, but come June 21st, I’ll have to let go of the
longest day of the year. Will it ever end?
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