October 18th – And here’s the problem. The clocks haven’t gone back yet – we’re still on British Summer Time – and look at those sunset and sunrise times, as shown by my bike computer. Both my commutes are now mostly in darkness.
This is profoundly sad to me. I love the light, the summer, the green. And for the next four months, I will be deprived of these things.
But then again, the hunger makes them more special when they’re present.
And so the season’s wheel turns onward.
March 24th – I had to visit that cowslip in daylight, so I made sure I passed by in the sunshine.
I hope I did it justice this time.
December 21st – At last, work is over for the year, coinciding happily with the shortest day. The winter solstice is important to me, as once it’s passed, the days begin their sinusoidal rollercoaster of opening out once more – slowly at first, then careering to daylight as the spring comes.
When I reach this point, I always feel I’ve survived. From here on in, things can only improve. And Christmas is here!
I passed the Black Cock in Walsall Wood on my way home; a pub that’s clinging on despite several changes of landlord in a short time, it remains popular and the welcoming, warm lights in the darkness made it feel festive and welcoming.
I’m ready for Christmas now, and a rest.
October 15th – Further on, I hopped on the Spot Path back to Pier Street, and autumn is clearly well afoot now; leaves are turning and falling, and there’s that unmistakable nip to the air. It’s also getting dark now only a little past six pm – and in a week or so, the clocks will be going back and it’s the time of darkness once more.
Although autumn is lovely, I hate what it leads to.
August 12th – I spotted this chap well out of my reach in a garden at Lullington. I do hope he was OK. He was moving well, and it was fairly late in the day. He looked like a large hedgehog, but I’m aware that if you see one in the daylight it can be a bad sign.
A concerning entry for the ‘7 days of wildlife’ series inspired by Susan Forster.
March 17th – Something interesting will happen between today and tomorrow. Thanks to the GPS based bike computer I use these days, I’ve been keeping an eye on sunrise and sunset times to measure the progress of the seasons. Today, the daylight will be just shorter than the night; by tomorrow, the day will be longer by about the same.
This is effectively the spring equinox – when day and night are equal length of 12 hours. This isn’t quite the astronomical equinox, which this year occurs on the 20th, but it’s good enough for me.
Another milestone of the changing seasons and the ascent from darkness.
February 15th – A few weeks ago I was recording this view at this time in darkness. The twin sisters of Wednesbury looking beautiful in the cold evening light of a winter sunset.
I love this view and never tire of it.
It was just about light until I got home – soon I’ll be travelling in the daylight again. This makes me very happy indeed.
February 24th – Little firsts are the art of getting through winter. Little, tiny victories that mark the passage from darkness to light, and tonight, on my way home from work, it was my first normal-time commute in something approximating daylight, rather than darkness.
OK, it was wet, windy, murky, verging on the brink daylight, but it was perceptibly not dark. A little victory.
The joy of this almost totally took my mind off what an unutterably foul ride it was…
December 21st – From here, it’s going to be OK. Everything will work out, and the battle of the last few months has finally been won.
From 5:11pm this evening, the darkness has been overcome, and every day from now on the daylight will lengthen in a sinusoidal patten until midsummer.
Today was the solstice, and from this point forward, imperceptibly at first, the days will lengthen and open out. There will still be dark, cold days to come, but the madness of the closing-in days has passed. My depression that deepens with the clock change in October will now lift.
From here, Christmas, then a new year. A couple of cold dark months, then spring. The budding, the flowering, the warmth. The season’s mechanism continues, slowly, inexorably, and I am in it’s thrall.
Every year, I feel this so much more keenly. I need to feel it, to feel the good days. But oh, the blessed absence of light…
Chasewater was choppy, and grey. The fine sunset I’d hoped to catch didn’t come. But it didn’t matter. Darkness must now retreat. Begone.
February 18th – It was a beautiful day, and one of the first of the year when, having started and finished work at a normal hour, I cycled home in the light, rather than darkness. This day is always momentous, for me, it symbolises the optimism of the opening out.
Despite the sunshine and beautiful light, it’s still winter. It was jolly cold on Tyseley station, but the light was nice, andI still love the air of faded grandeur the place presents. I like how, when looking down the platforms, the station buildings look precariously balanced over the rails beneath.
The old chap had nodded off, and his companion gently woke him as the train rolled in…
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