December 21st – It’s not hard to notice if you’re a regular reader that I hate the darkness of winter and the closing in of the days. Well, this is the weekend where the process reverses for another season, and from tomorrow, the light will slowly but surely trickle back into my life.
Winter always feels on the run from hereon in.
Bring it on.
This journal is moving home. Find out more by clicking here
from Tumblr https://ift.tt/2QrJOrC
via IFTTT
December 21st – And this is the reason for my sudden optimism. Today is the winter solstice, or shortest day. From here, everything gets better, because the light trickles steadily back into my darkened soul.
The bike GPS tells me the sunrise and sunset times on the main screen, as I love to watch them daily. Today, the sun rose around 8:16am, and set around 3:54. I’ve watched these times all year, and registered the slow acceleration of nightfall from Midsummer, slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, minute by precious minute; then cascading and careering through the midway and the end of British Summer Time. Slowing up again, that last push to before 4pm is crushing when it happens.
By the time I return to work after this, my final commute of 2017, the sunset will already be past 4pm. And no matter what the winter brings, inexorably, unalterably, the GPS will record the gradual steps into the light. And then, at the end of March, I will emerge blinking into the light evenings as British Summer Time commences again.
I have survived the oncoming dark for another year. All I need to dow now is watch the darkness retreat.
December 21st – I had to return to Shenstone to pick something up I’d spotted the day before, so rode over there on my way back from Darlaston.
Whilst there, a lovely, Christmassy, almost Dickensian image – the florist’s shop, closed for the night, but subtly festive.
Really into this Solstice/Chrismas thing now. And there’s a big reason for that….
June 21st – Another high summer day, the longest as it happens, and from here on in, the days shorten to darkness; but there’s plenty of summer left and it’s been glorious so far, so I’m not too sad.
On the Walsall Canal heading for Darlaston, life is busy hunting, blooming and multiplying, with herons hunting on the far bank, families of geese making their way through dense waterlily beds and flowers looking gorgeous in the hot sun.
A Walsall Top Lock, basking on a piece of drifting wood, I even saw a terrapin, about the size of a saucer. Sadly, it slipped away before I got the camera out but these poor creatures, often released into the wild when too large for captivity are becoming a common sight in canals and pools of the UK.
A great day to be on a bike in the place I love.
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.
December 20th – I keep passing this sign at the garden centre on the Chester Road near Mill Green, and as I passed it tonight, I realised that as with every year, it’s purpose had now all but ceased; few people will be buying the traditional nordman fir now, and so inexorably, the season is ticking away; One more day at work, then holiday, then on my return, a new year and nights that open out again after the winter solstice and shortest day, which occur the very next day.
Time marches on quickly for me these days, but this autumn, with the huge workload and long hours, has seemed particularly cruel.
I long for spring flowers, warm breezes and the sun on my face.
Soon be over the peak.
December 30th – As I noted ten days ago, the sunset was now advancing from it’s nadir of 3:53pm. Since then the figure – top right on the bike computer screen – has advanced to 4pm. We are winning the battle, the darkness is in regret – we’ve gained seven minutes, and the gains now will only increase. A reason to be cheerful.
I noticed yesterday in Chepstow the sunset was as late as 4:07pm. Maybe I should move south for the winter, like some of the birds…
Note one unchanged thing, though: The device is still spattered with raindrops.
December 15th – The magic numbers are important, so very important.
This is the data page of my bike GPS, the screen where I keep the figures important to me while riding – distance, battery level, time, average speed and all that geeky stuff. Top right number though, is sort of a mirror of the one bottom right; daily sunset time and sunrise.
Today, 3:52pm. This should, hopefully, be the earliest it gets. From now on, the sunset gets later every day (although the sunrise continues to get a wee bit later). This number is one of my small motivational yardsticks that get me through winter and this figure has several notable points; but none is more significant to me than this.
By January, it will be after 4pm again. It may be weeks away, but the darkness will be retreating, and spring will be tiptoeing in.
Today, as I wheeled the bike indoors from another wet commute, the raindrop-dappled glass glowed at me reassuringly in the darkness, and I knew in that instant that so very nearly, so very close now, so soon I will have beaten the advancing darkness for another season.
December 22nd – With a light heart and the wind behind me, I returned via Walsall in mild drizzle. It was warm, and I had to stop to take off some layers – the weather has been crazy this last few days – windy, but blowing hot and cold.
We’ve just passed the winter solstice and this makes me happy. I’m in the darkness here and now, but from here, the days lengthen in that all too familiar sinusoidal acceleration pattern, and soon, we’ll have light and leaves again. Fact is, I’ve survived the closing in again, and this year, it barely affected me at all. Considering I was dreading it, that’s some relief.
Cresting the Black Cock Bridge, this conifer decorated beautifully with hundreds of lights demands attention. It’s so bright, so sparkly, yet not glaring like a lot of such things. It’s really, really beautiful. And it’s huge.
Such a gorgeous beacon of light in the darkness.
December 10th – Can’t ever remember a winter passing this quickly. It doesn’t seem ten minutes ago since shirtsleeves and sun; but today – unusually heading through Pelsall to Walsall due to a necessary call on the way – winter had arrived in full force. The second day of a headwind forged on Satan’s back step, it was relentless and drained my energy.
As was pointed out to me, it’s only a matter of a week and a half until the solstice – and then, opening out again. I dreaded the darkening this year, but somehow, thankfully, the usually associated black dog didn’t ride pillion. The relief of this has uplifted me through the darkness.
Pelsall Common reminded me of Joni Mitchell ‘Shivering trees standing in naked rows’ – but hey, it’ll be Bryter Layter.
And so, the season’s wheel advances inexorably on, with me in a surprisingly good humour for the time of year. I think someone must be slipping happy pills into my tea…
BrownhillsBob's #365daysofbiking 