Solstice, Again.

Things noticed here at 27408/1303: Daffodils coming up in the little garden under the Japanese magnolia. Historically early, but locally right on time, or thereabouts. Maybe even a little late. Thanks, frigid November. Pansies looking very, very good. Watered, even. The rainfall totals are almost up to snuff for the month, and we've got ten days yet to go. Grass just barely starting to green over. A tiny bit of heat in that wintered early-morning sun. Oh, yeah: sun. Real sun, with blue sky like it might last. We had sun on Friday, yes and OK, but there were all these high thin shields of clouds skimming by that made you know we weren't out of it. This, though, is the kind of sky that says the front's pulled through, that says we're back to cold, cold nights, if not cold days, too. First day of winter. Cold again. Fact remains: you can feel us making the turn all the same.

It's the solstice, friends and fans of grand millennia-old paganizing, of knowing when in fact we've bottomed out and started back towards the other side. The start of winter, in these parts, anyway, really means the start of spring, because from here forward not that many more things die off. From here forward, things start coming back in. This is about as brown and gray as we ever get, save for the half-weeks and weeks of January and February coming that will look like last week, but colder. Give us a snow or two, please, for variety. Give us maybe a good sleet, a glazing of ice on the porch railings, a slick driveway. Give us a day or two off from work. Give us, though, above all else, the slow return to longer days, the promise of evenings taking place in the actual evening.