On the run up to the solstice
The strange period leading up to winter solstice. When I would leave for work, in the dark. Spend the day in artific ial light. And then return home, in the dark. A northern hemisphere twilght, where colours were muted. Where the air was chill. Where even the bus brought comfort. Good times, I guess.
I no longer ride the fleet of poor man’s limos, but I remain aware of how short the days are. It’s temporary; in just a few weeks, the stretch toward summer will restart. And inside I still have access to artificial light. In different colour temperatures, because I don’t carefully choose my lights when making
Right now, I’m racing to get through that box of citrus on the kitchen table. Already two of the precious orbs have gone to the complst pail, because I’m not winning my race. I guess I have to accept that I don’t live in the right place. Imagine going out to the tree and bringing in the necessary fruit for your pre-supper snack.
I don’t purchase much media online, but I do enjoy learning how fraught with angst the process can be. Someone proudly showed off his box set of Beatles content, counterfeit from A to Z. There are so many ways that reproductions can fail. Aetwork, sound quaility. Packaging. An endless list of woes.
The cardinal is still at the feeders. Not the epic red one; the other half of a couple. My question is whether winter is still a thing, given that we’ve been up to double dight temperatures for the last two days, and the sump pump is on standby, 24/7. Not how I recall the run up to the holidays.
