Beginning sometime in November, I can watch sunrise and sunset from the same south-facing window in our condo.
The sun emerges from behind a ridge on the left half of the window, and disappears behind another ridge on right half.
As days pass, the distance between sunrise and sunset shrinks, as does the window of daylight.
I’ve always lived in places where autumn was a long slide into darkness, but never has that come into sharper focus than it has here in Alaska.
When the sun comes over the ridge in late morning, I open wide the thermal drapes in that south facing window, savoring every moment of light on clear days.
When the sun disappears behind the ridge, I close the curtains tight, preserving the condo’s warmth.
What I’ve learned, living here, is that light is a treasure.
As daylight diminishes every day, I grieve, and hunger for Solstice. When Solstice finally comes, I celebrate the rising momentum of joy.
In these days of darkness, may we rejoice in each ray of light.