Solstice

The rejoicing should be commencing. The days are now getting longer, or so the scientists tell us. This normally brings much relief to the females of this family. (And hence, it brings a secondary form of relief to the males of this family. Let the reader understand.) Yes, it's true, as Dave says, that winter's cold has barely begun. But the sun is headed north again!

If there is still a sun.

It's been raining and dark here for the last 42 hours. I guess we have to take it on faith that there's still a sun up there, behind the clouds, on the other side of the constant rain. (Not that I'm complaining about rain! Oh no! There's been too much drought for too long to be complaining of rain! Is it too much to ask, though, to have rain AND sunshine at the same time? Oh. Yeah. I guess it is.... But I digress.)

Maggie, having been sprung from confinement, hit up the library yesterday. She brought home a video of The Silver Chair. There's the scene where the witch is trying to convince Rillian and the kids that there is no sun, that it's just a figment of their imagination. Kinda funny thing to be watching on the shortest day of the year, especially when the brightest part of the whole day was about as luminescent as 4:30 a.m. in June.

But in spite of the darkness, we have light. We have the light that makes me happy in a shallow sort of way: too many natural light light-bulbs wasting electricity. And we have the Light that brings real and non-shallow joy. For Advent, I've been trying to teach my minions children the Phos Hilaron. "Joyous light of glory of the immortal Father; heavenly, holy, blessed Jesus Christ. We have come to the setting of the sun, and we look to the evening light. We sing to God, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit: You are worthy of being praised with pure voices forever. O Son of God, o Giver of Life: the universe proclaims Your glory." The canticle goes so well with lighting Advent candles in the evening. And it just thrills the heart to think of how vividly the Easter Vigil's canticles will hit the ear after having made a habit of singing the Phos Hilaron at sundown.