I stepped out the door about the time the sun stood still yesterday. It was solstice, and had I been somewhere south of the Arctic Circle the sun would have appeared to have paused in its apparent movement south. But of course I live much farther north than the Arctic Circle, where terms like the "longest night of the year" have little meaning. The sun set six weeks ago, and it will be another six weeks before I catch another glimpse of it above the horizon.
It seemed darker than it should be for a little after 10 am, and I realized it was a heavily overcast day, I'd not see the beautiful blues and indigos of twilight. This indeed would be our darkest day of the year. The temperature, a relatively mild -24 was also meaningless as a cold wind from the west, blew the smoke from the stacks horizontally, and also hurried along a haze of light snow. As I moved away from the streetlight I pulled my jacket's collar tighter to my ears and turned my back on the wind.
The ravens were no where to be seen in the dark, no doubt foraging amongst the dog teams, and I decided that the nearest team was too far away for how I was dressed, but I headed that way regardless, hoping to see some wheeling in the wind, but there were none. I could see the teams on the ice, dark lines stretched out, and somewhere one of the teams howled, expecting to be fed or perhaps they saw one of the Arctic Foxes that have been foraging near town, drawn by the bounty of scraps after being let down by the crash of lemmings this fall.
I turned back up the hill, the wind stinging my face, thinking perhaps I should have walked into the wind at the start of the walk, and that my parka would have been a better idea than the jacket I was wearing. As I neared the House I heard the wings behind me and spun to catch the dark wings of a Raven, heading for the ice. Just a black blur driven by the wind against the dark sky barely lit by the sun reaching for the horizon to the south.
Just one Raven, but that is enough. They are my constant companions here, when almost all the others have left, or forage farther out on the land. They are my Birds of the Solstice.
Comments
4 responses
Ravens are wonderful — love that one showed up just when you needed it to. They are smart like that. Glad you’re heading toward the daylight again!
Hi Clare– I signed up for a Typepad account so I can leave comments here.
What I wanted to write here yesterday was this:
Even without a glimpse of sunlight, you illuminate a part of the world I will never know.
Thank you for your kind note. Wishing you, Leah, Travis and Hilary a wonderful, warm, and bright holiday and new year.
Lovely piece of writing, Clare. I too wish you a wonderful Christmas and every happiness in the new year.
Thanks Liza, I’m looking forward to the returning light more than usual this year – not sure why.
Hey Robin Andrea, always nice to have a virtual visit with you, although it would be nice if you did get to see this part of the world.
Thank you bev, I hope your holidays were peaceful, wrapped in Don’s memory.