It was one of those chilly and empty afternoons in early winter, when the daylight is silver rather than gold and pewter rather than silver. [GK Chesterton]
If the winter solstice is midwinter, then one might be forgiven for thinking of December 1st as the genuine start. The bite of the air, the beauty of the lengthening shadows, the stark silhouettes of leafless trees, the pale glow of a setting sun, mid-afternoon - all these allow one to turn one's thoughts inwards.
I think of my mother and father out there in the bleak and bitter night, when once was a warm fire and good cheer indoors. I think of it now, all gone, as are good friends, close friends, loves in my life, now scattered across the world.
It's a time of quiet and calm solitude, a time to put one's hands in one pockets, muffle up and set ones' face against the icy wind. It's a time of cold feet and hands and somehow it suits the mood.
It's a time of memories, of better days, when it wasn't necessary to think of whether you could afford the following week's food, when you'd be called in for mulled wine and pies, when the soothing lightness of a fall of snow would fill the streets and the yellow sodium lamps would shine dimly through, when there weren't so many cares as people have today.
Winter focuses the mind wonderfully on the long distance journey ahead, down the fading years. It throws regrets into sharp relief but it has its pluses too. Hot food, filling food, e-mailed messages from friends who don't wish you ill, hot cocoa, the warmth of the duvey and the calm - always the calm.
It's December 1st tomorrow.
I think of my mother and father out there in the bleak and bitter night, when once was a warm fire and good cheer indoors. I think of it now, all gone, as are good friends, close friends, loves in my life, now scattered across the world.
It's a time of quiet and calm solitude, a time to put one's hands in one pockets, muffle up and set ones' face against the icy wind. It's a time of cold feet and hands and somehow it suits the mood.
It's a time of memories, of better days, when it wasn't necessary to think of whether you could afford the following week's food, when you'd be called in for mulled wine and pies, when the soothing lightness of a fall of snow would fill the streets and the yellow sodium lamps would shine dimly through, when there weren't so many cares as people have today.
Winter focuses the mind wonderfully on the long distance journey ahead, down the fading years. It throws regrets into sharp relief but it has its pluses too. Hot food, filling food, e-mailed messages from friends who don't wish you ill, hot cocoa, the warmth of the duvey and the calm - always the calm.
It's December 1st tomorrow.