Night fall

When we moved out to the country from the city, night took on new meaning. Lone houses are stars nestled in the landscape while the distant street lamps and flood lights of the cities stain the sky like sunsets. My partner and I often spend the evening at her mother's house. Sure, we notice if it's raining or cold on the walk back, but also if it's cloudy or clear. Is the moon bright or just a thin crescent in field of stars?

This may be part of your life already, but if not, go out in the woods some night when the sky is clear and the full moon casts long shadows from the trees. Then return on a cloudy night when even the sliver of moon is hiding and water droplets in the air swallow the beam from a cheap flashlight. On those nights the forest is a black hole pressing in on our puddle of light. We feel our way around the bend in the driveway with our feet, and sometimes with our hands.

Out here night is a physical thing. Even when we're cozy in our little houses, the dark beyond the windows leans in whispering, "sleep." We've had a couple of weeks of mostly gray days and dark nights, and night will continue to lengthen for a couple weeks more. It's easy to see why so many winter solstice traditions are festivals of light. We won't be emulating our neighbors by lighting up our house and yard like a christmas tree, but we will be attending an interfaith celebration with lots of candles and singing. When things seem darkest is when we most need hope and merriment.