Don't Fight the Night

jane: Well, it's started. Hibernation Season is officially here. I have to laugh because Daylight Savings Time has been the target of some grumblings from my Facebook crowd. One friend mentioned how it's dark so early, she doesn't want to leave her house. Another commented that during autumn and winter she hibernates like the bears, but unfortunately, unlike them, does NOT emerge thinner in the spring. When I read that, first I laughed out loud and then I winced, because I totally relate. 

This is the season of couch potato-ism, time to crave hearty, carb-filled foods - stews and soups and breads with butter.

And lots of calorie-laden casseroles and pastas, because we're fortifying ourselves for the long, cold winter!

betsey: That’s funny – I made a chicken stew last night (okay, not great). Must be the same impulse. Since I work all day, I’m going to be getting home in the dark, which I can’t stand (although it’s light now in the morning, which is nice). I’ll have to force myself to get out at lunch and walk in the daylight. We’ve started taking vitamin D because everything you read says that we in Northern climes do not get enough of it. I don’t think I have SAD, but I do need to force myself to be active.

jane: Actually, I wonder if I do have a mild form of SAD (seasonal affective disorder). Now that we've set our clocks back an hour and sunset is 4:30ish, I feel as though I'm ready to go to bed by seven. In fact, last Sunday, despite the gift of that extra hour of sleep, Rich and I ate an early supper of green chicken chili with cornbread by candlelight (to up the cozy factor).

Then, when we plopped down in our recliners to watch The Simpsons, Rich promptly nodded off. It was only 6:03 p.m.!

Of course, he got his second wind about an hour later, but when we headed up to bed to read, we were out like lights around nine. We're such old fogies.

betsey: It’s interesting to think about the ancients, like your and my Norse, Celtic and Saxon forebears – they lived in a very dark world half the year, and really, it was that way until the eighteenth century when candles were much better and certainly the nineteenth when gas light came in and streets and homes were brighter!

jane: I must not have inherited the Norwegian gene that helps you thrive during dreary, dark winter nights. Oh, and the one that makes you crave lutefiske and pickled herring – those genes must have skipped a generation or two.

A few Novembers ago, I decided to ward off the early dark by setting up our Christmas window candles well before Thanksgiving and turning them on as soon as night fell. From the outside, our home looked very colonial, very warm and inviting. But inside an unattractive tangle of extension cords sprouted from every front-facing window. Eventually I got tired of the cords and the clutter and gave up on it, but I did miss that glow. It really lifted the gloom.

betsey: We were talking just last night about our Christmas lighting. I’ve decided our usual way of holiday illumination is tacky and too eclectic, so I’m thinking about having our big burning bush done all in blues. 

jane: That would look lovely with your blue house!

betsey: I LOVE blue Christmas lights. And those colored balls that look like they’re floating in the dark, kind of mysterious and magical.

jane: I can't even contemplate dragging the boxes and bins filled with Christmas stuff out of our crawl space yet . . . 

 

You know, when my kids were young, I don't remember being as bothered by long dark evenings as I am now. Winter nights were illuminated by the warmth of bustling family activities - homework and bath time and story-reading and telephone calls and surprise school projects and extra laundry loads. You know, just the daily stuff of life. Now with the empty nest, it's just Rich and me, the dogs, and a very quiet house.

Because there's very little on the TV that Rich and I both enjoy watching, lately

I'll light some candles and put on a CD we haven't listened to in quite a while – a little Bach or a little Miles Davis.

Last night we played some great jazz from Tommy Flanagan, whom we heard play at the famous Village Vanguard in Manhattan several years ago. That helped make the dark hours leading up to bedtime richer, more textured.

betsey: I love your idea about CDs. I grew up listening to Broadway original-cast albums and singing along - I still know all the words to some really obscure songs from the likes of Gypsy. Fritz and I were just talking the other day about getting some of these on CD. Singing along is great for warding off the blahs.

jane: Fun idea! I loved musicals when I was a kid, too: Kiss Me Kate (“We open in Venice, we next play Verona, then on to Pomona . . . ") and Camelot, all those grand, wonderful productions. I just can't imagine Rich getting into singing those show tunes - NO way.

betsey: I think we need to make friends with the night. Where we live we can really see the stars; streetlights don't get in the way.

And the winter constellations - Orion, the Pleiades, Cassiopeia - are magnificent.

So I'm looking forward to welcoming them back. 

jane: Betsey, do you remember me telling you about the telescope my parents gave us because they no longer used it? It's sitting by our upstairs loft window, pointed at our backyard (our neighbors probably think we're spying on them!). It's an expensive instrument with daunting instructions, so we haven't learned how to use it yet. But once Rich orients it to the North Star, we should be able to take it onto the deck on a clear night and stargaze. You and Fritz will need to come over to gawk at the night sky with us some evening - now that could be a really fun winter activity.

I love what you said about making friends with the night.

Instead of bemoaning this season, I need to be celebrating its invitation

to savor the glow of candlelight, to sip hot chocolate, to feel wonder at the stars, to plow through my pile of must-read books patiently awaiting my attention. This time of year provides more opportunities to daydream and plan and pray, even to pay more attention to those circadian rhythms we can so easily ignore.

Speaking of which, I just noticed it's 6:03 p.m. Time to snuff out the candles, brush my teeth, sing a little "Let Me Entertain You," and head for bed!