Early Winter Sunset

It’s a bittersweet season, tinged with the melancholy that comes with age.

photo by author

Officially, winter begins on the solstice, usually December 21st. That is based on when the sun crosses an imaginary line on the tilted Earth. Other societies say winter begins on December 1. By then the leaves are gone, it’s cold out, and the sun sets early. Why wait another three weeks to call it winter?

But, really, the shocking change of season occurs when the clock is pushed back. Today, the third day of Standard Time, the sun set at 4:32 where I am. The temperature was a warm 60 degrees. Tomorrow the sun will set at 4:31. It will be 38 degrees. It’s winter.

For me, at this age, the departure of the sun and the warm weather make me remember the other things that have left me, and things that I have lost. I miss certain people the most. Many of my friends have moved away as they have aged. They went to be near their children who are spread across the country. Others have gone to places they can afford, or where they can play golf, or into a continuing care community in anticipation of what we all know is coming. For some, it has already come.

My neighbor is leaving for Florida next week. It’s too cold here for her to play pickleball and golf. The geese are flying in circles in the afternoon, practicing formation flying. They will be leaving soon too. My grandkids’ soccer games end next week. Basketball starts the week after. I played basketball, in one form or another, until I was 55. I also coached for about ten years. I only coach now for one week in May. I miss playing on a visceral level. I still dream about it. I miss being able to run, but I realize that I am fortunate to be able to walk easily, with no pain.

I have lost quickness. I can’t see as well as I did ten years ago, but my new glasses really help. I can hear again with my new hearing aids. I have to take an enzyme pill before I have ice cream, and a Tums after I have a dish with garlic. The early sunsets remind me of what I’ve lost, but also of how nice it feels to sit in front of the gas fireplace ( no chopping or adding wood ) and fall asleep reading an article about someone who hang-glides off of El Capitan.

Sometimes, I miss doing the work I did for fifty years. I miss the intense contact with many different kinds of people. I miss the challenge of trying to get them from where they were to where they hoped to go. For most of those years I didn’t realize how stressful, and often frustrating, the job was.

Thinking about work makes it clearer that what I really miss is having some influence on things that are really important. I spent most of this morning on a Zoom meeting with the board of directors of the Life-Long-Learning School at which I lead discussions and take classes. We discussed such matters as how long we should schedule between when people sign up for courses and when classes start. Should we try to have more classes in person, and not just rely on Zoom? These things need to be worked out. We have about 250 people in our independent group. But, there is nothing I can do to stop the wars and the killing that is still going on around the world. I had hoped that people would have learned enough from the last 3000 years. I don’t have that much time left to see it happen. I don’t want to let that hope fade with the early sunset.

Song lyric of the day:

See the geese in chevron flight flapping and racing on before the snow

They've got the urge for going and they've got the wings so they can go

They get the urge for going

When the meadow grass is turning brown

Summertime is falling down and winter is closing in

—- Joni Mitchell

Here’s the whole song: