Spring ahead (even if it's not spring)

I’m still not accustomed to the earlier date for starting daylight saving time.

Even in this winter-less winter, it feels too early to have sunlight at dinnertime. Daylight saving seems like it should be a precursor to summer, and that made sense when it used to fall in April, once spring was well under way. To have the clocks change before winter has even ended – by the calendar if not by the thermometer – still seems strange to me.

And yet it’s hard not to welcome the extra daylight, and the irrepressible surge of energy it brings. Losing an hour is hard for me; harder than it should be – as I said to my 19-year-old niece yesterday, I keep thinking someday I’ll be an organized and caught-up enough person that one hour really won’t make a difference to me either way, but unfortunately I’m not there yet – but it’s hard to argue with the tradeoff. Seeing sunlight last well into the early evening is inspiring, no matter when it occurs.

So I struggled to get out of bed at seven Sunday morning, intent on starting what felt like a new season with the change of clocks on the right foot rather than letting myself sleep in. The kids both slept late, not having any interest in making an effort to adjust to the new time, and that gave me hours in the morning with which I would have liked to read the Sunday papers but instead completed my 2011 mileage chart to send our tax accountant. Tedious, but necessary; and a decent way to make good use of the morning.

Energized by the sunshine, I tinkered a little bit with making parts of the house look nicer – rearranging knickknacks, putting away paperwork -- and Rick got the the kids to tidy up the playroom while I was out running. By the end of the day, we all felt as if we’d done a touch of spring cleaning.

The sunlight lasted well past dinnertime. Yes, it’s still technically winter, but the clocks have changed and the daylight stretches into the evening now, which to my mind makes it feel more like the onset of spring than any change in temperature could. Longer days are coming, and with them summer. It was a beautiful start to a new season.

The lengthening days of late January

The lengthening minutes of daylight at this time of year seem like a small miracle, year after year.

Just as in mid-November I’m surprised anew every year at how early and how dark-gray the gathering dusk is, each year by late January I’m surprised to see a white-gold glow stay in the late-afternoon sky until five o’clock or later.

Why these things still surprise me is hard to say. Not only have I seen four decades of seasons; I’ve seen many of them from the same location. Yet still, the fact that the sky stays light later and later as January reaches toward February still feels like a daily blessing, a small touch of grace to end the afternoon.

Maybe it’s partly that a year like this with so much snow increases the brightness somewhat by reflecting it back. November tends to feel so dark not only because of the early sunsets but also because most years, including this past one, the predominant colors of November are gray and brown, with the ground turning dull in color, the leaves falling off the trees, and no snow yet. These past few weeks, not only has the light lasted longer but there are piles and piles of snow gleaming it back into the atmosphere.

At the church I used to attend in Framingham, the Womenspirit group celebrated a Winter Solstice reenactment every year, narrating the Wiccan legend of how the stag, representing light, must re-conquer the wolf, representing darkness, on the Winter Solstice to ensure that brightness will again prevail with the oncoming spring. The idea that early civilizations might not have been sure that the shortening days would eventually reverse course is fascinating to me, whether or not there’s any accuracy in it. I love the idea that you don’t really truly know, until you see the lengthening daylight of late January, whether summer will return or whether the days will just grow increasingly shorter and darker.

We’re definitely still in the midst of winter. The snowbanks are four feet high alongside our driveway, and more snow is forecast for midweek. It’s still only January – albeit the last day of January – and there’s little question, groundhogs notwithstanding, that we have plenty of time left to immerse ourselves in winter.

But at five o’clock I can’t help noticing that the sky is still bright. The stag has defeated the wolf yet again. Spring, then summer, will return.