It’s almost my favorite day of the year. Not Thanksgiving, although that’s close. Not Christmas. Not Easter. Not me birfday.
My favorite day of the year is the Winter Solstice.
When the days get noticeably shorter, I just want to hibernate. If I had a cave I could hunker down in, with a big fire between me and the mastodons, I would so be there, whiling away the winter with, like, pemmican and stuff, drinking hot whiskey and watching Boston Legal marathons.
It’s dark by 6 in the evening now. I can’t imagine living farther north, where the day is just dawn and gone.
So the day with the big red ring around it on my calendar is the Winter Solstice, the longest night / shortest day of the year. After that, the days start getting longer. After that, although the worst, nastiest weather is usually yet to come, I know Spring is on its way. I shout with King Lear, Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow! And then I do a Bronx cheer, which I’ve never seen any King Lear do, ever.
I’m posting today at Fatal Foodies with a recipe for black beans and rice.
A WRITING PROMPT FOR YOU: Invent a mid-winter celebration for your main character(s) to observe.