To the surprise of many, when Itunes began selling Beatles songs a few weeks ago, the most downloaded song was none of the Lennon/ McCartney classics that many call first to mind when thinking of the band. George Harrison’s “Here Comes the Sun” was the early leader in sales when fans finally had the chance to legally purchase The Fab Four online. That should not have come as a surprise.
Yesterday marked the beginning of the return of light, the slow roll back into the good graces of the sun. I do love the winter. I love its bleak gray melancholy, and the inward-looking direction that the loss of heat and light turn us toward.
But I’m a summer solstice baby, born not on but near June 21st. And maybe that is why I miss the summer so, miss it every day it is not here. I do things in the winter, as we are told to do here in Canada to keep ourselves from hating the dominant season of our year, and by eventual extension, the majority of our lives. I go for walks when I can. I occasionally skate. I have an actual fireplace that burns real wood, and I do enjoy sitting in its light and warmth and reading, playing music, listening to the radio.
Nonetheless, I must acknowledge that, beginning September 1st, I long for late June to come. I long for the yellow on green of sunshine on living landscape. I long for the warm sparkle of afternoon on water. I long to plunge into cleansing lake water, dwelling silently and next to motionless with fish as bottle-green light fingers through the waves to find me.
And yesterday we crossed the threshold of darkness. Every morning, every evening for half a year, a few moments extra will come spilling quietly into our days. Already we can feel our hearts begin to slowly open.
And I say: It’s all right.