Reflections at the Winter Solstice
As we head into the coldest time of the year, I find solace in thoughts of warmer days to come
It is the darkest time of the year. It will soon be the coldest time of the year. The autumn storms caused most of my usual nudie haunts to be unavailable, even if it were warmer and dryer. An atmospheric river drives more storms our way. We need the rain, but… I find myself a little on the depressed side.
The political situation in the States is depressing. The geopolitical state of the world is beyond depressing.
I find myself buttoning up. Closing the gate and locking the doors. Wanting to weave a cocoon and not emerge until something finally gets better. Not having any idea when that might happen. But I also realize that in times like this, I am responsible for making my own happiness.
It is rough, but I have to accept the things that are out of my control. Getting angry, depressed, or fearful of things beyond my control only makes me miserable and doesn’t do anything to change the world. Que sera, sera. I don’t have the time to put things off until the times are better. I need to do things now while looking forward to better weather and times. Every shadow passes.
I’ll do things indoors and with clothing. I lost my cold tolerance since I moved to California from Michigan, 45 years ago. If you live in a colder climate, freehiking season starts later and ends sooner.
Late February is the beginning of flower season in the low desert. Maybe it will have warmed up enough for some freehiking? I can hope. Until then, there is always the gym to work out at. Although, it does feel remarkably silly to have a gymnasium where “gymnos” isn’t allowed.
In March, there’s a nude hike I’ve scheduled with the Southern California Naturists in the local mountains, maybe 30 miles away. (Finally, they have something close enough for me to participate in!) It is an 8-mile round trip, with 1,800 feet of elevation gain and loss. I need to get in shape, so I’m not a drag on the group. I hope my knees are good for it.
In March, brilliant displays of poppies, blue lupin and goldfields ignite the somewhat higher elevations. The vernal equinox is in March. By that time, the days will be longer and warmer.
My mood will improve with the lengthening days, independent of world affairs. May is the Bay to Breakers. June is the WNBR. That is near the summer solstice, the longest day of the year. June can be a lovely spring day -- or be as hot as any dog day afternoon. I’ll have to start hiking in higher elevations to escape the heat.
In July, August and September, I must retreat to the high mountains. At least 4,500 feet — and usually higher — to escape the triple-digit temperatures of the lowland. The creeks will be dry, the fresh green hills of spring forgotten, and the grass will have turned khaki. There will always be a few scattered flowers if you look for them. Late September is the autumnal equinox. It marks the day when the darkness stays longer than the light.
October and November feature rapidly shrinking days and cooling temperatures. And we return to the dark days of December and yet another solstice. I once again crawl into my burrow and brumate until the return of warmth.
And the seasons, they go 'round and 'round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return, we can only look
Behind from where we came
And go 'round and 'round and 'round
In the circle game
Joni Mitchell, “The Circle Game”
Yes, Fred, time to count the days till it's "nude up." Until then, keep "writing up."