Autumn edges in.

This morning at 7:

Did you notice?

"Happy Dark Month, Ann! Thanks for introducing me to this concept, of which I think yearly."

Writes Darconville, in the comments to last night's "Lake Mendota ice at noon."

Maybe Darconville is Alexander Louis Theroux, the author of the novel "Darconville's Cat," who is about 85 years old at the moment, or maybe he's a fan of that novel, or maybe Darconville built his pseudonym beginning with the word "dark."

I wonder if he began with a liking for the dark and the idea of Darkmonth played into his preference or if — like Christmas — it helped make a difficult time of year easier to bear. 

I first mentioned Darkmonth in the first year of this blog, 2004. And here's something I wrote in 2020: "My word for this time of year is 'Darkmonth'... I put the solstice in the center — it's December 21st — and count back 15 days to get to the first day, and that is today, the 6th. We have not yet reached the coldest month-long period of the year — and you never know exactly when that's going to be (and it's very rarely 30 consecutive days). But we have reached the 30 darkest days of the year, and by the first day of winter, we'll be halfway through the darkest month."

The winter solstice this year is also December 21st — it's not always December 21st — so Darconville correctly identified yesterday, December 6th, as the first day of Darkmonth. Revere the dark through January 5th.

On January 6th — it's always Epiphany — we will be out of the dark. 

"I have harbored a strong dislike of summer activity dating back to a series of failed attempts at camp during childhood...."

"Maine takes up a lot of my mental space, probably because I don’t go there. People in Maine have undiscovered hamlets where everyone has been coming for ages and they barbecue amiably with authentic locals at night. Others belong to Old Families with a private island off the coast tucked into the family tree, a place where only family have been allowed to go for hundreds of years. On this island they have sailboats and clambakes and croquet and break out periodically into song. These kinds of summers are plainly out of reach. The 1 percent of the 1 percent don’t need to plan summer because they have it built in. They have a place on the Vineyard or in the Hamptons. They belong to a club where everyone speaks golf and there’s a long waiting list even for those who can afford it. Summer is when the maw of income inequality gapes wide open and only people who summer are allowed in.... I marvel at people with second homes when I can barely stay on top of my one, and summer traffic stresses me out. And what did I miss, really?..."

Writes Pamela Paul, in "It’s Too Late for Summer Now" (NYT).

The October color survives into November.

This morning at 7:47:

Talk about whatever you want in the comments.

The prairie at 1:35 p.m....

... and the prairie at 7:21 a.m....

The drying out and fading stage is lovely too.

Talk about whatever you want in the comments.

"In cold weather, I feel more alive..."

"This is, without a doubt, my soul season, especially the time leading up to the long darkness of the polar night, because, with the darkness looming, you just naturally soak up the moments even more. Every day feels special, especially in the golden hour, the burning rays of the setting sun."

"While the September equinox usually occurs on September 22 or 23, it can very rarely fall on September 21 or September 24."

"A September 21 equinox has not happened for several millennia. In the 21st century, it will happen twice—in 2092 and 2096. The last September 24 equinox occurred in 1931, the next one will take place in 2303.... The equinox dates vary because of the difference between how the Gregorian calendar defines a year (365 days) and the time it actually takes for Earth to complete its orbit around the sun (about 365 and 1/4 days)."

CBS News explains.

Maybe you were expecting the equinox on the 21st. Did you realize how wrong you were? 

Anyway, the fall equinox this year is on the 23d. That seemed oddly late to me, but I see that it's not.

Suddenly, this morning, it looks like fall.

Something about the light at 6:58.

Sunrise with milkweed.

Here's how the sun looked at 5:22 on this, the last day of spring. 

 

And it's time for a new wildflower to take the lead. The golden alexander is fading, and milkweed is on the rise:

  

Write about anything you want in the comments.

"There is such a bias toward glorifying hot weather and vilifying cold, though a lot of people strongly prefer winter to summer."

"I don't really get depressed in the summer, but I dread it because of the extreme discomfort & nothing to do for it but stay indoors. Winter, on the other hand, is completely manageable by dressing properly."

Says a commenter on "Seasonal Affective Disorder Isn’t Just for Winter/Feeling blue even though everyone seems to be basking in perfect summer weather? There might be a good reason for that" (NYT).  

That was originally published a year ago, but it's on the NYT home page today, presumably because it's great Memorial Day weekend topic: Some of us don't love summer. If you suffer in winter, you have lots of vocal company. And if you enjoy winter, other people are always interfering with the pleasure by openly complaining about it. But there's an excessive celebration of the greatness of summer. If you feel bad in the summer, you might feel harassed by the pressure to join in all this purported fun.

Here's another comment from over there:

This morning at 5:12 and 5:28.

 

What happened after 5:28 was interesting too, but I'll save that for later. Oh, the suspense! You can imagine, given the structure of the clouds at the point where the sun will emerged. 

I wanted to put the first 2 photos up early because I'm going through my email, and I see this question from Portly Pirate: "Have you ever mentioned which season is your favorite for sunrises? Do you even have a favorite?"

If I clicked my "sunrise" tag and scrolled and scrolled, I might be able to form an opinion about which season has the best chance of a better than average sunrise balanced against the likelihood of a very plain sunrise, factoring in my preference for the completely cloudy form of plainness over the completely clear form of plainness, especially when there's at least some structure to the clouds. 

But here's the thing about seasons. We live in the day. Let each day reveal itself. Show up and pay attention. Don't worry about the days in the recent past or near future. There's nothing I can do about the sunrise other than to witness and respect whatever sunrise presents itself in the day I'm in. The sunrises don't group together and influence each other, and there's no benefit to thinking about the likelihood of better sunrises in particular seasons.

We were walking in the woods yesterday and talking about the way the leaves looked at this point in the summer. We were all enclosed in an area that in winter will open up. And it will be pretty in a different way in the fall and the spring. What good is there in picking favorites? All the seasons are beautiful, and if you believe that, the seasonal change increases the beauty.

It's like growing old. You can say, It was better to be young!, but it's better to believe that it was not better.

"For years I’ve told people I have seasonal affective disorder in the summer. I dread the heat..."

"... and especially the humidity. I can’t stand the feeling of being sweaty. Small talk about the weather often feels as political as politics. And almost no one, other than my father and one of my daughters, is in my weather party. My husband recently pointed out, while I was considering in incredulity the ubiquity of saunas in Finland, that maybe many people enjoy perspiring. I cannot even begin to imagine such a state. Are there people who actually enjoy feeling overheated?"

Says a commenter at "Seasonal Affective Disorder Isn’t Just for Winter/Feeling blue even though everyone seems to be basking in perfect summer weather? There might be a good reason for that" (NYT).

We are animals, and we're suited to an environmental niche. As humans, we have a lot of freedom to choose where to live, but we don't have complete choice and the choices we make are not entirely based on where we, as a physical entity, feel best. Where is exactly the right place for you — and do you really have the time to figure that out before you settle somewhere or other? 

I feel pretty physically comfortable in Madison, Wisconsin — comfortable enough to feel wary about going elsewhere. The NYT commenter dreads humidity, but I'm afraid of dryness! From a distance, the American West has long attracted me, but when I've found myself there, physically, I've felt assaulted by the glaring sunlight and aggressive aridity. I'm an animal. The place affects the mind — and the mind can call that "seasonal affective disorder" or whatever — but it's the body in the place that causes the mind to react. You're not disordered, you are an animal designed to survive.

"Don’t set your mind on things you don’t possess as if they were yours, but count the blessings you actually possess and think how much you would desire them..."

"... if they weren’t already yours. But watch yourself, that you don’t value these things to the point of being troubled if you should lose them." 

Wrote Marcus Aurelius, quoted in "The Daily Stoic," an audiobook accompanying me as I take a walk — away from all TV sets and computers. 

We're having a frabjous Indian Summer right now here in Wisconsin, USA.

I know you're leaving me, but I love you, October.

"'To learn something new,' the wise explorer John Burroughs noted, 'take the path that you took yesterday.' A knowing friend in New York sent me that line..."

"... when he heard that I’d spent 26 years in the same anonymous suburb in western Japan, most of that time traveling no farther than my size 8 feet can carry me.... I never dreamed that I’d come to find delight in everything that is everyday and seemingly without interest in my faraway neighborhood, nothing special.... It’s the end of things, Japan has taught me, that gives them their savor and their beauty. And it’s the fact that my wife — and I — are always changing, even as we’re shedding leaves and hair, that confers an urgency on my feelings toward her.... Every year, autumn sings the same tune, but to a different audience. My first year in Japan, I wrote a book about my enraptured discovery of a love, a life and a culture that I hoped would be mine forever. My publishers brought out my celebration of springtime romance in autumn. Now, 28 years on, I’m more enamored of the fall, if only because it has spring inside it, and memories, and the acute awareness that almost nothing lasts forever. Every day in autumn — a cyclical sense of things reminds us — brings us a little bit closer to the spring."

From "The Beauty of the Ordinary/We treasure autumn days as reminders of everything we must not take for granted" by Pico Iyer (in the NYT). If you hesitate to click through, know that there's a fantastic gently animated illustration of a fallen leaf (by Angie Wang). Pico Iyer was born in Oxford, England and is of Indian ancestry. He's written novels and books about his extensive travels. But since 1992, he's lived in Nara, Japan. From his Wikipedia page:

Having grown up a part of — and apart from — English, American and Indian cultures, he became one of the first writers to take the international airport itself as his subject, along with the associated jet lag, displacement and cultural minglings.... Most of his books have been about trying to see from within some society or way of life — revolutionary Cuba, Sufism, Buddhist Kyoto, even global disorientation — but from the larger perspective an outsider can sometimes bring....

"They say that all good things must end someday. Autumn leaves must fall."

Equinoxiously yours,

Chad and Jeremy

P.S. It's the Super Harvest Moon tonight.

Did you notice the solar solstice?

Nina sure did.

ADDED: "Solar solstice" is not the right expression, as everyone in the comments is beating me over the head about. I'm sorry! The whole summer is sorry!!!