Short days, long nights

Sol Invictus, Roman sculpture

Column: Small Pond
Hampton Union, December 4

Stars vivid during month's long nights

I’m not an old farmer, but I love the almanac.

“Just when does the sun set these days?”

I asked that question near the end of a walk with my husband last Thursday. He didn’t know either. I thought it was the afternoon, but it became evening before we got back to our car at the North Hampton Beach parking lot.

When we set out to climb the Little Boar’s Head promontory, the sun was lazing on the southwestern horizon behind us, out past the rich browns of the Little River marsh. Our shadows were stretched long on the sidewalk, telling tall tales about us.

Coming back, the sky was an artist’s palette of winter light, with the cool indigo blues of night growing in the east over the mirroring sea, and the pale flickers of a red and gold sunset mingling in the (south)west. On Route 1A, drivers flicked on their headlights.

“What time is it?”

“I don’t know. It must be time for dinner.”

When we got home it was 4:30 p.m.

“Let’s eat then go to bed,” said my husband. It was only half a joke.

So when does the sun set? I want to know so we don’t get confused and I in my kerchief and pa in his cap settle down for a long winter’s nap at around 7 p.m.

I visited the Web site of the Old Farmer’s Almanac, www.almanac.com, and learned that today, Tuesday, Dec. 4, begins a stretch of days when the sun sets at the earliest time of the entire year. From now until Dec. 14, here at our latitude and longitude, the sun says sayonara at 4:09 p.m. That’s only one hour and nine minutes later than sunset today in Fairbanks, Alaska.

Of course the big difference for Alaskans is that they will wait until 10:20 a.m. for the sun to rise, whereas we enjoy the appearance of old Sol at 6:57 a.m. Their “day” is 4 hours and 40 minutes long; ours is 9 hours, 12 minutes long.

Short days, long nights. Woolly hats and mittens, and scary heating bills. Headlights and porchlights at 4:30 p.m. Alarm clocks before sunrise. High school students waiting for the morning bus (in flip flops and a sweatshirt) in the dark.

Remember June? We had more than 15 hours of daylight at the summer solstice. Around the winter solstice, from December 20 through 23, with a later sunrise, the day is just 9 hours, 1 minute long.

On December 24, our tilt-a-whirl planet tips back just enough toward the sun that we add one more minute of daylight. (Still there is a sufficiently long night for Santa to deliver all the gifts in the world.)

December 25 is the birthday of Sol Invictus the unconquered sun if you are an ancient Roman, and Jesus the unconquered son if you are a Christian. The Roman festival was called Dies Natales Solis Invicti, the birthday of the unconquered sun. According to the Catholic Encyclopedia, the festival has a strong claim on influencing the date Christians celebrate Christmas. Other sources suggest Christ’s birthday was recorded before the pagan Romans celebrated that day.

This year our winter solstice, the moment our hemisphere shifts toward the lengthening of daylight, is 1:08 a.m. on December 22.

If you are keeping an eye on the long-nights December sky, the Geminid meteor showers are best after moon set on the 13th. Mars is at its closest and brightest of the year on the 18th. Look for it around midnight, if you can stay awake that long.

The 13th full moon of the year is on December 23. It is known by moon namers like the Native Americans as the Cold Moon or the Long Nights Moon. On cold, clear nights this month, every twinkling star shines so bright. With the leaves off the trees, the sky is everything in late fall and winter.

It’s a special time of year, and I don’t just mean the manmade hysteria of the holidays. Ignore your Christmas shopping list for an hour or so, bundle up and take a walk from day into night.

Amy Kane is a North Hampton writer who has a new pair of warm and cozy Polartec pants she wears all the time, especially on seaside walks.

Calculate rise and set times for your location.

Comments

[Terry Thornton]

Thanks, Amy, for reminding me of the "magic" of the sky in mid- to late-December. I haven't been walking with my Sweetie in years on a cold clear crisp night with stars bright overhead. You've reminded me that I need to bundle up and head out! Thanks.
TERRY

[Amy]

I hope you do, Terry! I wish we could actually see the sky today. It's snowing a lot.