This time of year, the sun never gets very far above the horizon. I notice that phenomenon most when I’m driving: it seems like no matter which way I’m going, the sun is always in my eyes. That can be be annoying let alone dangerous, but then I remember: the shorter days of winter make what little light there is all the more precious. Isn’t that always the case? The very lack of something makes us want it all the more.
Several years ago, I lived in Scotland for a few months. That was the good news. The bad news was that the months were January, February, and March, the very ones when sunlight is in notoriously short supply along the rocky coast of the North Sea. The sun would rouse itself around 8:30 in the morning; by 3:30 or 4 in the afternoon, it would decide enough was enough and head back below the horizon. That is, if it decided to appear at all. But while Scotland may be famous for many things (bagpipes, kilts, and golf, for example) and infamous for a few others (like haggis), weather has never been—nor ever will be—an item on anyone’s “Top Ten Favorite Things about Scotland” list.
Be that as it may, it didn’t take me long to learn how to deal with Scotland’s thin gruel of hibernal sunlight and its dreich winter weather: prepare for the worst and when the worst happens, repair to the pub. Unlike sunlight, pubs are never in short supply in Scotland; in fact, like the sun, they warm you up and tend to lift your spirits. (Maybe this helps to explain why those countries with the highest rates of alcohol consumption are in northern climes; all those good folk in Estonia, Belarus, Lithuania, and Moldova need a little more pick-me-up than their Vitamin D-drenched cousins down south!)
But over here in Chestertown, things aren’t quite so dark and drear. In fact, the coming and going of the winter sun—sunrise, sunset—can produce some breathtaking effects over our rivers, creeks, and fields while our local watering holes are every bit as welcoming as the ones across the big pond. I know I can always find a friend at JR’s or The Kitchen or The BlueBird or The Fish Whistle, not to mention maybe even a bartender who knows what I mean when I ask for a Landskroener pour. (Now there’s a concept that would go over well in Scotland!)
I know a lot of people like to head south when winter comes calling, but I find something truly worth cherishing here at this time of year. Maybe it’s the geese gleaning the cornfields or the stars that shine so bright at night or the occasional snowfall that blankets High Street or the ice on the pond in front of number four at the club, but whatever it is, I like these shorter days and longer nights. It’s a time for warm blankets, good books, crackling fires, and fine friends—things never in short supply here on these short days.
Jamie Kirkpatrick is a writer and photographer with homes in Chestertown and Bethesda. His work has appeared in the Washington Post, the Baltimore Sun, and the Philadelphia Inquirer. “A Place to Stand,” a book of his photographs, was published by the Chester River Press in 2015. He is currently working on a collection of stories called “Musing Right Along.”
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