I was on a regular routine. Of waking up to a certain feeling of light. A little before 8, right between astronomical and nautical twilight in Unalaska. The sun is sitting about 12 to 18 degrees below the horizon. Certainly my husband’s banging around with the coffee in the morning was always my first alarm. Way before the butt crack of dawn, but I could readily go back to sleep, somehow, with him grinding coffee beans and banging, literally, the grinder on the counter top to get the fine grounds out of the lid. So with the spring forward yesterday, it was totally disconcerting to wake up to very dark again. In fact, this morning, it certainly wasn’t the nautical twilight waking me up, but my grandson, who is on spring break this week, saying “Grandma. I’m here.”
Yesterday morning I remember saying to myself oh my god, how can I survive going back into the dark. Then I go outside at 9:20 pm last evening and snap this photo of the view from the end of my driveway. What am I complaining about? I’m making up the light at the other end of the clock.