Solstice, and the metaphysical meaning of Christmas

Today marks Winter Solstice, the shortest day, the longest night of the year in the Northern Hemisphere (home to 87% of humans). But, as with Equinox and Equilux, the story is complex. The year's earliest sunsets are already behind us, whilst the year's latest sunrises are still to come. Sunset today was already two minutes later than the earliest ones; but the next sunrise will be two minutes earlier than the latest ones. 

Here in Chynów, the earliest that the sun set was 15:24. It had set at this time for eight days in a row, from 9–16 December. The latest that the sun will rise is 07:43, and it will rise at this time for seven days in a row, from 27 December to 2 January. So today, Winter Solstice, is indeed the shortest day – but only because of net daylight length, and not (as most people tend to think) because the earliest sunset coincides with the latest sunrise.

The word 'solstice' comes from the Latin meaning 'the sun is standing'; the difference in day length being minimal from one day to the next, both at this time of year and in late June at the Summer Solstice. Here we have the earliest sunrise over several days (at 04:15 for eight days in a row). From then on, day-length change accelerates towards its maximum at the Spring (or Vernal) Equinox. At this time of year, each day is around four minutes longer than the previous one.  And having passed the equinox, the acceleration of day-length slows back down to negligible with the Summer Solstice. The latest sunset of the year in Chynów is at 20:59 for six days in a row. Source: TimeAndDate.com

Below: I ask ChatGPT to whip up a graphic to illustrate the above...

[AI gets it wrong with dates of earliest sunset and latest sunrise]

Now, let's go back to prehistory, when early hominids first gazed up at the heavens and began to be aware of the progression of the sun through the heavens and making the connection with the seasons. The turning of the year is a miraculous time. Darkness begins to encroach, starting imperceptibly at first after the Summer Solstice, then accelerating around Equinox, before slowing to a halt at the Winter Solstice. And at that point – again, imperceptibly at first – Light begins to prevail. By 25 December, sunset is already five minutes later than at its earliest. That's noticeable, even to people without clocks. Time for celebration! 

The Twelve Days of Christmas, ending on the Twelfth Night (5 January), which preceded the Three Kings feast on 6 January, coincided in north-west Europe with agriculture's dead season, when there was no work in the fields and in any case the ground was usually frozen solid. By the time Christmas was therefore officially over, sunset was quarter of an hour later than the earliest.

It makes me think how lucky we are here on our planet. Take a rocky exoplanet like 82 G. Eridani d. Located 19 light years from earth, it takes 650 days (1.8 years) to orbit around its sun. It is located at an average orbital distance that puts it within the habitable zone, with liquid water. However, due to its eccentric orbit, its distance from its sun varies greatly. At its longest separation from its sun, 82 G. Eridani d finds itself beyond the habitable zone, and the irradiation received decreases sevenfold compared to when it is closest. Although well over a half of its orbit is spent within the comfortably habitable zone, 3% of its orbit (around 20 days) is at a distance where water on the surface would freeze solid. Imagine Christmas there, celebrating the thaw as the planet begins to get nearer to its sun.

The metaphysical meaning of Christmas is the triumph of light over darkness. A temporary victory in the eternal struggle between entropy (the second law of thermodynamics, which states that all things tend to disorder, that energy dissipates, that matter decays) and syntropy (life, consciousness and the unfolding of the Cosmos). And this relates to the metaphysical meaning of Easter – the triumph of life over death.

[Postscript: I found this excellent discussion on the Religion for Breakfast podcast with Dr Tom Schmitt, in which he postulates that the early Christian church may well have settled the date of Jesus's birth on 25 December after marking the conception of Jesus as 25 March, which was calculated to coincide with both Passover and the Vernal Equinox. These 'cosmic signposts' meant that the nine months gestation of Jesus would result in a 25 December birth date.] 

This time two years ago:
At the nadir
(Covid, day eight)

This time three years ago
Last good day of 2022

This time four years ago:
The Year of the Phenomenon

This time six years ago:
Sentimental stroll – streets of my childhood

This time seven years ago:
Streets of my childhood
[I did the same walk exactly a year earlier]

This time eight years ago:
Jeziorki – swans and bonus shots

This time ten years ago:
A conspiracy to celebrate

This time 11 years ago:
The Mythos and the Logos in Russia

This time 12 years ago:
Going mobile – my first smartphone

This time 13 years ago:
The world was meant to end today 
[It may not have ended, but it was a tipping point in history.]

This time 14 years ago:
First snow – but proper snow?

The time 15 years ago: 
Dense, wet, rush hour snow

This time 16 years ago:
Evening photography, Powiśle

This time 17 years ago:
The shortest day of the year

This time 18 years ago:
Bye bye borders – Poland joins Schengen

Equilux – the physical triumph of light over darkness

Today will be 12 hours long, the night 12 hours also. The sun rose this morning at 26 minutes past six, and will set at 26 minutes past six this evening.

Below: sunset over Chynów, Tuesday 23 September.

But wasn't equinox on Monday 22 September? 

Yes, dear reader; that was the moment when the sun passed directly above the equator, heading into the Southern Hemisphere. This year, that particular astronomical event indeed occurred on Monday 22 September., at 18:19 GMT. But here in Chynów, that day was 12 hours and 12 minutes long. The exact 12 hour day-night split is not due until three days later. That's today. And that is... equilux.

In spring – it's the same. Equilux is due two days before the vernal equinox. The former falls on Wednesday 18 March and is the first day of the year longer than 12 hours. The latter occurs on the afternoon of Friday 20 March, marking the sun's return to the Northern Hemisphere.

Whether you live on the equator or near the North or South Pole, the story is the same; equinox and equilux do not fall on the same day. It's just that the difference between day-length between the two is much greater at the poles than at the equator.

So wherever you live on the globe, you get more daylight than night time over the course of the year. We're not talking a lot, but enough to notice. 

There are 188 days of the year (51.5% of the total) with a longer day than night, and 177 days of the year (48.5% of the total) when night is longer than day. That's a 3% advantage. Not much, but there, definite, observable.

Why is this?

There are two reasons: the first being that the sun is a disc, not a point; its sinking over the horizon takes a few minutes. The second being refraction of the sun's rays through the earth's atmosphere. And here we see the difference between our perceived reality and absolute geometric truth. There is more light than is geometrically available because of how our atmosphere bends light. Are the truths we observe fundamental, or are they shaped by our existence and our observations?

The physical truth that light slightly outweighs darkness across the globe leads me into metaphysical thoughts. Classical dualist philosophy pitches light against darkness. They stand as proxies for good and evil, knowledge and ignorance, life and non-life. Light's 3% advantage over darkness can be taken as a sign: a subtle, pervasive bias towards creation, life, and goodness that's baked into the fabric of the universe. From the non-dual perspective of Eastern philosophies, light and darkness are not in conflict – they are two sides of a single, balanced unity. The slight bias towards light can be seen rather as a beautiful imperfection. Perfect symmetry is not a universal rule; harmony can exist in a state of constant, gentle tension.

One way or another, rejoice, give thanks, make the most of this, the last day of the light side; we slip into the shorter dark side for 177 days, re-emerging into the light on Wednesday 18 March 2026. I hope we all make it. May nothing bad happen. Today also happens to be World Dream Day. Left: on my way down the lane to catch yesterday's sunset. The road runs east-west, so at this time of the year, the sunset aligns with its far end.

This time last year:
Equilux: the struggle between Light and Dark

This time four years ago:
S7 construction update

This time five years ago:
Covid – we still really don't know where we are

This time 11 years ago:

Thoughts occasioned by today being equilux

This time 14 years ago:
The magic of Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand's Marlborough region

This time 15 years ago:
Grandson of Poles elected to lead UK's Labour Party

This time 17 years ago:
Give me sunshine!

Equilux, and the struggle between Light and Dark

Equinox (from the Latin, meaning 'equal night') is an astronomical notion referring to the moment when the sun crosses the equator. After that moment during the autumnal equinox (falling either on 22 or 23 September), the sun sheds more light on the Southern Hemisphere; after the vernal equinox (which occurs on 20 or 21 March), the sun sheds more light on the Northern Hemisphere.

We have been led to believe that on those two days of the year, every point on earth receives exactly 12 hours of daylight, and night is exactly 12 hours long.

This is not so. At our latitude, this actually happens a few days after the autumnal equinox and a few days before the vernal equinox. Looking at Warsaw, for example, the day on which we get nearest to a 12/12 split is today, the 25th of September, when the sun rose this morning at 06:27 and will set at 18:26. On Sunday, the day of the autumnal equinox, there was still 11 minutes more day than night. We have the same situation in spring; equilux occurs three days before the vernal equinox (sunrise at quarter to six am, sunset quarter to six pm). On the day of the vernal equinox, there's already 11 minutes more day than night.

So on the scale of a year, we have 27 weeks with more day than night, and 25 weeks with less day than night. Which is quite a good deal given that in theory it should be exactly half and half. A reminder that in the cosmic scheme of things, Light triumphs over Darkness.

Below: the evening before Equilux, between Chynów and Węszelówka.

Below: awaiting the last sunset to be separated by less than 12 hours from the next sunrise until 18 March 2025.

Out of interest: in Macapá, Brazil, a town which straddles the equator, the year's longest day is 12 hours, 7 minutes and 28 seconds (on 21 June); on the year's shortest day it is but 12 hours, 6 minutes and 27 seconds (between 18 and 30 September).  Meanwhile, in Longyearbyen on the island of Svalbard, the town nearest the North Pole, the longest day lasts five months and six days – from sunrise on the morning of 19 April until the sun finally sets on the evening of 25 September. And the sun never rises above the horizon here between 26 October and 15 February. These disparities occur because the Earth is tilted at 23 degrees to the sun; the North Pole is closest to the sun on 22 June, the South Pole on 21 December, and on 20 March and 22 September, the earth faces the sun side-on.

This time three years ago:
S7 construction update

This time four years ago:
Covid – we still really don't know where we are

This time ten years ago:

Thoughts occasioned by today being equilux

This time 13 years ago:
The magic of Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand's Marlborough region

This time 14 years ago:
Grandson of Poles elected to lead UK's Labour Party

This time 16 years ago:
Give me sunshine!

Geomancy: in search of magical places

The other night, I woke with the thought which I immediately wrote down: "Places that bring biological energy and healing/places that bring wisdom & inspiration."  I went back to sleep and dreamt I was on my way to a business meeting in London and had to change trains at Hammersmith; the escalator between platforms turned into a stepladder which was getting narrower and narrower...

In the morning I looked up the notion of geomancy on Wikipedia: "The term geomancy was originally used to mean methods of divination that interpret geographic features, markings on the ground, or the patterns formed by soil, rocks, or sand. Its definition has expanded over time (along with the recognized definition of the suffix -mancy), to include any spiritual, metaphysical, or pseudoscientific practice that is related to the Earth. In recent times the term has been applied to a wide range of other occult and fringe activities." Earth mysteries, in other words.

Yes, this clicks. All the stuff about stone circles, ley lines, chakras, feng shui and the like; fine if you live in Wiltshire, but I'd like such a place within walking distance of my działka. A place that resonates with my aesthetic preferences, a place with a strong spirit of place, where everything fits together in harmony. I have been writing about spirit of place more or less since setting up this blog over 17 years ago, yet I am now drawn to a deeper search for what geographical location and alignment of horizon mean for the human experience.

Today I was drawn to return to Hill 126, in the forest to the west of the railway line, between Sułkowice and Czachówek Południowy. Other than a cyclist heading the other way as I entered the forest, I saw no one for an hour and half. It was blissful – the last day of astronomical summer, a cloudless sky, the temperature topping out at 25C. Despite autumn being near, there were no signs of it. No first leaves falling from the trees. No profusion of spiders' webs – just the odd strand here and there. No mosquitos. I could hear woodpeckers, tits and chaffinches. Otherwise silence (broken near the end of my sojourn by the sound of a distant chainsaw). The spell had been cast. The magic moments were recorded on my mobile phone because... (see below)...

I took a series of photographs in the forest on my Nikon Coolpix A. Getting back home, I took out the SD card to transfer the files to the laptop. As I did so, I noticed that every single shot I took in the forest had disappeared. Only one photo, taken on the way, remains on the SD card. This hasn't ever happened to me since taking up digital photography in February 2007. Second coincidence: yesterday on a call, discussing the recent discovery that the earth has an electric (as well as an electromagnetic) field, I mentioned the phrase 'earth mysteries' – and at this exact moment, a gust of wind blew the 20+ kg stone used to prop the front door open so hard, it caused the door to slam shut (and I have two witnesses!). Third coincidence. I'm writing this post and a colleague from work emails me about getting to a business meeting in London and changing underground trains at Farringdon station... (see dream at the top.)

So – hunting those magic places where physical effects have no physical cause is to be my calling.

Incidentally, the list of posts from this time in past years shows how strongly spirit of place affects my consciousness, creating those qualia experiences.

This time two years ago:
Gathering moss – and hops

This time three years ago:
Gdańsk, Northern Europe

This time four years ago:
Herons in Jeziorki, summer's end

This time five years ago:

Sublime September sun, Ealing

This time seven years ago:
Stepping up the pace

This time eight years ago:
Evolution of human consciousness

This time nine years ago:
Farewell to Ciocia Jadzia

This time ten years ago:
By train from to Konstancin and Siekierki

This time 11 years ago:
Summer's end, Jeziorki

This time 13 years ago:
Ząbkowska, Praga's newly hip thoroughfare

This time 15 years ago:
Catching the klimat

This time 17 years ago:
Road to Łuków - a road trip into the sublime

Sunset's Trip Revisited

The past few weeks have been superb – weather associated with southerly climes, now available in Mazovia. The sun now sets earlier and earlier; today at 19:19. In just over three weeks, it will be Equilux (exactly 12 hours of day, 12 hours of night). And then, on 25 September, the sun will rise over Chynów (seat of a third-order administrative division) at 06:26 and set at 18:26. The days are shortening rapidly.

While the evenings are clear, a walk at sunset is in order. Watching the earth spin and the sun disappearing is a moment of connection with the Cosmos; that sudden sense of, "YES! I am on a planet within a solar system!" comes into sharp focus.

At this time of year, the sun no longer sets over Sułkowice, but over Wola Pieczyska. A mystical, magical moment awaits. "Slow-burning star sinking low/Heaven knows where you go"

"Horizon's appoint you'll keep" – "as the world turns at the edge of night"... The magic effect lasts for about half an hour, maybe a bit longer; as I return home, I pass neighbours out for an evening walk; life is indeed good and happy and carefree; but tempered with an awareness of the shortening days. 

In the distance, a hot-air balloon. Sunset flight. Soon.

This time last year:
The Unbearable Pleasance of Flashedback Familiarity

This time last year:
The imperceptible end of summer

This time two years ago:

Another new bus stop for ul. Karczunkowska

This time three years ago:
Energy, focus and state of mind

This time four years ago:

50 years on - Gunnersbury Grammar school reunion

This time six years ago:
All things visible and invisible

This time eight years ago:
Work starts on Warsaw-Radom rail modernisation

This time nine years ago:
Won't be long 'til summertime is through

This time 11 years ago:
It was a good year for the apples

This time 13 years ago:
Early-September moan about the commuting

Into darkness

It's that time of year again; brace yourselves (unless you're reading this in the Southern Hemisphere) for six dark months. At 21:22 today, Central European Summer Time, the sun dipped below the plane of the Earth's equator. Equinox. 

Technically, however, night isn't yet equal to day - today, the day's length was 12 hours and 16 minutes - we won't have equilux until Saturday 25 September, when the day will be 12 hours and five seconds long.

Coping with the darkness is a problem, not a debilitating one but certainly it's a factor that adversely affects me. The worst time of year for me mentally is mid- to late-November, when daylength shortens by some three minutes each day. Week by week it's getting noticeably darker; the clocks have gone back at the end of October, and Christmas is still weeks away. Both my parents died at the end of October, as though facing another dark winter was too much for them to bear.

The asymmetry in the way our planet spins means that the earliest sunsets in Warsaw will be between 8 and 18 December (15:23 each day), while the latest sunrises will be between 27 December and 2 January (07:45 each day). I could do with dropping the time change, gaining an hour of evening daylight at the expense of an even later sunrise; it seems this is too difficult to do at national, let alone at EU level. 

From 18 December onwards, sunset starts getting later again; by Christmas Day we've gained five minutes of daylight at the end of the day (though the mornings are still getting darker). By New Year's Eve, sunset is nine minutes later than at its earliest, and from 3 January, the sunrise will start getting earlier. And on 20 March 2022, the sun will cross the equator in a northern direction again.

Summer warmth encouraged me to stay on the działka longer this year. However, as the heat stored in the walls of the house begins to dissipate, initiating the need to heat two houses, so I return to Jeziorki. Sitting indoors wearing a shirt and jumper is OK, but shirt and jumper and outdoor jacket is a bit much. Within the next week or two, instead of popping up to Jeziorki once a week for a beard-trim and change of clothes, I shall be popping down to Jakubowizna once a week to check that all's well. Turn over the motorbike engines (especially in mid-winter), and keep an eye open for signs of mildew or cobwebs.

The laziness of summer is dying away too. I'm piling on more sets of exercise again after taking it easy in June and July, returning to an intensity last seen in April and May. 

Now the evenings are drawing in, I have noticed that my dreams - forgettable over summer - are returning to the vividness and memorability they had in the winter and spring. An interesting phenomenon. Is it location? In Jeziorki and Jakubowizna, I sleep with my feet pointing south, my head towards the north. Both bedrooms are triple-glazed and with roller blinds. I can only posit that temperature or indeed daylength have a role in this.

There will still be several warm, sunny days, a few weeks' worth even. I remember 3 October last year - a gentle wind from the south could still bring relief from the hot sun, walking around Sułkowice. But one cannot expect warmth in late winter, even in late March.

But then the pandemic accelerated; two waves have hit Poland since. The first reached a peak on 11 November for new cases (25,611 a day, rolling seven-day average), and on 25 November for deaths (505 a day, rolling seven-day average), before falling back towards the end of December. In the New Year, they started rising again (from 7,668 cases/239 deaths), hitting the peak of the deadliest wave on 1 April for cases (28,878) and 14 April for deaths (604 in that one day). 

Since then, the pandemic waned over the summer, with another low point on 10 July for cases (77) and 15 August for deaths (just two!). Since then, it's been rising again. Although the number of new cases is roughly similar to this time last year, the number of deaths is about one third fewer than in the third week of September 2020.

Will we get used to the situation in which several hundred people a day lose their lives because of the unvaccinated and those who refuse to wear masks in shops, offices and public transport?

This time three years ago:
Summer's end

This time four years ago:
In which I lose a lot of data from my old laptop

This time five years ago:
Konin - town of aluminium, electricity and coal

This time eight years ago:
Car-free day falls on a Sunday

This time nine years ago:
Vistula at record low level

This time 12 years ago:
Car-free day? Warsaw's roads busier than ever

This time 13 years ago:
The shape of equinox

This time 14 years ago:
Potato harvest time in Jeziorki

Hammer of Darkness descends one last time

It's quarter to four in the afternoon. I ate a hot lunch less than two hours ago - and I'm ravenously hungry. It's gloomy and wet outside - in half an hour it will be dark. Yesterday, the sun set at 17:16; today it sets at 16:14. An hour has been stolen from my evening and I won't get it back until the end of March. This whole business of clocks going backwards and forwards is disturbing - the autumn time-change gives us an hour's more sleep but plunges us into darkness an hour earlier. The spring time-changes returns to us that precious hour of evening daylights, but robs us of an hour's sleep.

I am delighted that the EU has - after widespread consultations - decided to do away with this time-change nonsense. For those who suffer (however mildly) from seasonal affective disorder, the continuation of Summer Time into the autumn and winter will be a blessed relief.

Our planet is inclined at 23 degrees to the sun; were it upright to the sun, the entire planet would get 12 hours of day and 12 of night right across the year - equinox would be the norm. Like a stop clock, we get two equinoxes a year, for us here in the Northern Hemisphere, day length varies. From Winter Solstice to Summer Solstice, the day in Warsaw length between a couple of seconds (after and before each solstice) and over four minutes (around the Spring Equinox) a day. From the Summer Solstice to the Winter Solstice, the day in Warsaw shortens, again much more noticeably around the Autumn Equinox than around the time of the solstices.

Below: sunrise and sunset chart for Warsaw (timeanddate.com). Click to enlarge.

The loss of a couple of minutes a day I can deal with - it's the loss of a whole hour that hurts, especially during the first two working weeks after the time change. The sun sets three quarters of an hour before the end of the working day, rather than shortly after it. Warsaw's earliest sunset is at 15:23, between 8 and 18 December (not the shortest days, because the latest sunrise is not until 27 Dec - 2 Jan, at 07:45). The shortest days of the year (21 and 22 Dec) are just over 7hrs 42mins long. The longest days of the year (18-24 Jun) are over 16hrs 46mins long - a difference of over nine hours, (more or less) equally split between sunrise and sunset.

One way or another, here at 52°, we are condemned during the late autumn and winter to leave home and go to work in darkness, and to leave work and go home in darkness.

Is there a better way? I have postulated using technology to change the time of sunset each day, just slightly, by no more than four minutes at equinox, so that at a given latitude we can all enjoy the same amount of after-work daylight the whole year round. How would this work? Let's take 9pm as an arbitrary time (coinciding with the latest sunsets in Warsaw in midsummer). We'd agree that sunset is 21:00 exactly, each day of the year. And adjust sunrise each day in line with that.

Nine pm is four hours after most people finish work - four hours for walking, jogging, cafes etc. It's two hours before most people go to sleep. All year round, we'd have a 9pm (21:00) sunset. But whereas in midsummer, the sun would rise at quarter past four am, in midwinter, it would rise in the early afternoon (around 13:15). Our smartphones, smartwatches and laptops would compensate automatically. Our winter journeys to work would be in the darkness - but they are anyway. All we'd lose is daylight hours while we sit at our desks on winter mornings. But those winter evenings would be long and light!

This time last year:
Big news for Jeziorki
[the housing estate for 8,000 people. Still pie in sky.]

This time two years ago:
Autumn in Warsaw

This time three years ago:
Inside the Norblin factory 

This time five years ago:
Sadness at the death of Tadeusz Mazowiecki

This time seven years ago:
More hipster mounts (Warsaw fixieism)

This time eight years ago:
Welcome to Warsaw

This time nine years ago:
Just like the old days

Summer's end

That's that. Friday afternoon in Warsaw, daytime high 28C. By Saturday morning, the temperature had plunged to 13C. Cloudless skies turned overcast, the odd spittle of rain. Sunday - colder. Next week, temperatures will struggle to get much above 10C. Summer's over, but what a summer it was. From early April onward, a long cavalcade of hot days with clear blue skies, over London (!) as well as Warsaw. A magnificent summer heady with the smell of ripening fruit - indeed, the smell of it was all-pervasive and those fruity aromas - volatile organic compounds like ethylene - everywhere I turned. Raspberries, cherries, blackberries, plums, grapes, mirabelles, pears, apples. I could even smell them in my coffee tin, full of fresh Lavazza.

Musically for me, as since adolescence, the music of summer is early Pink Floyd, pre-Dark Side of the Moon. Autumn and winter were the seasons for Roxy Music, but summer, those Floyd songs capture the atmosphere, kicking off with Grantchester Meadows, which I traditionally listen to whenever I hear the first fly of summer buzzing around my study. This year has reunited me with songs from the (less often played) B-side of Atom Heart Mother and the studio LP of Ummagumma; in particular Alan's Psychedelic Breakfast (Pts 1-3) and The Narrow Way (Pt 3). Old favourites - Careful With That Axe, Eugene, Echoes and the entire Atom Heart Mother suite were also frequently listened to - plus the very earliest Syd Barrett  compositions off The Piper at the Gates of Dawn. And many tunes from A Saucerful of Secrets. I still stand by my youthful assertion that Floyd went downhill after Dark Side of the Moon. For me, anyway. De gustibus non disputandum est.

Below: before summer ended - last week in Kraków. Early evening, temperatures still around 30C. The essence of European elegance. Rather than go my usual route from the station to Kazimierz, via Planty and Starowiślna, I took the direct route via back streets and discovered a whole new Kraków, but more on that next time I'm there. In the meanwhile, the splendour of ul. Lubicz at twilight.

Left: architecturally more Vienna than Warsaw; this bit of ul. Lubicz with its stone-lined underpass (over which runs the main railway line south), wrought-iron footbridge, decorative street lights and uplit facades create a magnificent atmosphere on a hot late-summer's evening. Below: the Hotel Europejski. When opened in 1884, only one of the three floors was for guests - the rest of the building was for their servants and hotel staff.

As the world tips through equinox, we here in the Northern Hemisphere move from summer to winter, the darkness and the cold await us - but then in six months' time, hopefully, another equinox and another balmy summer to look forward to, positive thoughts to keep us going through the dark months.

This time last year:
In which I lose a lot of data from my old laptop

This time two years ago:
Konin - town of aluminium, electricity and coal

This time five years ago:
Car-free day falls on a Sunday

This time six years ago:
Vistula at record low level

This time nine years ago:
Car-free day? Warsaw's roads busier than ever

This time ten years ago:
The shape of equinox

This time 11 years ago:
Potato harvest time in Jeziorki

Between Equinox and Equilux

This wheel's on fire... rolling down the road... From Warsaw to Szczytno (22 September) and back (24 September). No commentary, just the captioned photographs, whacked-up to reflect what I saw and felt.

Somewhere on the Krajowa Siodemka, south of Nidzica

Lovely, vivid, full rainbow - and I left my 10-24mm lens at home!

The road to Szczytno between Nidzica and Jedwabno

The road back to Warsaw between Szczytno and Jedwabno

Re-entering Warsaw's atmosphere, south of Płońsk

Back in Jeziorki; dusk.

This time two years ago:
Heritage or high-rise?

This time last year:
Shopping notes

This time four years ago:
My grandfather

This time six years ago:
Surreal twilight, ul.Karczunkowska

This time seven years ago:
From Warsaw to Seville, via Munich and Madrid

Thoughts occasioned by today being Equilux

Ever wondered why 'equinox' (which happened on Tuesday morning at 02:29 as the plane of the earth's equator passed the centre of the sun) does not mean exactly 12 hours of night and 12 hours of night?

It should do - and yet it's not. Because the sun is a disk and not a point of light, because of refraction of light through the atmosphere, the length of day in Warsaw on 23 September is over nine minutes longer than 12 hours. But today, the day is 12 hours, 1 minute and 18 seconds long. The closest it will be to Equilux - that moment when daylight and darkness are equal. Tomorrow the day in Warsaw will be 11 hours, 57 minutes and 16 seconds. That's it - night's closing in.

"And the days grow short when you reach September"

[It's worth visiting the excellent TimeandDate.com website, which answers the question about equinox not being exactly 12 hours of day and 12 hours of night in a very succinct way. It's also an excellent website for astronomical data - moonrises and so on, one to bookmark and visit daily.]

Six dark months, culminating in the winter solstice on 21 December. On that day - and on the next - the Warsaw day will be seven hours, 41 minutes and 57 seconds long. Between now and then, we'll lose over four hours and 20 minutes of daylight.

But hop on a plane to London tomorrow, transfer to one of the long-haul terminals, and fly to Santiago de Chile, Buenos Aires, Auckland or Adelaide, and you'll find that down in the Southern Hemisphere, winter's just coming to an end, and spring is about to burst forth.

We live on a lump of rock, spinning around its own axis every 24 hours, orbiting our star once a year. Our star the sun is one of 100 billion (or even 400 billion) stars in our galaxy, which we call the Milky Way. The Milky Way's one of 200 billion observable galaxies. The number of stars that we're aware of is between two and eight to the power of 22 (that's somewhere between 20,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 and 80,000,000,000,000,000,000,000).

How many of those stars are orbited by planets that host life? Sophisticated, intelligent, sapient life? Maybe just one in every trillion? Does that sound reasonable? If so, we can expect 20 billion stars out there to support life.

Doesn't this place our existence, and the problems caused by Mr Putin, jihadists, the Ebola virus, climate change even - into a wider perspective?

As autumn draws in, man's mind turns to the souls of the departed and the supernatural. It is time to ponder the Universe in its entirety and consider our lives in that context.

This time two years ago:
The magic of Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand's Marlborough region

This time four years ago:
Grandson of Poles elected to lead UK's Labour Party

This time six years ago:
Give me sunshine!

Welcome to spring

At 05:14 GMT (06:14 here in Warsaw), the sun crossed the equator (i.e. the suns rays beamed vertically down upon the equator for a brief moment before sweeping northwards). Spring has arrived several hours earlier than usual because this is a leap year. Winter has finished, in the astronomical sense at least. Past years have shown that wintry phenomena have a habit of returning well into April, indeed last year Warsaw experienced snow as late as 4 May.

So here it is - at last, and helpfully, the sun's shining as if to celebrate this morning, though outside it's a mere +4C. We have have survived another winter; now spring, summer and golden autumn await. Six months of warmth and light.

For a detailed summary of the winter of 2011-2012, let me direct you over to Student SGH's blog, where once again he presents a meteorological record of how southern Warsaw was treated by the climate.

Finally - let me call for an end to winter time. It's a waste of evening daylight. In midwinter the vast majority of us in the Northern Hemisphere wake in darkness, leave home in darkness and leave work in darkness. So an hour one way or another makes no difference. Where the difference does matter is from late January until late March, when the receding dusk could lift our spirits were it to give us some daylight after working hours.

"What do we want?"
"No return to winter time!"
"When do we not want it?"
"Not in the wee small hours of Sunday 28 October 2012, nor ever again"

This time last year:
Giving way or standing firm?

This time two years ago:
Summerhouses near Okęcie

This time three years ago:
A truly British icon

Clinging on to summer

In most people's minds, summer ends on 1 September, when schools go back. Astronomical summer ends this year on 23 September, when the sun, having spent the bulk of its time shining over the Northern Hemisphere, retreats back across the equator. At this time of year, within a month either way of the equinox, we feel the day shortening at a noticeable pace. Every day, the sun sets two minutes earlier, and rises two minutes later; as a result the day shortens by four minutes, or around half an hour a week. Frightening.

Still, the weekend was as the meteorologists had predicted it - hot and sunny. As I write, I can feel the effects of the sun's rays on my face, having spent most of the day out and about on my bicycle.

Indeed, most of Warsaw was out and about on its bicycle. The cycle path along Przyczółkowa was like a bicycle motorway. It attracted a wide range of cyclists - from very young to very old; mountain bikers, road racers, trendies on their sit-up-and-beg amsterdamki, riders of old school Polish Jubilat or Wigry bikes, parents with their little ones in kiddie seats or trailers. In fact, the only tribe of cyclist unrepresented on the cycle path to Powsin were hipsters on fixies. This is not a place to be seen - unlike the forecourt of Złote Tarasy, where fixies are piled high, chained to the railings. (The way to mount one, by the way, is to swing your leg over the handlebar).

Above: the cycle path from Wilanów to Powsin; very busy indeed - as it should be. A cloudless day.

No rain all week, yet the water table is still high, puddles abound and with them and the heat - the midges/mosquitos (call them what they are: komarzyska - culex pipiens). In the midday sun, there are few about, but around dusk they are still a total nuisance.

While the sun shines, we have got to make hay. Within a few weeks, the weather will have changed; darkness will have replaced light as the dominant mode; summer clothes will have been put away and replaced by thick, heavy coats. Make the most of every sunny hour.

This time last year:
Compositions in yellow, blue and white

This time two years ago:
When the Z-9 used to run, temporarily, to Jeziorki

Reasons to be cheerful

It's still a dark and gloomy time of year. Yet there are flashes of optimism here and there, those early, early intimations of spring that bring hope that our spot here on the northern hemisphere. It will be getting brighter and warmer soon. The morning saw some sunshine, birdsong could be heard, the temperature hit +8C.

And the day is getting decidedly, noticeably longer. Each day is more than three and half minutes longer than the one before. This will accelerate towards Equinox, which falls this year on 20 March. Around the spring equinox, day length increases by over four minutes a day.

Above: W-wa Powiśle station, just after 5pm. Still traces of light in a late-dusk sky. Although we've only gained 40 minutes of daylight in the morning (sunrise now is just after 7am), there's an extra hour and ten minutes of daylight in the evening. In two weeks time it will still be broad daylight at 5pm.

But before spring finally explodes into life, there will be more snow, sleet, frost, day after day of endless dark cloud, and we'll still be waking up to darkness. Let us be of good cheer.

And some more good news today: Warsaw enjoyed 2,200 hours of sunlight in 2010, I read in Gazeta Wyborcza's local section Gazeta Stołeczna.

The hammer of darkness

One more working week before the clocks go back, and then no more leaving the office before dark for five months. A deeply depressing thought. Yes, there will be those wonderful sunny days of winter (such as this one, this one and this one), but here in Warsaw there will just over be seven and half hours of daylight in late December (compared to nearly 17 in late June).

But having the annual cycle of darkness and light makes you cherish that light, makes you welcome the impending and inexorable return of spring, and with it longer, warmer days. Living near the equator, where seasonal fluctuations are less marked that in our more northerly latitudes, one can get blasé about the sun (and the effects of its lack on the psyche).

Above: ul. Buszycka, just after sunset. The last dying rays illuminate the clouds; a full moon is rising. You can't hold on to what's naturally fading.

When you have a bad day, be sure that a good day will come. And when you're having a good day - remember, darkness is only just around the corner.

Could Boethius have devised his wheel of fortune living on the equator?

Left: ul. Buszycka, looking quite un-European.

Sunshine brings out the best in everything

Since sliding gently from summer into autumn on Wednesday, the weather has been perfect. Today, the sun shone brightly in a cloudless sky with the temperature reaching an extremely pleasant +22C. Just before leaving home this morning, I espied the neighbour across the road exercising his flock of pigeons.

Round and round they flew, and as their wings caught the direct blast of the sun's rays, there was a sudden flash of purest white that a moment later disappeared as the birds darted up at a different angle. A most beautiful sight at any time of the year, but one predicated by the brilliance of a blue sky as background and a lack of clouds occluding the sun.

Do the birds feel the same joy as we humans do in the presence of the sun? Is it sunlight or high air pressure accompanying cloudless skies that raises our spirits? I would posit that all surface-dwelling creatures within our universe feel elation in the vigorous presence of their local star's benign rays. Not burning at this time of year, but warming and life-enhancing. Look at the spiders in their webs (nowhere nearly as big this year as they were last year), ants and beetles. All seem to express greater joy and vibrance in their movements when the sun shines on their backs.

Incidentally, the pictures above are 'as was' without any tweaking whatsoever in Photoshop - and no polarising filter. The sky was indeed this blue. Nikkor 80-400mm at 400mm.

Last bike ride to work this summer

But the bike will not remain garaged. Tomorrow, shortly before midnight, it will be the autumnal equinox and once again the balance between light and dark northern hemisphere will once more shift towards the dark side, with more nighttime than day. In three months time, we'll be down to just over seven and half hours of daylight a day in Warsaw.

So when the sun shines, it behoves us to make the most of it, gather in those mood-lifting rays and enjoy the warmth. Today, I tried a new way into town by bike. From the race course at Służewiec, rather than use the bicycle path along Dolina Służewiecka, I follow the route of the canal. The track runs through some muddy puddles but is basically fine, and a pleasant alternative to riding alongside the busy road.

Above: blocks of flats to the left, a crane on the horizon suggests that more blocks will shortly appear. The canal here is actually a drainage ditch for the airport, channelling rainwater from the flat plains of Okęcie towards the Vistula.

A month before spring equinox - let's move the clocks forward now!

Today we enjoyed ten hours and 17 minutes of daylight. The sun rose at 20 to seven and set a minute before five. The day, two months after winter solstice, is two hours and 43 minutes longer than the shortest day. Comparable to late October, two months before winter solstice, when the clocks go back for winter.

Why not put the clocks forward next weekend (the last one of February), rather than wait until the end of March? We'd be getting an extra hour of daylight in the evening, making us all feel that spring is just around the corner. Apart from the psychological benefit, it would also save money and reduce carbon dioxide emissions as we'd be switching the lights on an hour later.

What about the mornings? Well, the sun would rise at 07:40 rather than at 06:40, which is the case in late October just before the clocks go back. Not a problem. More on the subject of energy-saving time here.

My own body clock is adjusting to the changing length of day; I'm waking up earlier and going to sleep earlier.

The above pictures were taken in our garden after a day of sunshine, a night of frost and a preceding night of rain. The snows are slowly melting, but there's a brittle crust of ice, almost thick enough to stand on, on top of the snow cover. It's still deep enough to go over the top of my snow boots. In the drifts, the snow is almost knee-deep.

Clocks go back - but when to set them forward?

At 03:00 this morning the clocks went back for winter. An end to Daylight Saving Time. For the next five months.

We revert to winter time (CET in Poland, GMT in the UK) just two months (more or less) before winter solstice. Summer time (CEST in Poland, BST in the UK) returns three months after winter solstice (late March). Why the assymmetry?

So I say - let's set the clocks forward for summertime not at the end of March, but at the end of February. Let's have winter time for four months of the year, not five.

There are three very good reasons.

One is energy saving. The extra hour of daylight represents a huge saving when the entire northern hemisphere is taken into account. A 2007 study estimated that winter daylight saving would prevent a 2% increase in average daily electricity consumption in Great Britain, which is at similar latitudes to Poland. Now that's for five months - I'm talking here about one month as there are advantages in waking up later in mid-winter. So if five months would be a 2% saving, one month would be a 0.4% saving - 240,000 tonnes of CO2 just for the UK alone.

Two is road safety. By late February, the sun rises early enough for children to go to school in daylight even with the clocks set forward an hour. But the extra hour of daylight in the evening ensures that the evening rush hour takes place before the onset of darkness. This would save lives.

Three - perhaps most important - is psychological. By late February, the body is yearning for the longer day and for spring. The sun rises at around half past six in the morning and sets just after five in Warsaw. I'm sure we could live with a sudden jump to a half past seven sunrise to balance out a six pm sunset. This would lift the moods of millions in the northern hemisphere, not just those suffering from Seasonal Affective Disorder. This affects some 8%-9% of populations living in our latitudes.

By late February, the day is three hours longer in Warsaw than it is on 22 December (winter solstice), but it's still a hour and half shorter than at vernal equinox (22 March).

This academic group wants GMT+1 imposed in the UK (ie the same time as Central Europe has in winter and the UK has in the summer) all the year round. This has the drawback that the UK will be out of step with Continental Europe for seven months of the year.

I'm offering a sensible compromise - all of Europe still changes clocks on the same day, but let's move that day one month forward - to the last Sunday of February - across the whole of the EU.

What'd you say?

When does summer become autumn?

Astronomically, on or around 22/23 September - autumn equinox (this year: 22 September, at 23:18 Warsaw time). This is when the sun crosses the equator, and in the Northern Hemisphere the day begins to become shorter than the night. But that's not the answer that most people would feel. There might still be summery days ahead, but summer's over. Above: Cabbage field, ul. Dawidowska. Below: ul. Nawłocka looking west. Foliage still late-summery.

Though the astronomers set the dates for the changing of the seasons to those of the equinoxes and solstices, to the mind of the lay person, summer ends with the return to school. In Britain, there's the Summer Bank Holiday - the last Monday of August, a day off work - after which it's flat out to Christmas. In the USA, there's Labor Day (first Monday of September).

Britain tends to go for calendar seasons rather than astronomical seasons, the norm in Poland. So in the UK, autumn runs from 1 September to 30 November, winter from 1 December to 28/29 February, spring from 1 March to 31 May, and summer from 1 June to 31 August. In Poland, seasons run from solstice to equinox, equinox to solstice and back again. This is because with the continental climate, it takes longer for the processes of warming and cooling to begin than in Britain's Atlantic climate.

For me, whether in London or Warsaw, summer ends when I can no longer go out in but one layer of clothing. Any sunny morning in August when I'd choose to cycle to work, I'd not need to put anything over my shirt. Last week (September 1 and 2) I still managed to get away with it. So - still summer. This morning though, gloomy, the wind bringing in dark clouds and dampness from the west. Below: ul. Achilesa, looking east.

The passing of summer and onset of autumn is like living with chronic disease, or just aging. Some days are better, others are worse.

Looking at my blog posts for Septembers past, I can see summer sliding into autumn in different ways; last year there was a two-week period from 11 to 24 September of cold, gloomy and damp weather, after which some welcome autumnal sun reappeared.

Today has been dull but with some sunny outbreaks and on the whole not too cold. Above: View from our front porch. Note new house to the left, about to get a roof.

Time to start adjusting the mindset; putting on that extra layer when going out in the morning and getting used to the evenings getting shorter and shorter until that ghastly Sunday in late-October when we lose a whole hour in one go. In just 15 weeks time it will be dark at three-thirty.

This time last year:
Lots of small planes, up close

This time two years ago:
Burnt by the Sun

Forward go the clocks

A month too late, I reckon. Why is it that we set the clocks back on the last weekend of October - less than two months before the winter solstice, and set them forward again on the last weekend of March - more than three months after the winter solstice?

Does anyone else agree that the changes from summer to winter time and back again should be symmetrical? By mid-March, the sun is rising very early (half past five on the spring equinox on 20 March), but we could really all do with that extra hour of evening daylight.

Plus - in this day of climate change worry - surely if the Northern Hemisphere were to use one hour less of electric lighting for four whole weeks, that would make an immense difference to carbon dioxide emissions. Not to mention the money everyone would save.

Having the clocks go forward on the last weekend of February would make March in the northern hemisphere brighter and happier.

This time last year:
Griping about the same thing