fox: my left eye.  "ceci n'est pas une fox." (Default)
fox ([personal profile] fox) wrote2002-02-27 06:15 pm

Lovin' this ...

It's 6:00, and I can still see daylight outside. Thank god. Spring is on its way.

I mean, it hasn't exactly been a tough winter -- we had 70-degree days in January and there's been maybe a total of a half-inch of snow all season, which is a damn shame. I like winter to be winter. But I also like the arrival of spring. Every year, I'm darned good and ready for it. Because even in a crummy winter like we just had, it still got dark in the middle of the afternoon, and that's just depressing.

I find that strange. I like the night time; I'm a confirmed night owl. I am always, always, always more alert in the evening and the night than in the morning -- doesn't matter when I go to bed or when I get up. My internal clock has very little to do with it -- 7 am is Not My Time. 11 pm is My Time.

But when I was studying in Edinburgh, I had a class that met five days a week at ... 4 pm, I believe. (Possibly 5 pm, but the idea is the same.) When I first got there, in the beginning of October, it was already well dusky by the time the class was breaking up at the end of the hour. It wasn't long before it was dark when we left class, and my best class-buddy* and I felt sort of gloomy. When December rolled around and it was nighttime-dark, stars out and everything, before we went in to class, we could hardly stand it. Conversely, in May, we could take a day trip, return on the train at 11:30, and still see daylight on the horizon. And that was a cheery, happy time.

I don't quite get it.

*He was a pal, all right. After the first term, one class hour a week was a particularly dry history survey, and it bored us senseless -- so we alternated weeks actually going, and pooled our notes.