Today is the Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year. The sun rose at 8.02 am and will set at 3.51 pm, giving us 7 hours and 49 minutes of day. The longest day, the Summer Solstice on June 21st 2026, is 16 hours and 38 minutes, more than twice as long.
Today’s sunrise is not, though, the latest sunrise of the year. On December 31 sunrise is at 8.06 am. Sunset though is at 4.01 pm, so a day of 7 hours and 55 minutes, 6 minutes longer than today. Not that you will notice it. This slipping about of sunrise and sunsets is due to the fact that the Earth’s orbit isn’t perfectly circular, and takes 365 ¼ days. This creates a slight mismatch between our 24-hour day and the sun’s position.
Today is shorter the further north you go, being no day at all from the Arctic Circle and further north. I had a friend who lived in Lulea in Sweden which is almost on the Arctic Circle. She bemoaned the winters, when the sun would just appear above the horizon at noon and immediately set. Though, there was the joy six months later with midnight sun, but in gloomy December you doubted you would ever get there.
The reason for short winter days is due to earth’s tilt towards the sun of 23.5 degrees. At this time of year, the northern hemisphere is tilted away from the sun giving us the short days. In the summer, the northern hemisphere is tilted towards the sun giving long days. The quarter day (365 ¼) is why the winter solstice can vary from Dec 20 to Dec 23.
These dark, chilly days is the reason for Christmas being when it is. No one knows when Christ was born, so the early church chose the darkest days of the year for the celebration of his birth.
As I write this, I have just heard a brass band playing In the Bleak Midwinter on the radio, my favourite carol, based on a poem by Christina Rossetti published in 1872 with the tune by Gustav Holst (1906). The words have been questioned, such as snow in Palestine, a very rare occurrence but I take it as it is as much of the Christmas story is mythical and has been added to fit the prevailing church view. The Massacre of the Innocents for example is definitely untrue. King Herod was a tyrant but he had died by the time Jesus was born. And there is no historical record of infants being slaughtered.
It’s not that cold today, reaching 11 degrees. We have had 57 mm of rain so far this month, above the average for December of 51 mm, with 10 days to go.
I walk around the garden and see what is in flower. Not a lot, these short, dark days, but some, here and there. There’s tiny flowers on the rosemary and more gaudy red earrings in the lemon balm, both in Sophie’s bed. There’s blue borage in the nearby herb bed, and a little way off under the small pergola Viburnum tinus has many umbels (clusters) of tiny white flowers. There’s hot lips (a salvia) by the side door. She sounds like a character from The Three Penny Opera who hangs around with Jack the Knife. There’s bergenia, a little winter weary, by the silver birch, a few scabious blooms in the triangular bed near the pond, a couple of penstemon trumpets in the Fothergill bed, some heather, pink and white, in pots, and, of course, marigolds, its orange gold flowers living up to the name of calendula. Or if we wish to be seasonal, Mary’s Gold, a favourite flower of the Virgin Mary, it is said.
We have a streets’ Advent Calendar, involving Earlham Grove, Sprowston Road and Clova Road. 24 houses have been allocated a number between 1 and 24 on these streets. Our house is 19, we dutifully put the number in our window on December 19. I took the photo about 5 pm, well after sunset. December 24 is the garden’s day. And we’ll be holding a celebration with food, games for children, and music. All are invited.
After Christmas, people will walk round the streets trying to spot all the numbers in the various window. If you fancy a walk, you’ll find most of the numbers on Earlham Grove (go right to both ends) with one on Sprowston and four on Clova. The walk is about a mile in length and quite good fun as the designs vary from the completely plain to very ornate. Some are visible at night, others not at all.
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Apologies to Bertholt Brecht. It should, of course, be Mack the Knife. Too many Jacks in my writing.