I was up at 4:15 a.m. this morning. Again.
Plenty of time to make coffee and toast, cut up a melon, and carry it all to the balcony; to sit at peace in the quiet morning half-dark for a time before the daylight slid over my shoulders onto Puget Sound.
Our apartment sets at latitude 47.6 N; Blaine, Washington is at latitude 48.9 N, and you can't go any further north than Blaine before you hit Canada. And so, there is a lot of daylight this time of year; fifteen hours and forty minutes today, according to the Farmers' Almanac. It will reach sixteen hours on June 21st, the summer solstice.
That's a lot of daylight. When we arrived in Seattle, last Halloween, everyone began to tell us that the short winter day -- only eight hours of daylight at winter solstice on December 21st -- combined with the usual overcast gloom of December, January and February would be wearing.
It didn't bother me, but all this light is tedious; I'm not sleeping well.
Rachael told me it's because the Seattle winter suits my melancholy spirit and sardonic sense of humor; I told her she's been spending too much time reading the dictionary. In truth, she may be right; she most often is.
I know I will sleep better when September comes along.
