How I See It, Volume 1, number 12, December 1999 How I See It These December days when we have so little daylight, I suffer from serious light and color deprivation and count the days until Solstice. As soon as the earth starts to tilt back towards the sun, my spirits will start to rise. You can have your arbitrary millenniums and holiday celebrations, but I’ll take Solstice any old time. Every morning I wait for the sun to rise. I stand by my window looking for the first pale rays of light and don’t relax until I see that bright orb climb over the mountains. On very cold days I am always afraid that it will peek over the horizon and say, "Too cold, too cold," and go back down. I can’t let that happen. I have to stand here every morning to help the sun rise. My psyche is very primitive and my priorities very clear. My job in life is to help the sun rise every morning, and let my dogs in and out. And once the sun is up, I know that everything is going to be OK. Sure, I have full-spectrum lights in my house, but I don’t get the same kick from a light fixture. While it certainly beats standing in the dark, it’s a far cry from the real thing. But lately I’ve figured out a way to pull more light into my life. When Solstice comes, I’ll be ready. I’m going to paint one of my walls a terracotta rose to reflect the sun. Then I’ll paint my arctic entry yellow and my hallway green. I’m going to get a jump on spring and at the same time give some moral support to my confused geranium with its bright red blooms. Hey, if it doesn’t work, I’ll paint over it. It’s not irrevocable. It’s just a can of paint. I can change my life on a dime, or at least $8.95.
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