Solstice.

[greenstorm]

I slept outside on my deck last night. I didn't want to miss the sunrise.

I didn't get off work till 8, home around quarter to 9. The car alarm across the street went off solid till about 11. I didn't get out to the solstice potluck, nor could I have made it to Paul and Bob's movie thing in time. I ended up at home, showing off baby rats to the roommate's friends (they're getting fur, they're adorable) and then alone on the lounger under some blankets.

The sun started to rise at 4am.

Angus had said he might come over after work and watch the sunrise with me. I texted him, he was busy at first and then went home, so couldn't come over anyhow since we're still on rat-show quarantine.

The first real sign of sunrise was this very fine, tiny sprinkling of birdsong from everywhere. The sky was only the barest bit light. I don't know which birds did it. It's an overcast day, and as everything lightened very slowly the definition crept into clouds. It was such a dramatic sky, texture everywhere, whipped lights and darks like the biggest painting of a storm you can imagine, though it was quite calm and warm.

There was a second layer of birdsong-- the first quieted, then it started again with louder birds joined in. An hour later, perhaps, it had died some and then everything started-- the crows were in it this time, although the pigeons didn't start mating calls til the actual sunrise.

I started crying intermittently at 4:30. It was the loneliest morning I've ever felt; normally for me morning washes everything away and start clean, and it's late nights that bother me. The sun was really, truly up at 6-something (I couldn't see it, besides being overcast my balcony faces west) and though I had planned to spend the entire day outside in some form or another I gave up and crawled in to bed, closed the window, and finished crying in a less conspicuous place than right above Victoria drive. I kept flipping Piotr's hourglass gift to me (make it through this two-minute period... and then this). I thought very hard about Piotr and Ellen, who felt like anchors (I could call them and it would be okay). I felt like if I talked to anyone on the phone I would throw up or just die on the spot.

I haven't hurt that much since... well, it's been awhile. I don't know whether it's because of the return of the internet (feeling crappy seems connected) or just the solstice (Acceptance of gifts? Acknowledgement of loss?) or nothing or everything. Eventually I curled up with Friskie and fell asleep, waking in a better state of mind. I've made hippie muffins and I'll go back to work in a bit.

I wonder very much what evening will bring.

This was in my head. It's by Lord Byron:

So, we'll go no more a-roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
And the moon be still as bright.

For the sword outwears its sheath,
And the soul wears out the breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
And love itself have rest.

Though the night was made for loving,
And the day returns too soon,
Yet we'll go no more a-roving
By the light of the moon.

Comments

Hmm...

[dunfalach.livejournal.com]

I think it will have more meaning to you than to some, that the lowest line on my screen before scrolling down was "So, we'll go no more a-roving" and my brain immediately responded with "And we'll go boating..." Knowing your love of boats, this struck me as extra irony. But do you know what it's from?