That's an hour or two before supper for sunset. My poor birds; cold weather and limited foraging time. Then sixteen hours of night. At this time of year, I make sure that the feeder is always replenished.
And for us humans, it is S.A.D. weather. "Seasonal Affective Disorder", for those living south of the border. The days of melancholy, of pulling the curtains, shutting in the light, slowing down, puttering, remembering the glow in the belly of the old wood stove.
Farther north, they have it worse: in Bella Coola, where I used to live, sunset is about the same, 4:18 PM, but the sun peeks over the mountains in the lower parts of the valley at 8:28 today, much later up-valley. A Smithers day goes from 8:45 to 4:00. Barely 7 hours.
I keep myself sane (if you can call it that) by counting the days double. From now to the Solstice will be 12 days of decreasing daylight; another 12 of the upswing, and we come to January 1st, when the day will be the same length as today. Eight hours, eighteen minutes. Tomorrow, the target date will be December 30th. Two days for the price of one.
24 days. I think I can handle that.
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Photos: dawn from our parking lot; "red skies in the morning", these days. "Sailors take warning." And a chickadee at the feeder this summer.
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