by jphilo | Sep 23, 2014 | Top Ten Tuesday
The September equinox left the building two days ago. That means shrinking daylight hours and increasing hours of darkness for the next several months. Not my favorite time of year. But in an effort to think positive, I came up with ten things to appreciate this season of darkness.
10. Unemployment will go down as work hours expand for burglars and peeping toms.
9. It gets dark soon enough to take kids outside to play with sparklers before bedtime. Yes, toes and fingers and bums will freeze. But we are thinking positive, remember?
8. Burned out lightbulbs are more obvious and therefore are replaced sooner.
7. Sunscreen bills go way, way down. No need to mention that heat and lighting bills go up because that wouldn’t be positive. At. All.
6. Less daylight means people won’t notice dirt in the corners of my car/bathroom/kitchen/closets. You get the idea.
5. Those who wait to binge watch TV series on DVDs and Netflix don’t have to wait so long.
4. Putting on jammies right after supper is perfectly acceptable when it’s dark outside.
3. Long, cozy, dark nights + reading lamp = more hours to read!
2. Long, dark nights + cold + nasty weather = a perfect reason to stay home and write.
1. Once each day’s minutes of darkness overtake the minutes of daylight, only three months remain until the December solstice when daylight hours start increasing again!
by jphilo | Sep 27, 2011 | Reflections on the Past
The autumnal equinox is a few days past. Which means this recycled post is slightly belated. But when you read this post from September 21 of 2008, perhaps your will agree with my opinion that it’s a perfect antidote to the winter-comes-after-fall blues that strike this time of year. And if anyone knows where Ruth Monroe now lives, please leave a comment. I’d love to catch up with her!
The Equinox – Recycled
The radio announcer said today is the equinox. While he explained the day’s significance, I thought of my college theater professor, Dr. Ruth Monroe. She directed a story theater show when I was a freshman. She chose one of Rudyard Kipling’s Just So tales, maybe “How the Elephant Got It’s Trunk” for us to turn into a children’s scene. For over thirty years, I’ve been able to remember only one sentence fragment from the story: One fine morning in the middle of the procession of the equinox.
Least you think I’m a total kook, I can remember the fragment because Doc Monroe jazzed it up into a chant that opened the show. We started out with:
One fine morning in the middle of the procession of the equinox,
I say the equinox,
I say the equi-equi-equi-equi-equinox…
and went on from there to I don’t remember what, except that it was pretty cute and kids laughed a lot.
But every September and March, when the equinox rolls around, I do remember what a wonderful teacher and director Doctor Monroe was. I remember Thoren Hall, now torn down, where we rehearsed. I remember Alpha Psi Omega initiations at midnight on the stage and cast parties at her house after shows and trips to Minneapolis to visit the Guthrie.
I don’t know where Doctor Monroe lives. I don’t know if she’s still alive. But each fall, when the sumac turns and each spring when the crocuses bloom, suddenly she snaps her fingers and jives to the beat. So I join her in the chant:
One fine morning in the middle of the procession of the equinox,
I say the equinox,
I say the equi-equi-equi-equi-equinox…
…as I prance down the road.
Out of breath and still dancing, we laugh.
