Beneath a Kinder Sky
Jul. 5th, 2020 06:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
corviThis year, there was no night from June 11 to June 27.
After the sun sets, there is civil twilight, which lasts from when the sun sets to when the sun is six degrees below the horizon: the sun is down, but shapes of objects outside can still be distinguished. Then there is nautical twilight, which lasts until when the sun is 12 degrees below the horizon: stars begin to appear, and sailors can make navigational sightings. Then there is astronomical twilight, the last whisper of sunlight, still enough light to wash out faint stars and distant galaxies.
After the sun is 18 degrees below the horizon, it no longer lights the sky at all. This is true night. But from June 11 to June 27, it never gets that low here. The sky is always lit, however faintly, by the sun, which goes down in the west, scoots just under the horizon around to the east, and rises again, without ever vanishing all the way.
(my colour journal entries for what colour night was each day of June)
This is normally an extremely difficult time of year for me. Our house is perched on a lump of rock and has skylights and windows in every direction. You drown in light, and there is no escaping it. This year, though, June was very cloudy, and the moon was new on the solstice. A kinder sky, a darker night. Still a tired and dream-wracked time - it's hard to sleep deeply enough to forget your dreams - but it felt much less like being put through a pasta roller than June last year.
(the colour of the moon each day in June)
There's something almost enjoyable about the thrumming energy of that specific time of year where you feel like your skin is sewn to the sky, but I'm happy it was kinder this year.
After the sun sets, there is civil twilight, which lasts from when the sun sets to when the sun is six degrees below the horizon: the sun is down, but shapes of objects outside can still be distinguished. Then there is nautical twilight, which lasts until when the sun is 12 degrees below the horizon: stars begin to appear, and sailors can make navigational sightings. Then there is astronomical twilight, the last whisper of sunlight, still enough light to wash out faint stars and distant galaxies.
After the sun is 18 degrees below the horizon, it no longer lights the sky at all. This is true night. But from June 11 to June 27, it never gets that low here. The sky is always lit, however faintly, by the sun, which goes down in the west, scoots just under the horizon around to the east, and rises again, without ever vanishing all the way.
(my colour journal entries for what colour night was each day of June)This is normally an extremely difficult time of year for me. Our house is perched on a lump of rock and has skylights and windows in every direction. You drown in light, and there is no escaping it. This year, though, June was very cloudy, and the moon was new on the solstice. A kinder sky, a darker night. Still a tired and dream-wracked time - it's hard to sleep deeply enough to forget your dreams - but it felt much less like being put through a pasta roller than June last year.
(the colour of the moon each day in June) There's something almost enjoyable about the thrumming energy of that specific time of year where you feel like your skin is sewn to the sky, but I'm happy it was kinder this year.
