With winter solstice upon us once again, the days grow short. The nights give us sparkling opportunities for star watching, and in their darkest, most chill hours, call for a comforter pulled up under the chin. People who hail from
With winter solstice upon us once again, the days grow short. The nights give us sparkling opportunities for star watching, and in their darkest, most chill hours, call for a comforter pulled up under the chin.
People who hail from Manitoba and Minnesota, Maine and New York might chuckle at that last statement, since their bodies are acclimated to real, snow-bound cold. But here in the tropic zone, with thickened “sea-level” blood, we island folks won’t hesitate to reach for hoodies and socks (in our slippahs?), and coverlets, too, when temperatures dip beneath 70 degrees.
One of my friends is about to return from a really northern-northern trip up the coast of Norway to enjoy the views of spectacular fiords and (hopefully) view the northern lights, the lovely aurora borealis effect that many of us will only know through reading descriptions, or viewing photography and art.
I’ll be interested to learn how she handled huge drop in temperature, for there won’t be a beach dress or pareo (sarong) in what she packed.
As for us, we would go in summertime, when even Scandinavian countries turn green-leafy and sunny, and daytime temperatures rise to somewhere around 70 degrees. It’s challenging enough to pack for travel to our Pacific Northwest during winter, even though what the good folk of Washington and Oregon term the “Pineapple Express” comes toward them from Hawaii and keeps dumping rain, rather than snow and ice, upon them. (And this is not warm rain.)
Back to the subject of the winter solstice — “the darkest day of the year” — is it no wonder, then, that human beings like to “light up” and make everything sparkle. We have gone from the eras of candlelight and silvery tinsel through painted electric bulbs, the delicate “fairy lights” that Disneyland popularized, through icicle-light configurations and, now, LED garlands and ropes we can drape pretty safely, inside and out.
Several houses and their surrounding greenery in our neighborhood are decorated in an array of pleasing lights that switch on at dusk and send a glow into the atmosphere that surely might be picked up by a roving satellite. Similarly, the emblazoned floodlights and borders brighten Kukui Grove and other shopping centers.
There are the artfully wrapped palms and monkey-pod tree trunks that give one a distinct feeling of “aah” when driving by the Historic Courthouse in Lihue, and, of course, the lighted displays within the building itself, open for the public to enjoy on weekend evenings this holiday season.
My husband and I also made it a point to drop into the Wilcox Memorial Hospital one recent evening specifically to enjoy the atrium display of Christmas trees decorated by each of the hospital’s departments, an annual contest. “Most Creative,” “Best Traditional,” and other awards are pinned on the brilliant offerings. It was fun to hear comments from other people making the rounds: “I like the Grinch one best” or “The cowboy one’s great, for the kids. You see the boots, and that rope wrapped ‘round?” and “The poofy-dress lady with the pearls — that’s the one.” As for me, I gravitated toward the food service department’s offering, some cleverly fashioned paper-plate ornaments with green tissue and assorted frou-frou representing salad and more, plus a plastic fork. (Maybe because it was getting toward dinnertime.)
But even with all this (wo)man-made creativity and “fun” stuff with lighting up the trees of life and the civic and commercial areas , the truth might be that we can get closer to our own end-of-the-year selves, in review, before the new year begins by giving ourselves — and our family members — the gift of a quiet, reflective time in nature with the intent of watching the lights of the heavens come on and glitter.
And we might also build into this December holiday time the early rise from a warm bed that will take us heading toward the eastern shore to watch the orangey-gold egg yolk of our winter sun rising.
There are five “shortest days of the year” here, from Dec. 20 to Dec. 25. Each will hold 10 hours and 47 minutes of daylight, with sunrises right around 7:11 a.m. and sunsets close to 6 p.m.
Our island did not have the amount of heiau (sacred sites) designated by the first inhabitants’ attention to celestial cycles for nothing. Because our latitude “just happens” to be at 22 degrees north of the equator, it’s possible from areas on the south-eastern coast of Kauai, such as the Mahaulepu area, to watch the solstice sun rise and appear to “cut” the far cliff’s edge of the rocky escarpment, Kaweli-koa. Seeing this annual phenomenon would be a gift of immeasurable dimension, something money cannot and will not ever be able to buy, something to hold close in mind for a year, for a lifetime.
Dear readers, we hope you fully embrace the wonder, joy and hope of this season, echoing the phrases printed on so many of the local cards we mail and exchange. Yes, a healthy and rewarding holy-days season and “Happy New Year” to all until the next “Green Flash” in January.
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Dawn Fraser Kawahara, author and poet, regularly instructs on the topics of history and, Hawaiian culture for visitors to Kauai through Hawaii Pacific University’s “Road Scholar” program through Pacific Islands Institute. She serves as vice-president of Ka Imi Naauao Institute and on Ka Imi’s Educational Project committee. Her second memoir, “Burma Banyan, A Quest for Roots,” is due to be published in 2016. She continues to work through DAWN Enterprises on her love for books and information, and for creating beautiful wedding, bonding and other ceremonies.
