One of the best things about long winter nights is the chance to curl up with a book-friend. And just like human friends, once in a while a book tells me something that sticks for a very long time indeed.
Years ago, a dear (human) friend gifted me with a little book called The Unfinished Angel (thank you, Ruth!). Some of the story is now hazy to me, but I do recall a scene where, at the end of an endless night, the angel greets the daybreak. “Lo, the pinking of the dawn!” I loved how “pinking” was both verb and noun. I loved how this phrase was simultaneously grandiose and funny. I loved how the very next day, I witnessed the pinking of the dawn myself, and it was perfect.
Summer sunsets are warm and glorious, celebrations of the day that is passing.
Winter sunrises are gentle and comforting, celebrations of that the day is just arriving.
Dear friends, on this solstice morning, we’ve tipped into the light.
The day is just arriving.
Lo! The pinking of the dawn!