morning twilight

The light between night and morning—

—when the crepuscular¹ creatures are out and about—

What do you call it?

It’s earlier than sunrise, yet later than —well I can’t show you what it’s later than because the drawing would be entirely dark indigo.

Oh wait. Yes I can.

It’s later than this.

Does that time have a name?

I’d love to call it the morning gloaming as it’s such a satisfying word, (from Middle English gloming (Scottish Dialect), but apparently that comes from the Old English glūm, dusk, so isn’t readily translatable to this pre-dawn time of day.

In Latin the words diluculum and crepusculum cover the morning and evening twilight respectively— though somehow neither conjures the feeling I’m after. Also crepusculum is now apparently used for both, at least as it pertains to the creatures (like me), who like to be out in it at both ends of the day.

Twilight² itself, according to my dictionaries, refers to a particular angle of the sun regardless of the time of day so that does fit the bill. Except both dictionaries also add “especially after sunset,” to the phrase “dim or faint illumination,” as though evening is the real twilight and morning a poor imitation. To which I say, bah!

Then again, maybe I don’t care what it is called. As I emerge (slightly bleary-eyed), from that etymological rabbit hole, I find I would rather like to keep it the quiet, private, almost secret time that it is. Who wants it to be a “thing,” when half the magic is that it is an “anti-thing” I love madly and always have (even when I didn’t notice)—no matter the time of year.³

None of which is to say that I don’t relish the (currently scarce) daylight and do my very best to make the most of those hours.

But that’s just it. Once it is light, clocks start to matter. There are schedules, appointments, phone calls, emails and the like. With the sun up it it feels like I’ve got to “get going, be productive and accomplish things” —whatever those look like on a given day. I can feel it in my muscles and bones. (Of course some of that might be caffeine).

But caffeine or daylight, the energy is terrific. I mean, what a thing it is to experience the tidal tug of the sun no matter the season—and be fortunate enough to be able, as they say, “to get up and do what needs to be done,” be it walking to the post office,⁴ tromping through tunnels of tall trees—

— weaving a tapestry or writing to you.

Indeed perhaps it is because I so relish the pleasure of doing that it’s taken me so long to notice how important is the being of these early hours.

Or at least to relish the kind of doing that is so much like being as to be almost an extension of dreaming—

—and shows up before the eye of the sun (and thus, somehow, the eye of the world), is upon me.

The time where once, when every daylight hour was spoken for and expectations abounded, I yet somehow re-learned how to be who I am when one is looking. ⁵

And even now with just Beryl and me, it’s still essential.⁶

Even if I haven’t figured out what to call it.

Have you?

Either way and in whatever hemisphere you dwell, I hope you can find moments of stillness in these days from Solstice to the New Year—a time Katherine May calls The Long Midwinter.⁷ In order to relish it myself I won’t be writing The Gusset next week. So see you in January!

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1. crepuscular adj. 1. Of or like twilight; hazy; dim 2. Zoology.Becoming active at twilight or before sunrise as do certain insects and birds

2. twilight: n. 1. The time interval during which the sun is below the horizon at an angle less than any of several standard angular distances. 2. the state of illumination of the atmosphere during this interval, especially after a sunset. 3. Any dim or faint illumination. [Middle English twilight, “light between (night and day),” half-light: twi-,half, two, Old English + light}

3. In six months I’ll have to get up mighty early if I want to spend time in it though….

4. So you know how last week I went on in the footnotes about how I was planning make and send post cards and how much I loved sending pieces of visible art through the mail? Well I have to eat my words because when I was uploading my drawings to the printing website, I inadvertently ordered cards with envelopes. And though I could send them without the, I’d not left enough space on the cards themselves for more than an address. So, envelopes it is. But at least I can get out my stamp pad and smash a few inky leaves onto those plain white expanses…

5. At one time of my life, the days were packed, and others considered knitting and spinning to be unnecessary and frivolous uses of “real work time,” so I trained myself to get up earlier and earlier to make room for my ever expanding passions. Happily, those textile-centric delights eventually propelled me in an entirely different direction (featuring them), where they could (and have) take over everything.

6. Just so you know (esp the night owls among you), I do not leap from my mound of blankets with a song in my heart. It takes a minute. Also stepping out the door in the deep dark (especially if it is blowing or raining), is never easy. But Beryl is always enthusiastic, and once we’re out in it (still half asleep), and I have taken a breath or two and begun to move, it’s pretty darned magic. Or at least, generally fine enough to take another. And another after that.

7. Katherine May’s wonderful Substack, The Clearing