About twelve hours ago was winter solstice, or the moment of the year when the northern hemisphere is at its maximum tilt away from the sun. This means the days will get longer and longer from now until the summer solstice (at 5:26 am on June 21). A poem:
I am hibernating.
I am so cold that I can't run, not even to a warm place. So cold I can't get out of bed to get another blanket. I can't remove my shirt to put on a warmer one. I can't leave the house to go to a house with a fireplace. I can't stand under the cold water and wait for it to turn hot. My roommate is a cheapskate and keeps turning the thermostat down to 60.
Ha! You thought it would be about the timelessness of space and rotation of planets or about the changing seasons and fleeting nature of existence itself. But it was just about being cold.
If the days are getting longer now, why doesn't it start getting warmer until after February? I have thought about this. Perhaps a little demonstration.
So you are sitting in a bathtub full of tepid water and I walk right in without knocking. To keep things simple, let's just assume you are fully clothed, for whatever reason. Hey, if you want to bathe in your clothes that's your own business. I don't want to know anything about it.
So you and I begin a conversation that you would deem rather ordinary except for the fact that I am dropping an ice cube into your tub every ten seconds. We continue discussing the weather, movies, school, and work (but not politics, religion, or art of course) until your teeth are chattering. I notice and say: "Oh, I'm sorry. Is this making you cold? I am out of ice anyway." Then I turn around and walk out leaving you alone in a pool of ice water. It will take you quite a while to warm up again, don't you think?