Aabservations

Last week was Autumn Equinox, when day and night are twelve hours each.  Few people realize, though, it’s also the time when the day shortens most quickly.  Indeed, here in London, the day was a full 3 minutes and 54 seconds shorter on September 25st than it was the day before.  This change adds up: in the month around the equinox, our days will have shortened by almost two hours.  You can see this change here: 

  

Even if we haven’t spent time on http://www.timeanddate.com/ pondering the length of the day, subconsciously we all are aware that something has been going on recently.  Perhaps we have found ourselves thinking more urgently about all that lies before us.  During the lazy days around June’s summer solstice, when day length narrows by less than a second each day, time feels endless.  But now, when the sun creeps through our curtains a couple of minutes later each morning, we viscerally sense the passage of time.

It’s strange, isn’t it, that we always focus so much on the “equi” bit of the equinox, rather than on the more meaningful fact that the two equinoxes are the fastest changing days in the year.  It’s especially strange when we think how obsessed we are with rates of change in other arenas, like GDP growth, up-and-coming celebrities, and progress. 

Here we are, though, stuck on this spinning orb, each day tilting further away from the warming rays of the sun, further towards the cold dark emptiness at the end of solar system.  So we gather up a blanket against the coming chill, and ponder what it all means. 

 And just at that moment, a happy thought shines in:  from now on, at least, the days will no longer shorten as quickly. 

 - Liz 

http://www.lizaab.com/

p.s.  Ok, I’m not an astronomer, and it be that the equinox is not actually the fastest-changing day, but a few days before/after it.

p.p.s. And for those of you in the Southern Hemisphere, enjoy the coming summer!

I am involved with the Forte Foundation and will be writing a few blog posts over the coming year.  My first post, which describes the past few weeks at LBS and has a link to some photos, is here:

http://forum.fortefoundation.org/2010/08/off-to-good-start-at-london-business.html

I can’t get over London White.  It’s such a beautiful color, and is everywhere here in London:  lining window frames on stone buildings, coating interior walls, painted over elaborate moldings on hundred-year-old ceilings, stripped across black asphalt to tell you to ‘’Look Right –>'’ when crossing the street.  London White is a majestic white, that demonstrates its specialness, privilege and pride in a way so subtle and polite it could only be English.  In China, by contrast, pollution would turn the sides of any white building to a chalky grey by mid-afternoon.  London too was once as polluted, and not that long ago.  This London White tells that hopeful story too, of how much a place can change in just a few decades.  But not just by dreaming:  it’s a white that requires constant care, which here is done quietly.  Look closely, though, and you’ll see residents with a soapy sponge wiping down their window frames on a Saturday afternoon, or ‘’Wet Paint'’ signs taped to newly repainted white corner posts.  It’s a time consuming white, that requires patience that New Yorkers like me can’t be bothered to have;  we’d prefer indestructible, dirtiable, resilient black, thank you very much.  Since this white is so vulnerable, it’s a trusting color too.  It assumes the best in others:  that strangers won’t put their feet up on the white bench, or spill red wine on the white carpet.  For immigrants to the UK — who come in all colors — London White is useful:  a clean background upon which we can start painting the next chapter of our lives.