I’ve written in the past about the degree to which I dislike Daylight Saving Time. I think it’s a dumb idea. It doesn’t surprise me that politicians keep it alive, because retail and recreation industries of all sorts like it. It also comes as no surprise that those same politicians are quite capable of ignoring the facts that their biannual-messing-with-time serves no tangible economic purpose. The fact that, some studies show, switching may actually cause us to use more energy doesn’t matter to politicians the way facts in general don’t matter to politicians.
“Will you give me money?”
“Yes, I will.”
“I like your facts.”
People who like DST usually point to longer days. Later sunsets and the ample afternoon and evening hours they will have to enjoy the world around them. To them I say: “I’m happy for you.”
Unfortunately, I am a morning person, and that’s the reason I despise the arrival DST even more than the concept itself. DST arrives earlier now than it did when I was a younger morning person. These days, it arrives just as I am beginning to make my morning commute as the sun is rising. Today, that commute returns to darkness.
It’s no secret that I like to stop at Great River Park on my way to work. I’ve written about how there’s something about a river, and I still feel that way. I often carve a few minutes out of my morning commute to sit or walk along the shore of the Connecticut River, and those few minutes affect my mood. They make me happy. They don’t make it any easier to go to work, which is why my next stop is Dunkin Donuts, but they help carry me through the day.
I find that the beneficial effect of those few minutes by the river is amplified when it’s light out. Oh sure, I feel really good when I snag a photo of the city lights reflecting in the dark water, but it’s not the same. That’s a feeling of accomplishment. Standing by the river when the sun is rising is a feeling of awe and wonder. It’s a feeling that says everything is alright in what I know is a tragically imperfect world. It’s a spiritual feeling that only sunshine can provide.
If I’m lucky, I see some wildlife. Perhaps a few ducks on the water. Once or twice a year, a Blue Heron searching the shore for breakfast. A squirrel or six rummaging through the trash bins, or just some birds overhead. My commute was about to intersect their morning routine. A routine that they will keep on schedule, but I will miss. They aren’t concerned with time, or time zones and they certainly aren’t going to get up earlier or later because some politicians say so.
Today’s gallery contains scenes from the weeks before DST. Scenes I won’t see again for a few more weeks. Scenes I will miss.