Love the sunshine? March is the month when we make the make the fastest progress toward the longest day of the year, as one solar junkie discovers.
by Christian Yungert
March 14, 2016—Every year in late December, I suffer through the worst day of the year. No, not Christmas, when I choke down the mantra “It’s better to give than receive” as I give an iPod and receive a T-shirt. Nor is it because of the toothy smile and masked thousand-yard stare I produce while straining to find common ground with the cousin I haven’t spoken to since last Christmas. It’s not even enduring a sales pitch from my aunt’s stepson, who sure rubs his nose a lot for a guy without a cold.
The worst day of the year is far more detestable. It’s the winter solstice, that soul-crushing shortest day of the year when I am forced to BBQ by flashlight—at 5pm! But afterwards, I can literally see more light at the end of the tunnel; each day becomes my new favorite, and a little problem of my own begins to resurface.
The conclusion of the winter solstice begins the determined march towards June and the glorious longest day of the year. Each day will increase its amount of daylight, but by how much? And how fast is it happening?
On the winter solstice, the northern hemisphere is tilted its farthest from the sun. With each passing day, the earth notches towards the position where the northern hemisphere will be leaning closest to the sun: the summer solstice. Thanks to science and in this case, the U.S. Navy, we can calculate the expected change in daylight for any location.
January is the first to loosen up the purse strings. The month’s end sees a total increase in daylight of 41 minutes, gained at the tortuous pace of 1.28 minutes a day.
I remember what this feels like. February is reawakening an old thirst. By Leap Day, 62 more minutes of sunshine will warm my face. But I am getting greedy now, and 2.17 extra minutes of light each day is not enough.
I need more daylight, and I need it now! March knows how to mainline it for me. Daylight will increase at its fastest rate of the year, 2.35 minutes a day on average, thanks to the spring equinox. Occurring on March 20, the spring equinox is an astronomical event combining the effects of Earth’s tilt and orbit to deliver a day of equal length to both northern and southern hemispheres.
By March’s end, total daylight will have increased another sumptuous 73 minutes. The day’s total length will be 12 hours and 36 minutes, but I can’t be satisfied.
I might have to take April aside and ask a serious question: “Are you getting cheap on me?” Those 66 additional minutes of daylight logged by the last day of the month ain’t shabby, but I am growing accustomed to a certain lifestyle. April convinces me I’ll hardly notice when I’m soaking it up at 2.2 extra minutes a day.
May is the voice of reason. May tells me, “You’ve got a problem. It’s time to slow down.” I don’t want to hear it, I know my limits, I’ll tell you when I’ve had enough! But I am desperate for daylight in my evening hours, and I’ll reach out for the extra 49 minutes with two grateful hands.
June, deceitful by nature, will finally arrive offering its radiant treasure: the summer solstice. Dated for June 21, the summer solstice is the longest day of the year. I’ll have forgotten about the measly 9 minutes of light gained at that point when I am basking in 14 hours and 42 minutes of sunshine like a sea lion on the dock.
All good things must come to an end. And I, distracted by the solstice, will fail to notice when June shuts off the faucet. Fortunately, the change will come gradually. I’ve become dependent on the daylight; I’ll never survive quitting cold turkey. We’ll lose a couple minutes by the end of June. July will feign regret when it reclaims 37 minutes of sunshine each day.
As quickly as it came, the daylight will disappear. In the blink of an eye it will be Sept. 22, the autumnal equinox. We still have 12 hours of daylight, but that doesn’t make me feel better. I’ve got champagne taste now.
Sure, I’ve spent my daylight wisely, consuming enough charred meat and frosty beer to challenge the entirety of Oktoberfest, but that is small consolation. The dwindling daylight only serves to remind me that by December the daylight will total less than 10 hours. Then I’ll have to tell my aunt’s stepson he has powdered sugar in his mustache…wait…we don’t have those types of cookies.
Read El Nino Winners and Losers
Read Summer Solstice at a California Stonehenge
