Light box

At this time of the year I am almost insanely excited by the sunshine in the early morning or late afternoon. The long low rays make the light seem tangible and the knowledge that it is on the wane imparts an urgency to capture it.

I was trying to find some images of lucidity in the garden when I noticed the setting sun shining on the greenhouse, filling it with light. If only it could remain trapped there through the winter.

Why is it that we northerners so crave the sun? We have the long bright evenings and white nights of midsummer but as the year turns we start to mourn the dimming of the light. People of the lower latitudes have no more light, just less diurnal variation. Is because our species evolved in Africa that we so dread the days drawing in?

Seasonal affective disorder is said to be a problem for 10% of the population in Scandinavia and many people rely on light boxes to get them through the winter.
Simply raising the light levels in residential homes for the elderly has been found to improve both cognitive ability and mood, as if bringing to life people apparently sunk in torpor.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light!
I do. Pointlessly.