Today is the shortest day of the year. Where I live, we will get approximately half the daylight hours that we will get during the Summer Solstice. Actually, slightly less. We get up in the dark and it is dark again long before supper time. The weather is cold and predominantly miserable.
But from today the daylight hours lengthen – at first imperceptibly, but gradually it becomes noticeable the hours of daylight are increasing. Finally, there is an end to the relentless lengthening of darkness, and within a few weeks it will become obvious that the world is, indeed, moving towards a time of warmth again.
Yet there are already new plants coming up; new growth that has been prompted by…what? When they broke the surface of the ground a few weeks ago the days were still getting shorter and certainly no warmer. Nature is strong and determined. Winter is never a lifeless time of death and decay. There is dormancy and rest, but also a lot of growth if one takes the trouble to look for it.
I’m thinking longingly of Spring, of renewal and growth. In a couple of hours I’m off to see a mumming play – perhaps I’ll leave you to Google that one – down on the Kent coast. Beer will be involved, of course, in line with the best folk traditions. Old – possibly ancient – celebrations of the turning of the year and the approach of Spring.
Nature dies down in winter. Certainly, at those latitudes where the days become much shorter and the temperatures plummet. Both wind and rain seem to become more frequent. Snow. It is a period of rest and renewal after autumn has put on a final glorious display of colour. Animals adapt to this in one of three ways: some will eat and eat of the autumn bounty of, especially, fruit, putting on large fat reserves and surviving the winter in a state of hibernation, their heart-rates dropping to a scarcely believable one or two beats a minute, their bodies slowly using these fat reserves for the little energy required to maintain a flickering life through those months. Some migrate, seeking a warmer climate until spring returns. These animals are, due to the obvious logistics required to travel hundreds of miles to reach those more hospitable climes, the larger animals and many of the birds. Travel over those kinds of distances would be out of the question for the smaller ones. Others stay put and, in the case of the plant eaters, scratch out a meagre living on whatever leaves and grasses survive through the winter. The carnivores, of course, stay and try to catch them.
Our Neolithic ancestors’ life cycles would be attuned to this pattern too. Autumn must have been lived fast and furiously. In the same way our medieval ancestors worked long hours to bring in the harvests, Neolithic man and woman must have used all the dwindling daylight to bring in as much food and fuel and dry bedding as possible before the winter period. Then by the end of autumn gathering would have largely ceased and they would have moved into a winter rhythm of life.
But how did they get through winter? What of the food they had gathered? Presumably, they had no way of storing fruit – could any of it be dried? Was it fermented for drink? Or was it all eaten as soon as it was gathered, as though they were all so many dormice seeking to build up their reserves? And could this, in fact, have been a part of their strategy to get through those months? To eat and eat until the perishable foods were all gone, and then to stop all but the most essential activities. To expend as little energy as possible and stay as warm as they could. Spending as much time as possible asleep.
And yet, they would still need to eat, and so with dwindling food reserves they would slaughter any beasts kept for that purpose, possibly smoking the meat to enable it to keep for as long as possible. Hunting would continue and might, in some ways, become a little easier. With less vegetation around, there would be less cover for their prey, and in snow there would be clear tracks to follow. But presumably this prey would still need to be pursued, and this would use precious energy, unless they relied more upon pits and snares.