1940s:

“Cold will deepen. The wind will sweep down bleak valleys with a freight of snow, and hilltops will be icy knobs against the distant sky. The year will end, and a new year begin, and time will flow like the stream beneath the ice.”

“The solstice is but a calculation, one point on a curving orbit in the cold depths of infinity.”

1960s:

“Since man was first aware of the changing seasons, the winter solstice has been occasion for awe and wonder and a challenge to faith. Hope and belief are easy in a warm, green world, but when the cold days come and the sun edges farther and farther south, cutting a constantly smaller arc across the sky, the imminence of utter darkness and oblivion seems at hand.”

Now it’s your turn: How would you describe the winter solstice in prose? Tell us in the comments.

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