This will be the last entry in the post Winter Solstice sunrise/sunset series. 

The inconsistencies continue between the numbers of minutes of daylight gained in the mornings and evenings, but I'm discontinuing the study. This pandemic has taught me a few things, not the least of which is that there's a reason why I'm not a research scientist. It requires far too much attention to detail. People in our instant gratification society  often criticize scientists and public health people for not being more quick and consistent in their responses to Covid 19, but I am not among them. Research takes time, patience and an ability to question what you think you know in order to discover another possible truth. That's too much like work. I'm retired now and all that concerns me is the glorious fact that since the Winter Solstice on December 21, 2020 we have gained 1 hour and 37 minutes of daylight in Vernon. 

Quite a few of the new hours were sunny this week. I intended to try skiing but didn't.  I still get sharp, hot pain in the back if I do too much, but things have improved. I thought of trying careful cross country but just couldn't get excited about gathering my ski gear together and driving up to Sovereign where it would be all white and wonderful, but colder than down in town. This has been the first winter that I've spent in the valley since I moved to Vernon. It's been an unusually mild and relatively snow free one. I've actually enjoyed it. I've gone, either alone or with friends, on walks I hadn't known about before. I've spent more time on local beaches than I ever have in the ten summers I've lived here. I don't like lying on a towel in the sand under the hot summer sun, but walking by the water in winter boots is wonderful. 

Yesterday, Bonnie Henry extended the mandate about not gathering in groups beyond your household until the end of February. The only houses I go into are Mo and John's and Miriam and Bill's. I can do this because I live alone. Our Rec. Centre is still open, so I walk there on Tuesdays to swim a bit and relax a lot in the hot tub and bubble pool. BC schools remain open, with a few changes in mask-wearing protocols this week. A few anti maskers were shuffling around carrying signs on sticks at the corner of Polson Park near Highway 97 one day last week when I was walking there, but they didn't get many honks from passing motorists. People are worried about the developing variants of the virus and confused over the delays in the delivery of the vaccines the federal government ordered and its failure to invest in Canadian vaccine-making facilities. Some are questioning the provincial government's distribution of the shots. But aside from people with legitimate doubts about the rapidly developed vaccines that are now available and rabid antivaccers, most seem content to keep their distance, wash their hands, wear masks and accept the inevitable wait for their turn to get the shot and do their part to help make the herd immune. When I reread Camus'  The Plaguea while ago I took note of some of the ideas presented through the lives of the characters. The best among them exhibited a kind of active fatalism. The plague was an unavoidable given, from which there was no island of escape. The only solution was to try to do whatever good was within their power to do. One of the lines connected with the tireless work of Rieux, the doctor, was that he endeavoured to, "...provide opportunities for the munificence of chance."  I like that idea. 

The theme of the winter carnival this year is the Wild West roots of the city. They are doing admirably well to keep it lively in this time of Covid. They are going to have car tours of Polson Park where there will be an ice sculpture and light show. This sculpture represents the arrival of the train in town. I saw it being finished when I was on one of my walks this week.