But the dwindled nights of June seem barely long enough to contain a nap, let alone a proper sleep and proper dreams. I'm most pleased to be nocturnal as the solstice nears. Were I otherwise, I might see no night at all this time of year. To live constantly in sunlight would be a dismal thing. The northern latitudes would be all but unbearable to me through the season of extended daylight, redeemed only by the hours of lingering dusk.
Tonight, there were fewer than eight hours of true darkness, and I find myself resentful of dawn's approach. Not that I'm ungrateful for what night I had, and for the cooling of the air it brought, but I'll feel a sense of deprivation until July has mostly gone, at least. Earth's servile bow to the sun is shameless. I can never quite forgive it.