Tomorrow is the longest day of the year. I love the longest day of the year, except that it means the days are beginning to get shorter again. Other than those who suffer from seasonal affect disorder, I think I welcome the change to Daylight Savings Time as much as anyone. I relish the thought of three months of increasingly longer days plus a couple of additional months that are pretty delightful, light-wise.

On the Cape Cod vacations we took when our children were young, we often headed over to Duck Harbor to watch the extraordinary sunsets—after dinner. Although I ride my bike to work all year round, it's so much nicer to ride home in the daylight. And when we have friends over for supper at this time of the year, I can glance out at our garden and watch the sun set and the shadows deepen from cocktails through dessert.

I've considered the possibility of following the sun. I could live in the northern hemisphere for six months and then head south, way south. Or I could move to Ecuador and live 365 days of spring.

But then I remember that without the dark and dreary days from November through February, I might not appreciate the joy of that first crocus.