Beth Thames: Messing with daylight saving time and Mother Nature

This is an opinion column

My friend’s rescue dog can’t read. That’s why she didn’t understand the scrolling message at the bottom of the television screen reminding everyone to set their clocks ahead one hour in observance of daylight saving time.

So Maddie the dog sprang forward at 5:30 in the morning in Norton, Virginia where she lives, barking her warning that there might be varmints outside, as my friend put it. Maddie needed to to go out and chase them away. “Get out of here,” Maddie growled, giving the rabbits, raccoons, and chipmunks a scare.

So my friend let her out and decided to stay up instead of crawling back to bed. Might as well. The time change will last until we fall back in November, changing Maddie’s schedule again. We might as well get used to it.

Maddie doesn’t believe in DST, and neither do I. People are late before they even get out of bed. It’s dark when they shuffle into the kitchen to fuel up with coffee. At least the change comes on Sunday. Those in charge of these things knew it was better to be late for church than for work. The usher at the church door is more forgiving than your boss.

I know most people love the change to DST. They can drive home from work with daylight to spare. They can dig in the garden, take a hike, visit with neighbors, and share a drink with a spouse, all in the glare of the sun. It’s just hanging up there not knowing we’ve changed our relationship to it for many months to come.

Most people love the long days that head into even longer ones in the summer. But there are those among us who just want the day to be over, like in the James Taylor song. “I’ve seen sunny days that I thought would never end.” It’s not that we’re gloomy—though James may have been— it’s just that we like the sun setting at a decent hour, like 5 or so, instead of almost 7.

Sunset means you did the best you could with this day, the one that’s slipping away. You did your chores and duties—washed a load of clothes, paid some bills, ran a few errands, and took out leftovers for dinner. Maybe you made a dental appointment or wrote a letter, which seems like an accomplishment since now “letters” are emails and texts.

Now that it’s almost dark, you can sit in your chair, read your book by lamplight, talk to your spouse if you have one, and make a list for the next day’s errands, tasks, and goals. Or, you can just sit there, enjoying the afterglow when the sun drops like a glowing ball.

When my children were young, my husband and I used that “Say goodnight to the sun” trick, waving and hoping the ritual would get our toddlers down for the night. It worked, at least some of the time, but then they’d pop back up for a glass of water or a bathroom visit. At a young age, they knew the darkness was full of fun and childhood adventures.

Hawaii and parts of Arizona are of the same mind as I am – they don’t save daylight. Arizona residents welcome cooler temperatures when the blazing hot sun goes down, and Hawaii has so much sunshine they don’t see the need to have even more. I’m a fan of having as much dark as light, but I’m a minority. And I’ll probably lose the contest if we decide to get rid of daylight saving time altogether. We’ll keep messing with Mother Nature, and to me, that’s a shame.

Beth Thames welcomes your comments at [email protected]