As the dark season begins, more light

It’s November in Fairbanks, when the sun reminds you of where on the globe you’re leaving the snowy imprint of your boots.

Our favorite star now drops beneath the mountains about 3:30 p.m. That’s one hour earlier than at the beginning of the month. Two if you count the time change that slingshots us, ready or not, into winter.

We remember now that we are tropical animals, built to survive only in a narrow band around the equator without nylon body wraps stuffed with feathers of birds that flew south two months ago.

Nights in these parts are now twice as long as the days.

But sometimes, if we pause in the scurry between boxes warmed by burned diesel, these sub-Arctic polar nights show us more than the usual pallet of stars against an inky sky.

Last Tuesday was an example.

A few hours