December’s name comes from the Latin “decem,” meaning tenth.

Nowadays, that confusing nomenclature for our twelfth month doesn’t make sense—until you learn it was originally the tenth and final month of the year.

The old calendar of Romulus (c. 750 BC) counted just ten months in a year. The year and its calendar officially began with March. The days between December’s end and March’s beginning simply weren’t recognized with a name.

Supposedly, this got changed when King Numa Pompilius decided to divide this heretofore nameless span around 713 BC. He kicked off the new year at December’s end and subdivided the days into two months, which he christened January and February. Of course, this shoehorning then pushed each of the original ten months two spaces forward. An etymological oversight that now afflicts December, and additionally, September, October, and November with similar root-level name-synchronization.

December marks the winter solstice. The point in time when an increasing threat of impending darkness reaches its penultimate conclusion…only to be beaten back and turned away by the returning sun.

With light comes life—and for centuries past, winter’s passing solstice provided the joy and relief of knowing the worst had passed and things were once again on the mend.

Long before Christianity, the month of December was therefore considered holy by various peoples. There were solstice-based festivals or ceremonies from the Cave of the Sun (now called New Grange) in Ireland, to Chaco Canyon in New Mexico, plus countless sites in the ancient pre-classical world of the Mediterranean, South America, and Egypt. In truth, the list of such celebratory places is global.

The Roman feast of Saturnalia was held on December seventeenth. Romans also observed a festival later in the month to honor the solstice. Saxons had a similar December celebration dedicated to Thor, god of thunder.

My Celtic forbearers referred to this period of the year as “an dudlach,” or “the gloom.” Their New Year and the season they called Wintertide, began November 1st, with the festival of Samhain, and continued until Imbolc, which began on the first day of February. In the middle was a period when sacrifices and offerings were made to the “Cailleach” or “Old Woman” who ruled over the winter season.

Celts saw this mid-December span as encompassing two divisions—the pre-solstice one being “Dumannios,” or the “Darkest Depths,” and “Riuros,” the “Cold Time,” which followed the solstice. As part of this winter ceremonial activity, long-dead ancestors were appeased, and divination practiced. There was much storytelling around the hearthfire.

Because of all the shortened days pre- and post-solstice, December has the dubious honor of being the darkest month of the entire year. Daily daylight lengths barely make it beyond the nine-hour mark. By contrast, June’s days average well over fifteen hours.

A friend who works long hours inside a sprawling business complex says she loves the holidays and hoopla, and doesn’t really mind the cold weather, but still dreads December because “I never see the sun except on my days off.”

I expect this lack of sunlight can’t make it a good month for those folks prone to seasonal affective disorders—SAD—though I don’t recall hearing much complaining until later on, more into midwinter’s depths. Perhaps symptoms don’t kick in with their full vengeance until a certain deficit level of daylight deprivation has been reached. Or maybe it’s because the days between Thanksgiving and New Year are so hectic and busy, that many SAD sufferers are simply too harried to accede to their condition.

Personally, Irish heritage notwithstanding, I’ve never had a problem or much negative awareness regarding December’s darkness. In fact, I’ve always visualized December as a month filled with bright and sparkling light—the exact opposite of dreary.

I truly love this time of the year—the ancient quiet of a snowy woods, the delicate aeolian harp moan of wind coursing over a pine-clad hill. I find the shape and texture of December’s fundamental landscapes extraordinary, soothing, and occasionally mystical.

Perhaps this clearly subjective viewpoint is partly due to the amount of time I’ve always spent outside during December—hiking, camping, picture taking, hunting, even fishing.

Yes, indeed—on numerous occasions, I’ve gone fishing in December…in Ohio! Not ice fishing, mind you, but wading or walking the banks and working those still-open waters of our nearby lakes and streams. And believe it or not, on most of those early-winter (well, technically still autumn) outings, I’ve caught fish!

Honestly, December has a wealth of natural treasures and outdoor activities to indulge in, explore, and enjoy.

However, maybe it’s just me, but it always seems like once Thanksgiving has passed and this festive twelfth month takes over, December’s 31 days seem to hurtle along like my old Flexible Flyer sled heading down a steep and icy hill!

In fact, I can hardly believe December is already a week old! Before you know it, Christmas will have come and gone, the month will end, and a brand new year will begin.

Have faith! The solstice will pass, the pendulum reverses, and soon the sun begins heading back our way—delivering a burgeoning allotment of precious daylight plus the promise of brighter tomorrows.

We’ll then be off and running on another circular journey.

Reach Jim McGuire at [email protected].