The Brown God Is Almost Forgotten

The seasons have gone much the same way as the river, T.S. Eliot's strong brown god: they are now

... only a problem confronting the builder of bridges.
The problem once solved, the brown god is almost forgotten
By the dwellers in cities - ever, however, implacable,
Keeping his seasons and rages, destroyer, reminder
Of what men choose to forget. Unhonoured, unpropitiated
By worshippers of the machine, but waiting, watching and waiting.

The Dry Salvages

 

 

The combination of the clock and electricity have really led us to ignore the seasons. The clock gives us a fixed time, independent of the sun, and makes us come home when it is pitch dark in winter, and mid-afternoon in summer. Electric lighting enables us to forget that the sun has even gone down; and by living in climate-controlled buildings, and driving everywhere, we forget that it is cold in winter and warm in summer.

 

I think we lose something in the process. The changing of the seasons is one of the wonders of nature, and it is worth getting off the iPad to pay attention to it. Moreover, dealing with the weather is part of what we are as animals, and we should respect what we are. We are not only brains connected by the Internet; we are also cold and warm, and hungry, and horny.