2 days a year, the Earth from pole to pole receives an equal distribution of light and

dark day and night.

The equinox is always around this time of year, spring for those above the equator, autumn

for those below.

No matter where you live, for one quiet moment in time, on the day's way to becoming longer

in the night's path to shorter, they meet in the middle, gracefully passing through,

12 hours each.

The solstice in June and December tend to turn our heads more dramatically.

The extremes always do, but it's the equinox I'm growing more and more fond of, the day

that marks this middleing time.

They're always in a middle, at an end, and a beginning.

And so it's good to have a way to mark them all.

This moment, the one that is both not quite, and almost, on the way, but not there yet.

The moment itself is marked by what they call the celestial equator, which is a scientific

way of saying, use your imagination.

It's a line, an imaginary one, that follows the equator, but instead of a pretend line

on the earth, it's one that's in the sky.

This matters because only two days a year does the sun cross the line, once on its way

north, and once on its way south.

Only two days a year can we perform what let's call a childhood experiment.

Step one, grab a stick or a ruler.

Step two, look up the latitude of your location.

...