"HAPPINESS," as someone said, "is never experienced, only remembered." Thus it is that the term "halcyon days" is often used to recall a happy care-free time, a period long since gone of youth, prosperity and peace. The original halcyon days, however, were specific, and were related to the weather but let me start at the beginning.
Once upon a time, there was a king of Thessaly in Greece called Ceyx, who married Halcyone, daughter of Aeolus, who was god of winds. Ceyx was obliged to undertake a voyage, and all the while he was away, the lonely Halcyone offered incense daily to the gods, praying for the safe return of her beloved. But Ceyx was shipwrecked, and he and all his crew were lost at sea.
Halcyone had foreboding of the tragedy. She wandered to the sea-shore and sought the very spot where she had last seen Ceyx, and presently the waves bore towards her the body of her dear departed husband. Utterly distraught, poor Halcyone threw herself upon the water, whereupon she was changed forthwith into a shrill unhappy bird from whose throat poured forth forever sounds of grief - for all the world like the voice of one lamenting.
But the gods had pity, and restored to life, was likewise changed into a bird, and the reunited pair flew off together.
The bird, the legend has it, into which the unfortunate Halcyone was transformed was the halcyon, a species of kingfisher common near the Mediterranean, which builds its nest to float upon the water. Its broody period, according to the story, coincides with a spell of sunny, mild and nearly windless weather which the ancient Greeks had noticed frequently occurred in mid-winter, often in the days before the winter solstice. Today, December 11th, marked the beginning of these original "halcyon days", a brief meteorological interlude of quiet in a turbulent world.
Ovid, in his Metamorphosis, provides the explanation: "The love of Ceyx and Halcyone was unchanged, and their marriage covenant was not dissolved, when they acquired their wings. They still mate and have their young, and for seven calm days in wintertime, Halcyone broods upon her nest. Then the waves of the sea lie still; Aeolus keeps guard over the winds, and so provides a smooth surface for his grandchildren."
These halcyon days, however, like our own, do not last along. As Virgil puts it, describing the return of winter, and the rising wind:
The flimsy gossamer now flits no more, Nor halcyons bask on the short, sunny shore.