More night than day

By Theresa Smith

The time changed this week. Fall back. Now it is getting dark while still afternoon. More dark than light. More night than day.

The colors are intense out my window. Looking down on the valley, I see yellow, gold, many warm shades of orange, red and rust. Most from the native willows, wild plum and dogwoods. Rosehips, snowberry and hawthorn.

On my walk in the woods today, I see red berries, flecks of tiny colored lines on the path. Gold, rust, crimson, and umber. These are fir needles blown off the tree in last night’s wind.

I am heading down the path into the misty darkness. In the dim morning light, the colors are rich and dark. I look up through the tree limbs and there is a teasing of light. Hope for illumination and transformation. Growth and evolution. Sunshine perhaps- although fleeting.

Chocolate brown puddles, earthy, moldery fecund aromas. Droplets of rain. Squishy mud. Birds waking up as the sun rises and the tide comes in.

On these days of more dark than light, there is more time to reflect and to soak in all the things learned, felt and experienced throughout the year. All the things I could not soak in during the busy months when the sun wouldn’t stop shining. When I was too busy and would not stop to rest.

Thank goodness for the long nights and the short days. Thank goodness for the dark as it slides in, so I can catch up on my soaking – in.