BETTER TO LIGHT ONE SMALL CANDLE
It’s not exactly light when we leave the house in the mornings now, but it’s definitely dark when I’m coming home. After a month of sunny autumn beauty, fall is sliding into winter in real-time. When the skies are clear at night, they look like black, black velvet, diamond-studded and pure, another world high overhead. When they’re overcast, the darkness is impenetrable; coming down around on all sides, a blanket fort. A grey heron flies across the road, his kink-necked, sword-billed head ridiculously far from his feet. The trees have dropped their summer pants, they look silly and half-dressed. The...