I dislike Daylight Savings Time, for the usual reasons of course. Not least that driving home after work in the dark is stupid. I also dislike the fundamental desperate failure of the term. The sun sets on its day and no man will ever change nor save the time that has sped.

But, coming home in the dark isn’t all bad. You see, I like the dark. And I love the bare trees in twilight reaching heavenwards above the still silence of the water. Beneath the great oak the pond is a bottomless mirror of the sky. That oak, that pool. they are there in the daylight; but somehow the twilight of fall brings them closer. In the spring and the summer, the promise of now: the leaf, the flower, the growth for the year, these obscure the bones of the trees, the earth, the water. Those bones change, even within our memory*, but they nonetheless stand apart from man’s understanding of time. There are trees here which were full grown when my grandparents were born, and my grandparents are dead in the fullness of their years.

In November, the age of the trees, the earth, the water is unveiled.

*consider the oak that closed the road in the post of a few days ago.