Losing the light

At first I thought I would need to do a repeat of yesterday’s foggy post, as this morning was every bit as densely fogged as yesterday. But as I was leaving the mountain, the fog was leaving, too. So I find I am not nearly as fogged in now as I was just an hour or so ago. Of course, that didn’t help while I was walking or rather stumbling through the woods in the pre-dawn, fog.

I don’t enjoy the foggy walks nearly as much as those when I can see into and through the forest. I am such a visual creature that walks where I can’t see very much aren’t nearly as enjoyable. I’ve never understood people who backpack at night either, though I’ve known many who do just that. For me, walking is a way to see things in the forest and to stop and investigate what I see. When I am not able to do that, the physical act of walking seems to lose much of its purpose.

Oh, I often enjoy listening to the sounds of the forest, but in the pre-dawn fog there’s precious few of them, and certainly not enough to make up for the lack of sights. As the solstice approaches, I find I am looking forward to longer days again. As November waned into December, some days I felt that my life closed in too. Every day brought a minute or so less daylight, a minute or so less to see or even to easily perform evening chores.

Weekends are the only time I can see the sun, but those days have not been sunny, which makes the dark seem more extensive than it really is. So I look forward to the return of the light and can understand why people celebrated solstice with such enthusiasm. I may well celebrate it, too.