Hello, darkness at five.
Daylight savings (fall back) is the moment in the liturgical year* when we celebrate the world's sinking into the dark. I find there's something poetic about it--I'm grateful for the little measure of extra early light when I'm trying to get up in the morning, but soon that last little bit of light will dissipate and then both morning and evening will be aswim in dusk.
We took Bruiser and Betty to the dog park as the sun left rosy streaks as it fell. The late hours of the afternoon are now set as rarin'-to-go time for the dogs. Betty comes to the door with a ball in her mouth to greet the historian, and Bruiser doesn't have enough body to contain all his energy. Yesterday we met at the park, as I was coming from school. On the way, I was listening to Illinoise, which, by the way, is full evidence that Sufjan Stevens is the true Whitmanian inheritor. The music, and particularly "Casimir Pulaski Day," is suffused in melancholy and beauty. Beautiful song, beautiful dogs, beautiful sunset, beautiful historian.
So why do I feel just a little sad?
*As of this moment, I have decided to become my own religion.