Daylight Savings Time ends and suddenly it’s dark very early in the evening. This always comes as a shock, even though we know it’s coming. Our bodies take a week or so to adjust. But the upside to a morning person like me is that the sun comes up earlier, as well. That means I’m able to catch some beautiful sunrises right before breakfast.
The delightfully colorful fall foliage doesn’t last long here in northern Vermont – a few weeks at best. A couple days of strong winds and the leaves start raining down, exposing naked branches. The trees will stay naked for the next six months. That’s a sober thought.
A hard frost struck a few days ago, a little later than usual. Now the mums I planted in my front yard are dying back, as is all other vegetation. The growing season is over for the year.
I’m scrambling to winterize both house and yard. Took in the garden hoses yesterday, along with the patio furniture. Will seal up the windows and put up driveway markers for the snowplow guy. Yeah, the white stuff will appear very soon.
I’ll be wearing blaze orange during my next hike. Deer hunters will be all over the woods in a week or so. Meanwhile others are getting ready for the holidays. For some people, Christmas is the best time of year. That’s only seven weeks away.
There are still a few relatively warm days left, when a flannel shirt, a sweater or a light jacket is all one needs to be comfortable outdoors. I cherish these bittersweet days as most nature-lovers do. I like kicking up leaves while walking through the woods this time of year. There will be plenty of time to enjoy indoor light and warmth during the frigid months ahead. No need to rush into that.
It’s no big deal, really. In late autumn we all set our clocks back an hour, back to standard time, thus eliminating daylight saving time. It’s just a social convention that we all acknowledge, or so we tell ourselves. But one look out the window late in the afternoon tells us otherwise. Time change leaves its mark on us – especially on those of us sensitive to the slightest changes of light.
It’s November now, and the length of day here in northern Vermont has just slipped under ten hours. The time change drives this home, leaving us in the dark all evening before going to bed. It’s now dark before I quit working for the day. After the long days of summer, I find this a tough adjustment to make.
It’s November now, and most of the leaves have fallen from the trees. Even though this has been an unseasonably warm autumn, we all know what’s coming. I keep reminding myself that I have to get the snow tires on my car soon, real soon.
While the hunters are still tramping around the woods, I’ve called it quits for the most part. Oh sure, I hike or snowshoe during the colder months, but not with the same vigor that I do during the warmer ones. This is the time of year when I do more writing than hiking. Everything in its season, I suppose.
Still it feels like the sun is setting on the growing season, on the season of lush vegetation. The barefoot days are long gone, and nature’s fecundity is giving way to its dormancy. That’s hard on a guy like me who’s constantly cultivating the wildness within. Now that wildness feels somewhat abstract. I’m spending an inordinate amount of time indoors, looking out windows. And the green world is slowly fading to brown. The heat and sweat of summer is but a memory.
Backcountry traveler, freelance writer, and philosopher of wildness, McLaughlin has ventured into the wilds of Southeast Alaska and New York’s Adirondacks as well as the forests of northern New England. More about Walt.
