November 18, 2011, taken on my way home from work
With the time change, comes the darkness. No, not the deepening gloom of winter. I refer to the deepening gloom that envelops my soul as the days shorten and I lose time to hike and time at the keyboard. (Because the cabin is so cold in winter, I can only sit here for short periods. After ten or fifteen minutes, my hands are so cold they become too stiff to type.) Thus, as we inch toward the solstice, I find myself unable to do two of those activities which keep me (relatively) sane. Oof.
I’m hoping things will be a bit different this year. A few months back, I bought a custom-made, solid oak drafting table and set it up (with the help of The Grandson) about ten feet away from the furnace. Last weekend, when we had snow, I put it to the test—working on the dog book for some time, writing out page after page in longhand, which I don’t mind doing. My writer-friend Lola DeMaci tells me that this is the better method, anyway. I’m a fast typist; I’ll do the transcribing when I finish the section (which, by the way, is the final section of the book).
That still doesn’t solve my problem of having to curtail long walks in the forest. By the time I get home, it’s 4:00 or past, and it’s dark here now by 4:30, so unless I walk all the way ‘round with a flashlight, I won’t be able to walk The Loop except on weekends… which means I might just pack back on that six pounds I shed this summer.
See? It’s depressing. To say nothing of Christmas coming on and no one to share it with. Well, except my own little Sugar Plum.
OK, I promise my next post will be a bit more uplifting. We’re only 24 days from the solstice… and then the light will slowly return….