Today we lost an hour of evening daylight and gained an hour of morning daylight. This happens every year, and it always feels nonsensical to me. It is like cutting off one end of an apron and sewing it on the other. Furthermore, I don’t get up early enough to enjoy the extra hour of sunlight.

This is the toughest time of year for me. Here it is, 6:00 p.m. or thereabouts. Outside it is now dark. I had to hurry in getting all the animals exercised, and I still did not get Hrimfara out for a walk. By the time Pete and I finished our late in the afternoon ride (me riding Tyra and Pete riding Raudi), the sun had just about set.

Shadow rides Tinni

Worse yet, here I am, now faced with the prospect of having to do things inside, before going to bed, for the next five hours. I am already longing for the time in which the sun sets at 11:30 p.m., with me out until 11 p.m. The feeling of being surrounded by darkness at such an early hour is akin to claustrophobia. There is no escaping the altogether too early descent of night.

To add to this – it’s November 1. It will continue to get darker until December 21 which is 50 days away. Yeech.

The best I can do is take advantage of the limited daylight hours, which is what I did today. Fortunately, the low lying sun was shining brightly, as it has for the past few days. The shadows are long, and the light less direct. I must admit, it is a time of year that is breathtaking beautiful.

I did take the dogs and Tinni out for a walk on the trails. And the single digit temperatures did seem to invigorate them all. It brought me great joy, watching the dogs race around and chase one another. And I was quite glad to see that Tinni, who again has solid poop, was so chipper.

Shadow rode Tinni most of the way from our place to the trailhead and then from the trailhead back to our place. She sometimes stood, and sometimes laid on his back, making herself comfortable on his saddle pad. A truck passed on the road behind us, kept going, and then backed up. Someone, I think, was really enjoying the dog and pony show.

I walked Tinni (with Shadow still on his back) back uphill, through the cabin gate, and into the yard. I then had the pony stop next to the picnic table. She hopped off and then hopped back on Tinni. He did not move. This must mean they both like this activity.

If it was summer, a time of ample daylight, I would have taken the pair on another walk. But it being winter, a time of limited daylight, I called it quits.

Pete’s making pizza for dinner. After, I will resume work on my bicycling essay and then continue to read John Krakauer’s Missoula. I suppose that by keeping myself occupied, that I’ll feel less claustrophobic.

Next: 303. 10/2/20: The Day Before the Election