It’s dark when I wake up in the morning, making it more of a challenge to get moving. Morning runs are non-existent at this point but I keep telling myself I’ll get up tomorrow and go for a short one. It hasn’t happened yet; it’s unlikely to happen until I make plans with someone else but that hasn’t happened either.
It’s dusk when I leave work, the sun ready to set. If I make dinner plans with a friend I try to meet them right after work, if I come home first the odds of going back out are slim. My warm house, yoga pants and sweater work against me. I’ll meet Lenore to spin on Tuesday nights where we’re done by 6:30 but we’ve been working out during lunch. I want to be home at night.
Summer nights my neighbors and I would be out in our yards watering, weeding, pruning; we’d chat for a bit, admire each other’s flowers, swap cucumbers and squash for peppers and tomatoes. Their dog, Phoebe, would bark hello, come over to the fence or into my yard and roll on her back for a belly rub. The young couple, who live in the house on the other side of me, usually sit on their front porch with their baby girl or stroll with her up and down the street. I haven’t seen either family in days. It’s quiet on the street as if the neighborhood is wrapped up tight, keeping warm.
Weekends are different. Leaves are still being raked and bagged or blown into a pile on the curb, lawns cut one more time, deck furniture carried into the basement or garage. Noises from neighboring streets drift through the air, settle in my back yard.
Tonight after work I put gas in the car, bought candy for Halloween, picked up a veggie burrito bowl and came home. It wasn’t even 7:00 but night had arrived. I turned my porch light on to ward off any mischief that might take place in the dark and ate my dinner. I’ve got a few things to do still but it’s quiet and peaceful; I’ve lit a few candles. It’s Fall and I’m in hibernation mode.