Darkness falls and the fires are lit

I am sure that when I lived in a city winter was never this dark!  The clocks went back this weekend and suddenly the glorious extended autumn hit the buffers.  I looked out of the window at half past five, the lights having been on in the house for ages, and saw the black night.  Partly it is the totally welcome absence of light pollution here.  Stand in just the right place on our land and you can see the faint amber smudge of light which is Mold to the East but turn your back on that and the valley is very black.  You can't see the line of the ridge opposite or of the ancient hillforts to the west against the sky.  Look up and on a clear night you can see stars, but wander around and it is can't-see-the-hand-in-front-of your-face dark on nights when the moon is, as tonight, a waxing crescent.  It is close to total darkness.

We go out to the pub for a meal, driving our narrow lanes between the high hedges.  In the headlights the browns and golds of the last of the bracken shine out at the edge of the road.  Where beech trees line the lanes the leaves pile up in russet drifts.  It is easier to drive these lanes in darkness. Oncoming headlights alert you well in time for you to find the place to tuck in by the hedge to let the other vehicle come by.  We round a corner and see the remains of a badger, caught unawares crossing the road.  It feels as if we have dropped into another world.  It is magical, light and dark in high relief, hedgerows illuminated and blackness beyond.  I know it all familiar farmland in daylight but driving tonight it does not feel familiar at all.

Fire is what you need in winter and darkness.  Back home we light the stove.  Fire and warmth make winter a pleasure.  I am a spring and summer person really, but tonight I am happy with the dark.