Running out of light

With the sun disappearing at 4:30 in the afternoon, it has been two weeks or so since I have taken the dog to the park. Usually the day has fled by the time the Resident Fan Boy gets home from work and I've been choosing shorter walks around the block in the dark.  This afternoon, I set off at before twilight. I see stepladders. Many lights have gone up today; ours went up Friday. The Resident Fan Boy managed to blow a breaker with a rogue coloured light, then, panicking, cut the power to the computer, so I lost what I was working on. I was livid, of course, but better to discover a weak breaker now, I guess…

Along the Rideau River, I'm startled by the unobstructed view. I don't know why I should be so surprised; it's an annual thing, after all, but the last time I was here, there were still quite a few leaves.

The light is going fast. Looking back at the houses, I can see what appears to be this year's fashion in house decoration -- large stars dominating the side of a house, or taking up an entire picture window. The bike path is gone, buried until March or even April. I pick my way along where the dirt path by the river bank is now tightly packed snow, beaten down by the feet of other dog-walkers, urban hikers, and determined joggers. It's knobby and knurled; slick and shiny. I walk in the snow at the edges of the path, which staggers my gait, but provides a more reasonable foothold.

The Accent Snob is now pulling at the lead, a bit nerve-wracking where there are patches of ice, and it's harder to lock the retractable lease in heavy mittens, but he's right. Time to go home. It's dark, and elder daughter came home for Christmas today.