70 Degrees of Daylight Savings Time in November

I’m not sure if it was 3 a.m., 4, or 5, given the reach of idiotic daylight savings time. Want to have more daylight? Get up earlier. (But not so early as to infest my beloved early morning treks across our shared urban landscape, please.) Daylight savings is proof beyond reproach that we can collectively tolerate some of the most outlandish and ridiculous impositions.

It was 70+ degrees this morning, another bit of lunacy to match the time change debacle we all are experiencing. The wind was howling and the moon was huge in the early morning sky. I parked at an old, vacant church and walked roads I had never walked upon. Since the roads were all mine at that hour, I walked down the middle of the highway, the wind whipping me. At the low point of one of the valleys, the wind carried the glasses from the perch atop my head. I was wearing shorts and briefly considered walking shirtless, the idea of such a thing in November making me chuckle.

At a considerable distance from my car, two dogs confined by a fence howled and jumped into the air to express their disdain at my presence. Against my better judgment, I approached and spoke to them in a low voice, putting my right hand across the barrier of the fence. Being left-handed, I decided I could afford to feed my right one to them, if necessary, in the pursuit of comforting a canine or two. It turned out that the only danger from those two howlers was one of being licked to death. I think I could have stayed in that spot and petted them both until noon, given the enthusiasm and whimpering they repaid me for petting them. As I left them behind, they ran around in circles, happy, barking at the night. It was my hope that the owners were in bed, listening and wondering what nonsense their dogs had begun.

Toward the end of long arc away from where I parked, one large house caught my attention. It was a 2-story house, or 3, depending on whether the owners considered the top to be for storage of disliked in-laws or their hoarded possessions. Its yard was massive, suitable for riding horses or playing a full game of soccer. Every light in the house was on. Most of the windows were large and beautifully inset. Given that I had quite a long view of the house, I watched it with interest to see if anyone would pass in front of the windows. No one did. Except for the entire structure being internally lit, there was no sign of life or movement. As creative as I consider myself to be, I couldn’t devise any reasonable explanation for it.

Returning, I noted an ambulance parked about 50 feet from my car, the doors open wide, and a stretcher sitting parallel to the ambulance. At first, I couldn’t tell if anyone was on the stretcher. It was an unusual sight in the Sunday morning dark. I watched for a minute to catch any movement. None materialized.

Across the intersection, the bright moon hung high above, illuminating the cemetery at the crossroads. Above, the spires and wires of a 6-line high voltage tower marched across the landscape. I walked across the intersection before leaving, leaning against the fence facing the cemetery. I bid the silent occupants a good morning as I turned and departed, leaving their stones to have their daily exchange with the moon as it looked down upon them.

Off I went, to take advantage of this mysterious hour the powers that be insisted that I agree to accept, even as none of the clocks surrounding me could reach an agreement on what time it actually was.


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