It’s that time again. Time to delve into the dark, when only a few brief hours of daylight separate sunrise from sunset, and many of those are overcast. That’s right — it’s time to turn the clocks back. Oof.

Maybe it’s because I’m a morning person, the light of day makes me feel ready to get up and at it. In May and June, when the sun rises earliest, I’m awake with the birds. Everything seems possible on such light-filled early mornings. And then there’s the luxury of lingering on the deck as the sun hangs in the sky until well after 8 p.m., the dusk lasting until 9 or so.

Already the sun is down before 6 now, and not up again until 7 the next morning. And in between, it’s getting … cold. The autumn time change also presages snow, the weatherman’s four-letter word (yes, I know that “rain” also has four letters, but you get the point).

Looking out the window of my home office now, the sky is clear and blue, the yellow leaves of the tallest tree blow in the wind. And the wind hasn’t yet acquired the bite of winter, but I know by the turtlenecks and flannel pajamas in my bureau drawers that it’s coming.

Every year, the transition from light to dark evokes resistance, melancholy, a feeling of “Oh, not yet!” In a way, that’s how getting old is, too. I look in the mirror and wonder how I became that wrinkled woman with the granny chin. Or I walk downstairs and wince as I shift my weight from one knee to the other. And somehow, this time of year brings my age to my attention, maybe because my eyes don’t adjust as well as they used to when driving in the dark, or because I worry more than before about falling on ice.

Still, as the saying goes, getting old beats the alternative. And so does facing another winter. That “alternative,” death, is evoked by the loss of daylight and the coming of cold. It’s no accident that Halloween, our one remaining cultural acknowledgement of death, falls as the sun’s light and warmth are ebbing from the world. One way or another, we must reckon with this seasonal reminder of mortality in order to make it to another spring. Finding a few silver linings helps me embrace a reality I can’t avoid.

The cold season does have its compensations: staring into the woodstove at the fire. Getting out the wool sweaters. The silent falling of snow as the day begins. Beef stew in the crockpot. The holidays. Hot tea on a cold morning. Snowshoeing with dogs.

And that leads me to the best thing of all: the joy of dogs in the snow. I don’t think I’ve met a dog who didn’t love snow — running around in it, rolling in it, eating it. Dogs seem to enjoy everything about snow, and doing anything in snow, and their enjoyment is contagious.

All that said, I admit that if I could afford it and could get Maureen to move, I’d live somewhere warmer, not just in the winter but all year. But that’s not the life I have, and the life I do have is pretty great. So, come on, winter. Spring is only five months away!

Don’t forget to turn your clocks back an hour Saturday night, Nov. 6.

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