I could almost hear the earth breathing around me as colour drained from my surroundings. But I stumbled upon a patch of bluebells in the dying light... a totally delightful sight. Their otherworldly purple still popped in the dusk. I walked through fields and woodland and did not see another human being or a single car in the lanes.
I have been feeling an intense longing to immerse myself in nightfall. A wonderful article in Emergence Magazine gave me the push I needed to stride out alone at a time most people retreat to the light and comfort of their homes, busying themselves with evening routines.
When you move to a new country the names for all the plants and animals you learned from childhood are suddenly obsolete. You see anonymous strangers all around. But somehow last night I sensed a familiarity all around me as the air became moist and quiet at dusk. My eyes became drawn to small things in the murk... even little details became significant in the dying light.
‘I only went out for a walk and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out,
I found, was really going in.’ - John Muir