The extra hour

The clocks go back tonight. At two in the morning it's suddenly one again, and for one hour everybody on earth gets a small gift they didn't ask for.

I think about what I'd do with it. The answer, as always, is nothing exciting. I'd sleep. I'd probably wake up at my usual time anyway, because my body has never once believed a clock, and then I'd have an extra hour in the morning with coffee and nowhere to be. I've decided that's what it's for.

The thing I don't love is the other end of it. Dark before six. Folks around here treat that as an insult. We moved to a place with long evenings and now somebody has sawed one off. I get it. But I've also noticed that the early dark does something good for the porch. The light goes pink and low, the neighbors turn on their lamps, and everything feels a little closer together.

Short days make you pay attention to the ones you've got. That's my theory, anyway, and I'm sticking with it until March.

Set your clocks back. Take the hour. Don't spend it on anything important.