I took some pictures as the sun sank low, the day before we turned the clocks back.
As Autumn wears on, the sun drops before we are ready. We aren't waiting for it.
We fumble with the dark keyhole when we arrive home with the children in the afternoon.
We go into the house, lighting lamps, turning on the front porch light, trying to create a spot of glow and welcome in the dark street.
In the kitchen, we bustle about, making warmth and cheer to welcome our husbands home.
We cluster there together, the fireplace flickering nearby, more than ever needing this time with one another at the end of the day.
There seems to be a big difference between these long golden sunsets of summer, which are like a pageant unfolding before our eyes, and the later, quick sunsets of winter, with the sky all lavender and chilly.
Soon, the greens, golds, oranges and reds will be replaced by browns, grays, blacks, and tans.
The rosehips will shrivel and dry, a few of them clinging to the stems even in the snow.
Bright color is gone, but it has left texture behind to interest and comfort us.