Tonight when we decided that no more people were coming to our open studio I headed out for a dog walk with two friends. We looped down the hill and around the pond in the chill air as the moon shone out against the trees standing dark against the sky. We may momentarily lose track of the words to describe our many years of friendship, but still retain an appreciation of being together once again. It was dark as we got back to the warm house. The dog was excited because she knew dinner was imminent. Warren and I have a running disagreement about these early December evenings. Can we call them winter or do they stay autumn until after the solstice?
The trees stand stark against the sky. It is fall, or autumn: sometimes she loses track of which word belongs where. Small matter, it is that time of year when the dark descends early.
– Colum McCann, from “Treaty,” in Thirteen Ways of Looking: A Novella and Three Stories (Random House, 2016)