No Qualms

A drought can’t end overnight. Even though the autumn rains eventually arrived, record lows in lakes and reservoirs are slow to rise and recover. On the upside, following the banks is no challenge now, picking along where I like, well clear of the brush. Long walks with no strangers spotted, all the way in and all the way out. I find the near-total loneliness of November exceptionally easy to love. The tonal shift to softened shades of grey is both welcoming and menacing. I find it friendly in the sense that I’ve got no qualms with my company, so I never have to worry about talking too much or thinking out loud. I’ve been holding on to that most welcoming sensation, of what only happens to the human mind left alone. You become more finely tuned to input, from any possible source that’s not your own species. Think of it — how many of us rarely think things that didn’t come from another human? Today, wind in the trees is the dominant sound, and that hissing way it seems to ripple waves on Grand Lake. It makes my humanity seem more significant, because I’m existing with no competition.

November 6, 2025
Graywood, Nova Scotia

Year 18, Day 6570 of my daily journal.