Within the Realm

If there’s anything my life is bound to be about, it’s got to be loving the light — and when less of it remains, there’s more for me to love. Every day has broken dimly lately. I wake up wondering if dawn has passed, but the clock confirms it’s history. Rainclouds settle in with no breaks, so I get to wander on the endless edge of twilight, all the way down to dusk. The woods is drenched in a drift of heavy mist, bringing out everything glistening, fresh varnish on a dry and thirsty painting. The forest is a canvas that I can’t cover under my own power, waiting on nature to send beauty in my path to capture. Maybe I’m the one who’s trapped here, claimed and retained like some slave to a world I can’t control. Seems fitting walking somewhere that only lived within the realm of rails. North Mountain Railway ran where I stand from 1913 to 1961, and still shows underfoot despite a long absence. Like a train without a track, I’m always after something specific to follow.

November 16, 2025
Woodville, Nova Scotia

Year 19, Day 6580 of my daily journal.