What do you REALLY See in the Dark?

We’ve all been informed of the virtues of being an early bird.  But who wants worms, anyway?  Although there are plenty of other reasons to drag your warm and sleepy self from under the cozy blankets and out into the shocking fresh air, here is one you may not have considered:  Maybe you’ll see something really cool!

I like to get out for excursions in the pre-dawn darkness to see what else is out there.  Of course there are always a couple of other humans on the trails, but heck - I can see them all day long.  I really enjoy hearing the howling of the coyote party deep in the woods or the silence of the hungry owl swooping down upon its furry breakfast.

With winter darkness come the best discoveries of all.   Recently my running partner, Carol, and I have come upon an elusive creature: The giant, lumbering tentacled beast that I call Buelah.  From far off I can see her lumbering up the trail in the pitch blackness with her two huge glowing eyes rhythmically bouncing with the stride of her enormous padded feet.  Swinging around her are trunk-like tentacles that glow almost as brightly has her eyes and seem to sniff at the trail and bushes for delicious treats.  There are two of these curious appendages on the front of her massive furry body, and two more on her back that I have yet to see.

A re-creation of what we see coming
at us from afar.

Buelah clearly lives near this trail because we see her at about the same spot each day just before daybreak.  She is returning to her lair from a long night of feasting and carousing with her friends.  She will soon be snoring in comfort with her family, somewhere deep in the brush, while we humans bustle about with our daytime civilized activities.

Why haven’t you seen or heard of her before?  Because Buelah is a shape-shifter. In order to really see her you must stay back and open your mind to her grand beauty.  If you're not on your toes, you can easily miss Beulah.  My running partner didn't even notice her until our second or third encounter on the trail, but now she appreciates what she sees.

Each morning I stop Carol and exclaim, “There she is!” and we pause to admire her from a distance for a moment.  Once we get too close (and this happens to us every time we approach her) she cleverly disguises herself as two early-morning walkers with headlamps strapped to their foreheads while each carries a flashlight in one swinging hand.  It’s the perfect camouflage for such a large creature like Beulah, who can’t simply hide behind a bush or douse the light coming from her glorious, bright eyes.  This gentle beast knows that to live in peace with humans it is vital to conceal her true form.

When we pass a reach a safe distance away, Buelah becomes a single furry mass once again and continues the trek to her cozy den.  And we feel lucky not only to have seen her, but that we are fortunate enough appreciate her beauty.  Next time you are out in the dark, open your mind to see what is really out there.  Your imagination might surprise you.

Sketch of what I see with my mind's eye as we approach Buelah, just before she disguises her true form in the darkness.

Fog

As a child I was aware of foggy days before I even opened my eyes.  I would waken to the slow rhythm of the foghorn at the lighthouse down the beach.  Gazing sleepily out of my curtain-less window I could see nothing, the white cottony haze obscuring the boats, birds, islands and even the water itself from my view.

These days I live out of hearing range of the monotone marine honking and must rely on the the radio weather report or my plain old eyes to identify a foggy day.  

On this damp morning I embarked on my early run into the dark and was surrounded by soft puffs of light coming from streetlamps and the occasional car headlights.  The fog seemed to muffle the sharp sounds of life, bringing silence, until I reached the forest.  As I drew closer it sounded as if I was approaching a rain forest during a heavy shower.  In fact this was a shower, from the trees above – the cottonwood leaves drooping and dripping with heavy condensation deposited there by the slow moving clouds of fog, soaking the undergrowth and decaying leaves on the forest floor.



tangle-webs in the heather

My favorite element of the autumn fog is how it illuminates the countless spider webs – and not just the elegant orbs of the garden spider, but the tangle-weave webs hidden in the crannies of the neighborhood shrubbery.  These poor stealthy spiders that rely on their invisibility for survival are suddenly exposed for the world to see.  Good news for them is that we humans are less likely to accidentally walk into their fancy architecture and run off screaming and swatting at their sticky webbing plastered to our faces.  We are more likely to stop and admire their intricate artistry.

Although fog is known for decreasing visibility and blocking our view, I’ve learned to appreciate the damp, ground hugging cloud for the little things it brings to our eyes and ears.