The older one gets, the more familiar the strange becomes, and the stranger the familiar becomes. I suppose this is the result of the accumulation of experience. The more you have seen, the more likely it becomes that something new will remind you of something from the past. And, as the strange becomes more familiar, it encroaches on your memory, subtly altering it. In a way, life is like walking through a muddy field, with more of the soil sticking to your feet with each step. It becomes increasingly difficult to lift your feet, because they carry so much of the past. You find yourself hoping for a flood, just so you can wash away some of that mass which has built up, just so you can make your way to some new place.
The early darkness means no more evening walks until spring. Instead, I will go out in the afternoon, and in the evenings I will stay in the house listening to music, reading, and drinking tea. Tonight the tea is especially good, because a drizzle has begun, and I can listen to the rain dripping from the leaves outside my window. Hot tea and the sound of rain just go very well together.