This morning started out in a gorgeous haze of steel grey fog, blending in with a pale blue sky and blurring the world in smoke-veiled forms. Still lit street lamps glowed like orange orbs, the shafts of light they throw being swallowed by the surrounding smoky fuzz. The best sights were across large expanses of vacant land, like the parking lot and school playground. In the parking lot, double globes of perfectly spherical radiance rhythmically rose through thick white misty clouds on tall black metal stems. Bare tree branches peeked through the fog every here and there, seemingly floating, trunk-less.
This afternoon is yet another exercise in beauty. Soft yellow sun has dispelled the morning's brooding fog. It's a warm, ponderous atmosphere of lazy sunlight and people and cars waking up to newly frenzied activity from this morning's dullness.
In the midst of all the crowds, the people, everyone's battling their own struggles - you are made privy to challenges your friends, the faces in the crowds, the driver driving your shuttle that morning, are contending with. The serene and already thoughtful afternoon is now laced with deeper meditations into the way the tides turn, the manner in which life rolls. From your deep musing comes the one thought, again and again, that the people you value in your life may never have to go through such ebbs. That the sun comes out after the fog for everyone.
So, turns out if you follow a regulated, disciplined, morning-lark lifestlye, DST's end in March can be brutal to adjust to, absolutely brutal.
The late-night owl 'sleeping late but waking up early to rush to work anyway' sort of schedule lets you adapt to the end of DST far easier.
