We’re down to 9 hours and 47 minutes between sunrise and sunset, which means there’s no longer any point in my rushing home from Boston to get evening chores done in daylight.  Working by headlamp feels oddly claustrophobic to me — the area it illuminates is small and constricted, even in wide open pasture.  The eyeshine from the sheep becomes a comforting reference point, visible from across a field, proving that a world exists beyond the puddle of light I’m casting.