Maybe I’m young and crazy, but walking back one mile to Foster Pond with my flashlight off, no moonlight or stars, just by the ambient light of nautical twilight and light pollution is a spiritual journey, listening to the muskrat dive into the pond, the bull frogs and peepers sing their songs, the wind, the occasional splash of the lake. Even on the darkest of nights the woods is never truly completely dark, and it’s certainly not devoid of life, even if I’m the only person for miles around.