Do you take time to delight in the delicate descent of dusk as the day fades and shadows transform the landscape almost imperceptibly into darkness? Dusk is my favorite time of the 24-hour cycle by which we live our lives. I try to experience the rich, but ephemeral sensory offerings of dusk as often as possible, and was recently heartened to learn that the Dutch have a term for such a practice—dusking.

The peaceful ritual of simply observing the transition from day to night is rooted in Dutch tradition, but like dusk itself, had faded from everyday awareness. Writer and night-sky enthusiast Marjolijn van Heemstra is making it her mission to re-awaken the world to the wonders of de schemer (dusk). The night-sky enthusiast has begun hosting dusking events across the Netherlands, driven by her belief that dusking is ideally a shared experience. (See www.bbc.com/travel/article/20260317-dusking-the-dutch-twilight-ritual-helping-people-slow-down). 

The story arrived in my email thanks to Daily Good. For nearly 30 years, the nonprofit has shared “uplifting stories that connect hearts and inspire action.” (If you’re not already subscribed to their free e-newsletter, do yourself a favor by signing up at www.dailygood.org). The story reminded me of a special dusking experience from my past.

In 2015 I had the opportunity to serve as artist in residence at Lemons Brook Farm in Bethel, NY at the invitation of the Delaware Highlands Conservancy, our regional land conservancy. The following reflection was written in response to what I experienced there, and excerpted from “Lens, Pen and Place,” a digital and spoken word event that transpired during the residency:

“We wander out the door at dusk for a final prowl before the light fully fades. I am looking, listening, opening my senses to what this place is saying.”

“Buddhawg settles on a nearby knoll, silhouetted against the darkening sky. At 14, his sense of hearing nearly gone, my canine companion sniffs the air for answers, scenting unseen molecules that offer clues.”

“I aim the camera, probe this portal to deeper awareness of how it goes here.”

“A crescent moon begins conversing with the poet-tree that’s flung its form in a forward flump, drama and torment co-mingled. Each holds the other in its thrall; I crawl on belly to observe what’s being said.” 

“The darkness deepens; tree becomes jagged line; dog is shadowed shape protruding from grass. Moon mounts her stage. We are audience, partners, participants in something happening beyond what we see, when suddenly, the silence is knifed with sound.”

“Rippling cackles of coyote enter the conversation, filtering from the fringe of forest that begins where the clearing concludes. They are on the run, coming closer, clearer, when a pack across the road declares its presence.”

“Yodels and yips ricochet around us as I lie there with lens, gathering in, growing colder, taking up what’s offered, imagining how it will go when they emerge in a rush from the dense inky brush, flow across the open land, past a woman and a dog, entwined with tree and moon in a twilight embrace, engaged in a deepening conversation about place.”