Everyone in my family, and those who've known me long enough, has a "Joe has no night vision" story to tell - often involving a near "collision" while walking in poor lighting; avoided only by a warning from someone waiting for me to notice, and eventually intervening. Ironic(al) that my profession requires so much late night driving (we'll discuss the sleepiness some other time). I (and my guardian angels) make it work, in part by driving slower at night (also motivated by the increased deer activity). While outside this evening, standing alongside my car in the driveway, it seemed sensible to go and retrieve the trash can. I proceed cautiously, avoiding the small trees in the front yard (which I sometimes don't notice prior to impact) as I make my way to the street. Perhaps I've not attempted to retrieve the trash can at night before, as it was weird to walk toward the object that I couldn't see, though I knew where it was (having put it there last night). Kind of like faith, perhaps; where "knowing" and not (necessarily) "seeing" provide one's compass. Eventually the blue can came into faint view as I came up upon it, providing what was necessary to pick it up (the trash guys have a thing for leaving the can on it's side) and wheel it back to the house. For whatever reason, this routine task made an impression on me tonite. Faith and sight. I'm sure I'll be thinking some more about that (yes, that's a picture of our trash can in the dark - from my perspective).