Blown Away

For a while last evening it grew foggy again, but it never became very dense. It didn't even reach the can't-see-across-the-street stage. Then a wind came up, and for the rest of the night it has hummed through the treetops, clearing the fog, though the forest is still roofed with a dark mass of cloud. Mist has been swirling about, though. The stiff breeze sends an occasional drop flying onto my skin, and as quickly evaporates it, so there is only the briefest sensation of no more than a pinprick of icy dampness. I could probably stay outdoors for hours, enjoying the feeling of that mist, and come back in perfectly dry. It is quite splendidly invigorating, and I wish I didn't need to sleep. It would be nice to spend the morning watching the gray light grow to reveal the green winter grass in the fields with their borders of swaying pines. Instead, I must let the morning birds sing me to sleep, so that my schedule will not grow even more catawampus than it has already become.

Today's Rain, Tomorrow's Disaster

There was more rain today, but the afternoon brightened up for a couple of hours, and now there are thin clouds floating under the gibbous moon, and the air is fresh and cool. I'm surprised at how well I have adjusted to the low temperatures this year. It probably results from keeping the heater vents in my room closed for Sluggo's sake. When I go outside, the difference is negligible, and I find that I'm actually enjoying the chilliness, despite the fact that after a few minutes I can't feel my ears. Well, numbness doesn't interfere with their functioning, so I suppose it isn't a problem. It just feels a bit weird when I go into the heated part of the house and they warm back up and get all tingly. If they start to decay and threaten to drop off, I'll worry.

One of the nice things about a very wet winter is that it promises a very lush spring. The disadvantage of a lush spring is that it leaves a lot of brush to dry out in summer's heat, so that autumn can become a dangerous fire season. This coming autumn, the problem will be aggravated by the fact that last autumn, we had no major fires in this area. The rest of the state burned, but somehow we escaped. So, there will be an even bigger accumulation of brush here this year. I'll have to keep close tabs on the cats, in case I have to haul them out at a moments notice. I don't think they'd like being evacuated. They associate car rides with going to the vet, and thus hate them. I'd rather the place didn't burn to the ground, though it probably will, eventually. I only hope that it waits until I have moved to a more reasonable location.

I have e-mail to catch up on. If there is such a thing as virtual dust, my in-box must be covered with it.