Breathless

No beastly visitors disturbed the night, but the katydids have only just ceased their noise. The gibbous moon set some hours ago, leaving the empty street darker than the sky. Air barely stirred, the looming forest emits no sound. Though cool, the night feels close, and there is a strange absence of any fragrance other than a slight mustiness, as of a closed room in a deserted house where it is always winter. I have an odd sense of being isolated, despite the presence of the sleeping town. I might have changed into a ghost without knowing it.

None of this pleases me, so I have rooted about in my image files and uploaded another picture taken on that foggy January day last year. I'd rather think about that than the present moment. I like fog more than any other meteorological phenomenon, finding its presence most soothing. This particular picture is of a fog bank making its way up the canyon of the Feather River late in the afternoon. Later that night, it followed me home, up the mountain, and we enjoyed several hours together. I look forward to more such visits this coming winter.

As always, click the picture to see the larger sizes.

Fog in Feather River Canyon

Hot

The risen moon gradually brightens as the pink west fades to mauve. The trees still show some detail, and the katydids are still silent, but that will soon change. For the moment, the world hangs between day and night, vague yet recognizable. This moment never lasts long enough.

Heat has returned, but not enough of it to justify air conditioning. Thus, I face a night of Sluggolessness. A Saturday night, too, and nothing on television. I guess it's reading or ennui. Reading, then.

Jeanne: Stay away from Scotto and Newt!