Descent of Heaven

Fog appears, and the light of the unseen moon drifts down to glow from every hovering drop. The breadth of the world is reduced to a few hundred feet, and at its borders vanishes into gray mystery. All I perceive is contained within this quiet, luminous space. A few spots of brighter glow indicate a porch light here and there, and an occasional passing car, its sound muffled, sends a bowl of pale light before it and drags a faint red glow behind, then disappears. The frogs have ceased to chorus, the night does not resound with the calls of passing birds, and no beast's footfalls disturb the serenity. When the cars have gone, the only sound is the occasional drip of gathered moisture dropping from the looming trees. The pervasive smell of dampness is better than flowers.

Mildness Again

Low overcast is nice. Late in the afternoon, the gray air begins to glow, taking on a faint red-gold hue. In lieu of a sunset, there is this blushing hour which slowly fades to night. Tonight, the overcast remains in the valley, but the mountain skies have cleared. It will cool off here in a while, but the valley will remain almost balmy all night long. I'm pleased not to be down there tonight.

Sluggo, of course, was not happy with the mildness. The days he can endure are rapidly coming to an end, and I have not yet replaced him. I'm wondering if I can squeeze a bit more time from him if I have his CPU remounted to its heat sink with that thermally efficient glue they now make. I'm sure it wasn't to begin with. Poor, ill-made Sluggo.

I'm off to lurk about the computer bargain web sites for a few minutes now.