A friend described our weather in this notwinter/notspring time as "fickle."
A beautiful, clear, sunny morning I spent at my desk on the computer turned into disappointment: a canceled Shakerag walk and a dip in temperature and graying of sky.
Another friend tells me that I suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder because I pine and whine when a day (or a week or a month) passes without bright sun. Of the symptoms listed by the NIH, I admit to these: "increased appetite with weight gain" (like a bear before hibernation, I eat) and "unhappiness."
A better term for the disorder I suffer is Seasonal Photography Disorder: the bugs are hard to find and without sun I cannot lose myself in the sensory pleasures of color and form.
So today, lost to the only direct sun some in Sewanee enjoyed, I tinkered with an afternoon snapshot of the campus, silvery light slipping between horizontal clouds. I couldn't just live with the Gorey-esque tableau, though.
I sweetend it with the amber light I so miss.
Soon, I say to myself, soon, and then spoon another healthy heap of carb-drenched food on my plate.