Sometimes a Sunless Day Is Actually Pretty Good When It Begins Like This

Sewanee winter: fog, mist, drizzle, rain, drizzle, mist, fog.

Caution on the wet stones down into Abbo's Alley, where the snowdrops blossom, followed by one slip on the first wood bridge (good Gracie turned towards me, ran back, licked my face, waited while I stood), rain at the fish pond, a sit on the porch of the gardeners' shed, a tramp across South Carolina, mist again, slow trek up the hill past the theater, dorm, and archaeological dig where Rebel's Rest used to be, down University and across to the cornerstone walk-through, where Gracie was singularly unimpressed, and finally back home.

One hour in dampness, with good company, gladly dry inside my frayed Camden Town flea find (a 12-pound wool coat).

Life is good.