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.

On a day like this

I'll take color wherever I find it,

whether at the dump

or Green's View.

Me-too Weather Report

The Trees Delete Themselves Inside a Fog-Sphere
by Francis PongeTranslated by Karen Volkman

In the fog which surrounds the trees, the leaves are stripped—leaves defaced already by slow oxidation, deadened by the sap's out-seeping for flowers' and fruits' gain, since the harsh heats of August made of them a less.

In the bark, vertical furrows crease and slit where dampness drains to the earth's base, indifferent to the living citizens of the trunk.

Flowers scattered, fruit conferred. Since youth, this relinquishing of breathing attributes and body parts has become for the trees a standard practice.

I will not write "after drought"

"rain has come" because, although some rain has fallen (for two nights and two days, off and then on), it has not been anywhere enough to make a dent in ending the drought which doubtless has resulted in the demise of plant and animal, some inconvenience for humans in water and fire limits, even, perhaps, the signal of something larger than any of us or even of this place, but I will celebrate the rain, however intermittent, and the fog, the humidity lingering in the air, reminding me of fecundity even in its absence.

Welcome, stranger, may you make a home here again.

According to the United States Drought Monitor, my community is categorized as D4 (Exceptional Drought), the most severe rating.

Where Shadows Rest

Naomi Shihab Nye encourages Ernest Mann to see poems in "shadows / drifting across our ceilings the moment / before we wake up."

Today, poems rest in shadows just beyond computer glare.

But oh how I long to wake from winter fog into light more brilliant out than in.

Another Fog, Another Celebration!

Outside, fog.



 






 



 
Inside, lamp. 


 





Nothing new to see. 





But a day of celebration, nevertheless.





A day of arrival, for eleven years ago, a boy arrived and made the family a bit less foggy and dark.

Happy birthday, C, and welcome again to the world!

Winter Longing

Even an indoor cat misses the sun.

It could be worse, I try to tell her.

We could be living in Ittoqqortmoormiit, Greenland,
where the sun does not rise for 58 days.

A Lesson in Grammar in a Few Short Hours (Sewanee Style)

COORDINATING
the day was beautiful, for the weather was weird
snow and fog
or fog and sun
but not fog and sun
snow yet fog
fog yet sunsun so no fog

CORRELATIVE

either blue sky or gray sky
neither day nor night

not only fog, but also sun

not only gray sky, but also blue sky
both fog and sun
not frigid but cold
whether sunny or foggy or snowy, today was beautiful

In with a Whimper, Out with a Bang

Always there, even when I can't see it, the sun is dependable. Today, it sneaked up, hidden behind a thick wet scrim and stayed hidden, till afternoon when it burst forth, burnished and burnishing winter grasses, setting the mountain ablaze.

Quintessential Sewanee

Fog

Green's View

Selfies at the View

Groomsmen

The Forecast Gets It Wrong

No rain, it said.

No rain today, it says now.

Tell that to the people who ran errands in it, like me.

Tell that to people who bought air return filters and left them in the car so they wouldn't get wet, like me.

Tell that to the woman whose pricey camera, rented for a week, lies ignored on the dining room table.

At least I can look back at One-a-Day Photos of 2015 to find color.

Nine months in, three to go.

Surely, the rain will break before the year is up.

Right?

Feeling Prickly

Sprained ankle.

Fog.

Rain.

Gray skies.

What Rite of Spring?

Fog again?

I feel exactly the same way that Parisian audience did when

Diaghilev's Ballets Russes premiered Stravinsky's

Le Sacre du Printemps (The Rite of Spring)

at the Theatre des Champs Elysees in 1913, 

but against exactly what can I riot?

And where can I stomp to be heard?

Hope

Emily Dickinson wrote that "Hope is the thing with feathers," and yes, I think, it is. 

But today, a day after woolen-socks-fog yesterday, hope arrived on sunshine bursting between bedroom curtains, and blue sky, so blue only a few light clouds appeared, and 67 degrees by early afternoon, and green moss and briars, and rusty fencing joining blue sky, yellow winter grass, and green stickery vine, and hope became the things that promise spring!

March 14

March 15

They Came and Surely They Saw

Each year, the Seminary welcomes visitors in February for a special program, described this way on the website:

If you're in the discernment process as a postulant or exploring your faith and ministry as a lay leader, a visit to The School of Theology at the University of the South is your best way to experience Episcopal seminary education in Sewanee, Tenn. Student-organized and student-led, Come & See 2015 will introduce you to community life and theological formation in one of the most beautiful settings in the nation. Once on the Mountain for Come & See, your expenses -- food and campus lodging -- are covered by The School of Theology.

The signs went up and the weather began an exciting performance of its own: road-closing snow and ice with extreme low temperatures, followed by rain and fog so dense a mystery novel fan would feel she had walked into a scene with Sherlock Holmes himself. 

If any of the visitors decide to matriculate here, they will already have met the other great experience of Sewanee's community life: winter's capriciousness.

Lake Cheston ABCedarian: V

V is for VIBRANT

sun broke four days of fog and sleet and freezing fog

and blue water met wet sand and stone

and where ice still coated the lake's surface

stars burst on bluebird song

Relief in the Work of Others

Here's why I went outside only once today -- to check my mail:

posted by the College on Sewanee's Facebook page

So I watched this instead of walking in wet fog with my camera:

And then this:

Birds on the Wires from Jarbas Agnelli on Vimeo.

Surely no one can blame me.

Lake Cheston ABCedarian: U Is for Under

        un
        der   fog
        's
        touch

slo

        ings
        fin
        gering
        s

wli

        whichs
        turn
        in
        to   whos

est

        people
        be
        come
        un

                        e. e. cummings

And Then Reality Hit

Return journey, heavy traffic, rain, fog, work and more work, errands, veterinary clinic, sinus blockage and laryngitis, doctor's appointment, pharmacy, groceries, and more rain and fog and misery of coughing followed.

Thus I posted nothing on November 30, December 1, and December 2.

I couldn't.

So I hunkered and waited.

Day 34: Another Day That Changed My Life

Fog opens and closes like a muslin curtain, revealing barn or child or field, but without a follow spot. Even a lone bird perched on a seesaw of wire tethered to the tower waits for the show to begin.

Now!