white
You know (I don't know why I started that way, the blog is for me not you, whoever you might be, to help me cling to the sanity of mental health and reality), it isn't that i mean to obess about and take the gloomy weather personally with pictures of foggy mornings, it's just that foggy morning is the way it is this time of year.
Honestly, I don't remember it, fog season, so much those years at The Old Place. There behind the dense thick trees, especially from my upstairs window and from my upstairs front porch, I saw green instead of white. No longer mine anyway except in the same way that it also and always belongs to Mike, it doesn't matter now, all the trees are gone. I mean all of them, the oaks, the cedars. No, there is one relatively young cedar by the porch at the back entry, mama once told me that my father and John Carroll planted it when he was very small, I think that's the tree, but I'm thinking of looking out front, from the house, toward the Bay, StAndrewsBay, and Davis Point always across there.
Why am I doing this - -
So anyway, fog season. I loved it from my Bay window at 7H my nearly four years, late December 2014 to early October 2018, living there. Looking out from way up high, it was almost as if the fog's whiteness was scratching at my window to get inside and cover me, good seasons annually; and I could go outside on 7H porch and not only see but feel and breathe it. And sometimes in and behind the total silence, one can hear fog, maybe it's the sound of Sandburg's little cat feet, or the imperceptible, as my PSA has it although there's still a number there, fog may have an almost imperceptible sound of dripping.
There was fog at sea my Navy years. My introduction to loving fog was my years working with Mary Virginia at Trinity Church in Apalachicola, why is Apalachicola so much in my mind lately, MVR loved our weather around ChristmasTime, evenings when the fog would settle in with the chill. And I recall that she especially loved Christmas Eve when she came out of church into a foggy night. With Mary Virginia, it was easy to begin noticing things about nature that I'd not especially noticed before. Fog, and the white flowering wild roadside bushes along the highway between Apalachicola and PSJ that she called tai-tai.
Fog brings the Apalachicola years to mind.
T
Honestly, I don't remember it, fog season, so much those years at The Old Place. There behind the dense thick trees, especially from my upstairs window and from my upstairs front porch, I saw green instead of white. No longer mine anyway except in the same way that it also and always belongs to Mike, it doesn't matter now, all the trees are gone. I mean all of them, the oaks, the cedars. No, there is one relatively young cedar by the porch at the back entry, mama once told me that my father and John Carroll planted it when he was very small, I think that's the tree, but I'm thinking of looking out front, from the house, toward the Bay, StAndrewsBay, and Davis Point always across there.
Why am I doing this - -
So anyway, fog season. I loved it from my Bay window at 7H my nearly four years, late December 2014 to early October 2018, living there. Looking out from way up high, it was almost as if the fog's whiteness was scratching at my window to get inside and cover me, good seasons annually; and I could go outside on 7H porch and not only see but feel and breathe it. And sometimes in and behind the total silence, one can hear fog, maybe it's the sound of Sandburg's little cat feet, or the imperceptible, as my PSA has it although there's still a number there, fog may have an almost imperceptible sound of dripping.
There was fog at sea my Navy years. My introduction to loving fog was my years working with Mary Virginia at Trinity Church in Apalachicola, why is Apalachicola so much in my mind lately, MVR loved our weather around ChristmasTime, evenings when the fog would settle in with the chill. And I recall that she especially loved Christmas Eve when she came out of church into a foggy night. With Mary Virginia, it was easy to begin noticing things about nature that I'd not especially noticed before. Fog, and the white flowering wild roadside bushes along the highway between Apalachicola and PSJ that she called tai-tai.
Fog brings the Apalachicola years to mind.
T