Monday, August 25, 2008
FROM MORNING DRIVE JOURNAL
AUGUST 26, 2002
Why does the month run away? Where do the years go? On August 31, I will turn 55 years old. I still don't quite understand how that is possible. Criminy.
We had a decent weekend. There is some haze above this morning, the way it looks, but it won't last long. The world keeps turning to loveliness. It is a cool morning, still feeling more like autumn than August. Autumn is a lovely time too, so I shall enjoy this weather we've been having.
Oh, my, I step outside and find the clouds hanging down into the tree tops. It is a thickness of sky pressing upon us. Wisps drop lower, like smoke cooling on a very cold day.
Along the river and in downtown Fairwater the fog is all the way to the ground. There's no wind to blow it away, so in the country visibility is only a quarter of a mile in some places. Sea gulls circle in the fog, turning their brightness on and off as if signalling at sea.
Just south of Five Corners, a red-tail hawk sits atop a power pole, facing west this morning, not east. As I pass, he cocks a wary eye at me. Then a quarter mile north of Five Corners, another power pole, another red-tail hawk, this one facing west too, awaiting breakfast. It's a lovely symmetry of hawks on a misty mystery morning. "Say yes," I say, "say yes again."
AUGUST 26, 2002
Why does the month run away? Where do the years go? On August 31, I will turn 55 years old. I still don't quite understand how that is possible. Criminy.
We had a decent weekend. There is some haze above this morning, the way it looks, but it won't last long. The world keeps turning to loveliness. It is a cool morning, still feeling more like autumn than August. Autumn is a lovely time too, so I shall enjoy this weather we've been having.
Oh, my, I step outside and find the clouds hanging down into the tree tops. It is a thickness of sky pressing upon us. Wisps drop lower, like smoke cooling on a very cold day.
Along the river and in downtown Fairwater the fog is all the way to the ground. There's no wind to blow it away, so in the country visibility is only a quarter of a mile in some places. Sea gulls circle in the fog, turning their brightness on and off as if signalling at sea.
Just south of Five Corners, a red-tail hawk sits atop a power pole, facing west this morning, not east. As I pass, he cocks a wary eye at me. Then a quarter mile north of Five Corners, another power pole, another red-tail hawk, this one facing west too, awaiting breakfast. It's a lovely symmetry of hawks on a misty mystery morning. "Say yes," I say, "say yes again."
