Foggy


Through the misting rain, the hills of the Sepulveda pass came and went like passing dreams. On one hilltop stood a house that was rendered visible only by a wedge of warm, glowing lights that traced the shallow peak of the roof. In the vague light it looked like the prow of some kind of ship cresting over a stony wave.

The rains have turned everything soft and green. There is a house on the corner that has a new grass lawn. Every night when I pass it, I want to run my hands through it expecting it to feel like velvet or like a bear skin rug. Mostly it just feels cold. And wet.

The rains have also turned traffic into a snarl, a fact that is slightly mitigated by the fact that it is also Spring Break and a lot of people are traveling. I know I’m certainly in a Spring Break frame of mind. Yesterday, I was pretty sure today was supposed to be Friday. Then I realized I was wrong, made a comment about it to the Curmudgeonly Lion, and laughed at my own inattention. Today, I was also pretty sure it was Friday: so much so that I nearly sent an email to my writer’s group demanding to know why I hadn’t gotten any pages to read. I had the blank draft of the email open and was starting to add email addresses when something in my mind finally woke up and said “hey, wait a minute…” And I remembered it was Thursday.

Tomorrow, luckily, actually IS Friday. Hopefully I’ll be able to remember it.

While I may have trouble remembering the day of the week, I was able to correctly identified a plant growing beside the train tracks as yarrow. Achillea Millefolium. I’d recently seen the same plant as an illustration and, for whatever reason it had stuck in mind long enough for me to find it in the real world. So I can now identify another plant by sight… At least, as long as it’s flowering.

I guess that’s all the news fit to print for tonight. More to come tomorrow.

~ by Gwydhar Gebien on March 22, 2018.

One Response to “Foggy”

  1. Great prose here, fine person.

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