The Weather
For the last two weeks, the fog has descended on and off, seemingly unexpectedly, lying down near the ground, thick as snow. Stepping out into it, I always half believe the snow is deeper than it actually is--as it should be this time of year--almost expect to hear a crunch when stepping even into well-worn paths. After awhile it will begin to rise like a veil between things, as if it were trying to remind us of how little we pay attention to our own neighborhoods, how easily we would walk into a tree or a hole in the ground if we didn't have our sight. I'm looking out the window, watching it rise slowly from thick blanket to veil right now, as I type. T sends me regular texts about the weather; maybe because she lives in a place where people aren't nearly as obsessed with it as they are here, and, being a Minnesotan at heart, she needs to have this conversation, even with someone who isn't just a gas station attendant or server at a restaurant. And it has been unseason...