Rain diminished to mist, and the trees dripped more and more slowly, but the most persistent fog continued to hug the ground and shroud the distance, particularly to the south, though only to treetop height. Above, clouds scudded for hours, and a bright spot marked the passing half moon which, now and then, would emerge, fuzzy and wan. Lately, the clouds have thinned and now the moon, surrounded by a rainbow halo, is exposed for a while. The east already brightens, and there may be an actual dawn today. A day or two of sun will be nice, but I don't look forward to the inevitably colder nights clear skies will bring. Stars, though. There will be bright winter stars.
I slept through most of the sunshine today. I'd only been awake for an hour or so before the clouds returned, and a fog bank began creeping up the ridge. The fog had swallowed the line of pines beyond the orchard by dusk. There was no visible sunset. The surprising thing is that, about that time, the cricket across the street began chirping. After weeks of cricketless evenings, I was sure the insect was dead, but the mild day has aroused it from its torpor, and the evening was filled with soft song. Coupled with the gentle air and the flowers which continue to bloom along the fence, it made me feel as though late summer had returned, and I kept taking the hour for later than it was. Now I have a sudden craving for iced tea. Odd, how fragments of summer can show up in winter, but winter never makes an appearance to relieve a hot summer day.
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