Fog

The weather and my mood have little connection. I have my foggy and my fine days within me; my prosperity or misfortune has little to do with the matter.

-Blaise Pascal

Starting the day feeling a little blurry, with much to do today.

My state of mind is reflected in the view across the valley this morning.

Peg's sunrise as she descended from Harris Hill into Elmira was a lot more inspiring.

Yesterday wasn't great, one of those rare days when for whatever reason I find myself back in the desert. I can smell it, feel the blinding glare off the sand, feel the disorientation and, candidly, fear that comes with finding oneself smack in the middle of a shooting war.

I couldn't say what brings on those moments, but they're definitely unpleasant for me and whoever has the misfortune of being around me. I reckon that would be Peg, with me living as basically a hermit for the last five years. A little more human interaction would go a long way toward forcing a disciplined approach to these spells, rare as they might be. One must keep up appearances, after all. And my war really wasn't much of a war, really. A few weeks and a few instances of experiencing what Churchill called the "exhilaration of being shot at without result." I'm not sure exhilaration is the right word. Anyway, I think of it less every year, which is a good thing.

I only have a little over two hours to tackle half a tax lesson and puke a couple sections of an appellate brief into my dictaphone. Then I'm off to Buffalo to pick up the Columbia and fly it back to KELM, assuming the fog lifts as forecast.

Time to lean into the day.